Abyss Of Stars

"L-Lunar?" I stammered, though the word barely formed in my mouth. Seeing her standing there, it felt like reality had splintered. She looked different, like a distorted reflection in the twilight—familiar, but somehow off. My chest tightened with a confusion I couldn't shake. Orion had scouted her. She was supposed to be… what? Safe? Gone? Forgotten in the chaos?

Her eyes met mine, and for a brief moment, the sarcasm, the biting sharpness I knew her for, seemed absent. But it was only a flicker, quickly replaced by her signature smirk. That mask of cold indifference, hiding whatever it was she didn't want anyone else to see.

"You look like you've seen a ghost, Akame," she said, voice dripping with her usual condescension. "What? Thought I was dead or something?" The words hit like a dull thud, not quite landing where they used to.

I swallowed, not sure whether to feel relieved or unnerved. It was Lunar—there was no doubt—but something in the air between us had changed. I couldn't place it, but there was a heaviness to her presence now. A weight behind her words.

"Orion didn't…" I trailed off, the thought hanging in the air, unfinished. My mind ran wild, trying to piece together what this meant. What did Orion do? Did he forget about her? Or had he sent her here on purpose, part of some plan I couldn't see yet? My gut twisted with unease.

Lunar's eyes flicked toward the others, who had gathered silently, as if sensing the gravity of her arrival. For the first time in a while, I couldn't read her. She was always an enigma, sure, but now… now it felt like she had crossed into a different kind of unknowable.

"Don't get too excited. I'm not here for a reunion," she said, crossing her arms. The usual sharpness returned, but it lacked the bite. "But, you know… nice to see you didn't get yourself killed yet."

I felt the knot in my chest tighten. Her words should've stung, like they always did, but now they just felt hollow. Something was wrong, and I couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of a much darker thread unraveling around us.

"Lunar…" I tried again, but the words died in my throat.

She looked at me, really looked, and for the first time, I wondered what she saw. The silence between us stretched thin, a thread of tension waiting to snap.

"Don't overthink it, Akame," she finally said, her voice softer, almost… sad? "Just be glad I'm here. For now."

She turned, walking away before I could say anything more. The others exchanged uneasy glances, but no one spoke. I watched she went into the facility, my thoughts spiraling with questions I didn't know how to answer.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, as Lunar vanished into the facility. The silence that followed felt oppressive, thick with unspoken questions.

"Is she okay?" Somuchi finally broke the silence, her voice a quiet murmur, betraying a hint of concern.

"I think so," Raven replied, running a hand through his hair. "She looked… different. Like she's been through something."

"Orion must've let her go," I said, forcing the words out, even though a knot tightened in my stomach. I wanted to believe that, but something about the way she'd held herself felt off.

Luma stepped forward, her brow furrowed. "You think she escaped? That's a good sign, right?"

"Sure, if you ignore the fact that we have no idea what's been happening with her," I countered, my heart racing. "She could've been hiding, waiting for the right moment to run. Or maybe she—" I cut myself off, unable to voice the darker possibilities swirling in my mind.

Somuchi shifted uncomfortably. "She's still a Guardian. If anyone can handle themselves, it's her."

The others nodded, but I couldn't shake the unease gnawing at me. My gaze drifted back toward the entrance where she'd disappeared.

"Lunar's smart," Raven added, crossing his arms. "She'll find her way. But… she's also unpredictable."

"That's exactly it," I said, frustration bubbling up. "What if she's not as alone as we think? What if she's got other motives?"

"Come on, Akame," Luma said, concern etched on her face. "She's our ally. We need to trust her."

"I want to," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper. "But something doesn't sit right. It's like she's playing a game we don't understand."

The others exchanged glances, uncertain. I knew they didn't see the warning signs I did.

"We should keep an eye on her," I said, my heart heavy. "Just in case."

