Nevermore/Enygma Files

Mai

The following days after arriving Lizbeth walked through the streets of a brightly lit city, where the lights flickered like fallen stars.

A new place she didn't know—the city on Siren Island.

The cool afternoon air made her skin tingle, and though the war was over, she still felt that weight on her shoulders—that inherent unease that comes with victory.

Celebrations had continued in every corner of the world for months, all seemingly shouting the same message: everything was over, but the cost of peace was far greater than anyone could imagine.

In the faces of the crowd were smiles, yes, but also traces of uncertainty, as if everyone silently asked the same question: what would they do now?

The future, though promising, was still a vast enigma.

The war against the fractus had given way to something greater, a new era—a renewed cycle starting from scratch, as if the war's end was the call to a new age.

Lizbeth had heard of the "singularity," that historic moment when time itself would change, as if humanity could erase everything that had happened and begin again.

The Age of Singularity.

No one had lived through such a transition before, and though the most optimistic applauded the idea, Lizbeth couldn't shake the feeling that people didn't truly grasp the magnitude of what it meant.

It wasn't just the end of a global conflict, but the start of something far vaster and more terrifying:
the adjustment to a new way of life, a life not yet ready to accept the scars of the past.

In one of the city's central squares on the island, the bustle grew louder.

Children ran, families began new chapters, and the air was filled with a nearly tangible joy.

Lizbeth couldn't help but smile as she observed the organized chaos of celebration. Everything had changed so quickly, so unexpectedly.

But, in the end, humanity always found ways to move forward.

And now the feys were part of that world too.

Feys, humans, aeons. All sharing the same planet. Could it be possible now that the threat disapeared?

In a corner of the square, a small group of wandering fey musicians played lively melodies, and she joined the chorus of laughter rising from the crowd, though somehow her heart remained trapped in the past. Though the war was over, she knew some wounds were too deep to heal with mere words of comfort.

Despite the joy around her, Lizbeth felt a breeze of nostalgia, as if the very air whispered memories of times gone by.

The war had left many questions unanswered, and while the civilization prepared for a new era, she couldn't stop thinking about all they had lost in the process.

But now wasn't the time to be consumed by sadness.

Today was just another day to celebrate life—uncertain as it might be.

She paused for a moment, looking up at the sky, feeling the weight of her years on her shoulders, but also a flicker of hope.

Something had changed—something inside her too, maybe.

The war was over, but Lizbeth knew a new struggle was just beginning.

That battle boiled down to what she had told Gehirn long ago: now that everything seemed finished, on what terms would humanity and the feys coexist?

***

In March, Lizbeth found herself in the southern part of Siren Island, enjoying a few months of peace after the long, arduous conflict that had defined the last years of her life.

The landscape around her seemed to echo the tranquility she longed for, with the waves gently caressing the shore and the clear sky—as if the world had finally exhaled a deep sigh.
Yet even amid this respite, the island didn't remain still for long.

She had tried to occupy her mind by helping the girls, trying to contact old friends. Distracting herself a little with mechanics. Even though Leon was trying to convince her to become an agent for the organization. Investigating Dark Events. Apparently, the Nevermore Initiative would now be called the Nevermore Institute.

Even Nevermore had to change.

As the days passed, the sea began to fill with ships and planes—a parade of new arrivals.
Feys and humans from all corners of the planet, who had fought on the most distant fronts, were returning.

Not all were welcomed, many carried invisible scars, untold stories—but all bore the mark of having survived the war.

Lizbeth didn't know how long the north city had been inhabited over the decades.

Practically months after that invitation from Gehirn decades ago, the island had begun a transformation that took a long time.

But now it was a sanctuary for the feys, aeons, and humans who wished to live there.

And it was where the base of what was now called the Nevermore Institute would be established.

Lizbeth wandered for days through the new facilities being built on the southern side.
For now, the base was a collection of residential modules scattered across that part, awaiting completion.

That's when Lizbeth saw her.

Mimi.

So changed, now presenting herself with a distant calm that was almost palpable.

The shift in Mimi was immediate, and Lizbeth couldn't help but feel a wave of discomfort wash over her.

Mimi—the same woman with whom she had shared nights of laughter and love, with whom she had been so close—was now there before her, but something in her gaze was different.

More reserved. More distant.

Lizbeth realized, with a pang of bitterness, that something had broken irreparably between them.
The reunion was not what she had expected, nor what she had dreamed of during those wartime memories.

It was dry.

Almost routine.

"How have you been?" Lizbeth asked, her words colliding in the air between them like something cold and distant.

Mimi only nodded slightly, her eyes avoiding Lizbeth's gaze, as if the words were a burden she preferred not to carry. "I'm fine. How about you?"

The greeting was brief, almost a formality. Both knew that any attempt to rekindle what they once shared would be a wasted effort, at least for now. The war had marked them too deeply, and that conversation in the Aegean seemed like the final nail in the coffin.