I stepped into the facility, eyes scanning the room for any sign of Lunar. My mind was racing, trying to piece together how she escaped. Was she working for Orion? Spying on us? It didn't make sense. She had no reason to, at least none that I knew of. We'd only become Guardians, what… a day ago? Yeah, just a day, and somehow it felt like a lifetime.

So much had happened in such a short span. My thoughts spiraled, grasping at answers that weren't there. Then, an image of my mom flashed through my mind, unexpected and sharp. A knot of guilt twisted in my chest. Everything was spinning out of control—Lunar, Orion, the mission… And I couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping away from me.

The air in the room felt thick, like the tension itself had become tangible. I caught sight of Lunar, leaning against the far wall, arms crossed. She looked calm—too calm—like she didn't feel the weight of everything we'd been through. But I couldn't ignore the nagging sense that something was wrong, that there was more to her return than what she was letting on.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way over to her, my steps slower than usual. My heart pounded, a mixture of frustration and hesitation building in my chest. She noticed me approaching and raised an eyebrow, that familiar smirk pulling at her lips.

"Akame," she said, her voice cool and composed, like nothing had changed. Like she hadn't just reappeared out of nowhere after being with Orion.

I stopped a few feet away, my mind still reeling. "Where did you go, Lunar? How did you escape Orion?"

She held my gaze, her smirk never faltering. "You sound worried," she teased, her tone light, but there was something darker lurking underneath it. "Didn't think I'd make it back?"

"I don't know what to think," I admitted, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "None of this makes sense. You were with him… and now you're here. How?"

Her smile faded, just for a moment, and her eyes flickered with something I couldn't quite place. "I got out," she said, her voice flat. "That's all you need to know."

"Is it, though?" I pressed, my frustration boiling over. "Lunar, we've been Guardians for a day. A day. And you expect me to believe you just got out without a scratch?"

She pushed off the wall and stepped toward me, her expression hardening. "You think I'm lying?"

"No, I just…" I trailed off, unsure of what I was even accusing her of. "I don't know what to think. It feels off."

Lunar's gaze softened for a brief moment, her usual sharpness dulled. "You're always so paranoid, Akame," she said, her voice quieter, almost teasing, but without the usual bite. "Not everything has to make sense right away. Sometimes you just survive."

She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "You'll get used to it."

I wanted to believe her, wanted to trust that she was on our side. But the unease gnawed at me, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she wasn't telling me. Something I didn't want to face.

She turned, walking away without another word, leaving me standing there, questions swirling in my head. It wasn't just about her escape. It was about everything. Something was wrong—deeply wrong—and I was the only one who seemed to feel it.

The others hadn't seen her like I had. They didn't notice the subtle change in her demeanor, the slight hesitation in her voice. But I did. And no matter how much I tried to push it down, that nagging voice in the back of my mind kept whispering the same thing.

Lunar wasn't the same.

I walked off heading towards my room but then, a familiar chill crept into the room, the kind that made the air feel too thick, like something heavy was pressing down on my chest. The prickling sensation I had felt earlier came back, but this time it was stronger—more insistent, like claws scratching at the edges of my mind. My eyes flicked toward the door. Someone, or something, was there. I couldn't see it, but I could feel it—a presence lurking just beyond the shadows, lingering like a whisper I couldn't quite hear.

My pulse quickened as I stood, muscles tightening as if bracing for something I couldn't name. Instinct took over before reason could catch up, my feet moving into the dim corridor. The silence stretched unnaturally, the air hanging heavy, and I felt like I was walking deeper into something I wasn't supposed to find.

Ahead, barely visible in the faint light, stood a figure. They didn't speak, didn't move—just watched. I couldn't make out any features, but their presence was undeniable, wrapping around me like an invisible tether. I wanted to stop, to turn around, but instead, I followed.

Each step felt wrong, like I was walking away from the world I knew, slipping into something twisted. The building around me seemed to warp, the walls narrowing and stretching like a labyrinth, pulling me deeper into its grip. The air grew colder, and my breath felt heavier with each step, the hallways twisting into unfamiliar paths that didn't belong here.

The figure led me, gliding soundlessly ahead, through a door that wasn't supposed to exist. On the other side, a massive, ancient stone altar loomed—its surface etched with symbols that pulsed faintly, writhing with energy. I froze. The altar seemed to breathe, a living thing in the center of the darkness, its energy crawling over my skin like a thousand tiny fingers.

Suddenly, a voice echoed in my mind, soft at first but growing louder, overlapping with itself—a chorus of tones that twisted between calm and frantic, anger and sorrow. My pulse spiked.

"Akame…"

The voice wasn't one—it was many. A cacophony of emotions crashing together, wild and untamed. My star—Chaos Core—was speaking to me, but it felt wrong. The words didn't come in any one tone, instead shifting between softness and fury, confusion and clarity. The star's presence was overwhelming, like I was drowning in a storm of its unstable energy, each emotion pressing in from all sides, closing in on me.

"Why did you come here?" the voice asked, and then it shifted, becoming darker, more menacing. "What do you want?"

The atmosphere around the altar warped, the air vibrating with tension. I hesitated, my chest tightening as fear clawed at the edges of my mind. The energy from the star was wild, unpredictable—just like me. Its presence was suffocating, erratic, flickering between warmth and icy coldness, rage and despair. I could barely think, every word from the star twisting deeper into my thoughts like a vice.

"I don't know," I muttered, my voice sounding distant, like it didn't belong to me. "I just… I need answers. Everything's wrong. Out of control."

The star's chaotic emotions surged again, a violent storm that whipped through my mind, pulling me deeper into its madness. The voice became a low hum, dripping with malice and amusement.

"Control?" it mocked, laughter rippling through the shadows. "You think there's control for you, Akame? You're like me. There's no order for us. Only chaos. Only the storm. But maybe…"

The voice dropped into a soft, almost loving tone, though the edge of instability remained, curling like a snake around my thoughts. "…Maybe that's the key. Stop fighting it. Embrace the chaos. Let it consume you. What's the point of control when you're destined to break it?"

I could feel the weight of its words pressing down on me, pulling me toward something darker, something twisted. The storm of its energy was intoxicating, pulling me deeper into its fold. I clenched my fists, struggling to resist, but its presence was everywhere, its voice wrapping around my mind, soothing and sinister at the same time.

It laughed again, the sound soft but unsettling, like a knife scraping against bone. "Stop pretending, Akame. You and I are the same. You can't outrun the storm. You can only let it tear everything apart."

My heart raced as I stood there, staring at the altar. The dread was suffocating now, pressing in from every angle. The air itself seemed to pulse, thick with tension, as if the very room was alive, breathing around me. The symbols on the altar twisted and shifted, warping in and out of focus, and I felt myself being pulled toward it, drawn in by some invisible force. My mind screamed at me to stop, to turn away, but my body wouldn't listen.

The voice—the storm inside my head—was relentless, whispering promises of power and control, twisting my thoughts like a knife. It was intoxicating and terrifying all at once, an overwhelming force that I couldn't fight. My legs buckled, my vision blurring as the energy surged around me, choking me with its presence. The world spun, the edges of my consciousness slipping away.

Then, everything went black.

I didn't feel myself fall. I didn't feel anything at all.

When I woke, my head was pounding, and the air was suddenly… still. My eyes fluttered open, and I was no longer in that warped hallway or standing before that cursed altar. I was in my room, lying on my bed. The familiar surroundings jarred me—how did I get here?

My breath hitched as I sat up, glancing around. No one was here. No one had brought me back. The door was closed, and everything was exactly as I'd left it before.

It didn't make sense.

I swallowed hard, my heart still racing, the remnants of that creeping dread clinging to my skin. Whatever had happened… I didn't escape. I was pulled out—yanked from the abyss and thrown back here, like it was all part of some twisted game.