Mimi, in her new role within Nevermore, seemed to have lost the need to connect, to seek comfort in others. She was no longer the woman Lizbeth had known, now she was wrapped in the shadows of intelligence and espionage, working on clandestine missions far from everything that had once been such a cheerful and carefree girl.

They were no longer lovers—not even friends, it seemed—they were now colleagues.

Mimi was someone who had fully immersed herself in her role as a spy, lost in the secrets of a new silent war.

Lizbeth tried, perhaps out of habit, to find some trace of what they once were. But there were no jokes, no shared smiles—only tense words. For a moment, Lizbeth wished things were different, that they could be the same again, but she knew it couldn't be. Time had done its work, and sometimes relationships don't survive what life demands of them.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The affection they once shared had dissolved in the ocean of war, swept away by the current of events one after another.

There was something heartbreaking in the way the words stalled in the air between them, as if an invisible barrier had risen, preventing any closeness.

Neither mentioned Shin.

The silence was enough for both.

Rein and Noki tried to coax them into talking, but a steel curtain had fallen over anything beyond work. At least she was still treating the girls as usual, and in that at least Lizbeth saw some hope. She would have been really angry if she had started treating Rein and Noki with the same coldness.

In the end, Lizbeth realized it was time to say goodbye to everything that had once been her love life before the war.

Mimi was no longer the same—and probably neither was she.

Though the scars of war bound them, both knew they couldn't move forward with the same ties that had once connected them in a distant past.

Considering the life of the feys, there was a hope that maybe someday something could change—but she didn't see it happening anytime soon.

Lizbeth walked away slowly, without looking back.

A lump formed in her throat as she moved on, but she could no longer return to what was.
The relationship that had started over a century ago with those playful kisses between them had come to an end.

Lizbeth understood it, even if she didn't like it.

Mimi was too far away, too wrapped up in her own demons for them to find common ground.

Yet something inside Lizbeth hoped—perhaps deep in her heart—that one day, when time passed, they might find a way to rebuild what once was.

But for now, all they could do was move forward.

The new world now demanded responsibility, and Lizbeth was ready to become a permanent part of Nevermore.

***

In the days that followed, Siren Island became a hive of activity once again. Despite the apparent peace spreading worldwide, the work didn't stop.

Nitocris, Leon, and Rein were in charge of most of the coordination. Rein, in particular, had grown into a role no one expected.

With her organizational skills and sharp mind, she had become a key figure—a global operations chief, an authority in the chaos that seemed to follow the war's end. The feys and aeons were at her disposal, working tirelessly to maintain order and lead ongoing operations in various parts of the world.

Lizbeth, though no longer at the center of it all, couldn't help but be drawn to the intensity of this new order that had taken hold—how the gears of a new era began turning with unstoppable speed.

Amid that whirlwind of work and reunions with old friends, Lizbeth sometimes felt slightly displaced.

There was something in the air—a sense that the world she once knew was no longer the same.

Sometimes, when she walked the island or watched feys and humans interact, she felt like an observer in her own life. Little by little, now that the world was rebuilding itself and the celebrations were winding down, many looked back without believing that it was all over.

The war had left deep scars—not just on her but on all who survived.

Interactions were colder, more formal now that the revelry was over.

People seemed to have lost something important: that spark that had united them, that warmth Lizbeth had once enjoyed.

Still, the need to connect persisted deep within her being, like an invisible force pushing her to seek something more—something to restore her sense of belonging.

It was during those relentless days, amid new challenges and endless meetings, that she finally spotted her in the dinner hall. That day, she was having lunch with her daughters, and Mimi had been invited, but she was in another section dealing with other matters. The dining room was full, and there were more than a hundred people at lunchtime in that section of the main base. Agents, workers, technicians.

It wasn't a dramatic moment or a shocking revelation, but somehow Lizbeth knew fate had led her there.

She was a small figure with long silver hairwho kept to the shadows, someone working quietly, slipping through the walls of the new organization without drawing much attention.

Lizbeth had seen her from afar, discussing strategies with other Nevermore members, and a wave of recognition washed over her.

Surprised, she asked the others who she was. And it was Rein who answered her, who after eating her burger was looking at Nokis with suspicious eyes. "That's Mai, mom. She just arrived a couple days ago."

"The secret heroine," Noki added, changing the burger to her left hand, away from her hungry dragon sister. "She is a bit quiet these days."

Rein gave up and sigh. "Give her a break. She's trying to be as inconspicuous as possible."

"I don't blame her. They must have done horrible things to her in those tests."

"What tests?" Lizbeth asked.

Rein was about to say something but held back. "Better after lunch, it's not something you want to talk while we eat."

Noki nodded. "Thank goodness the research center released her. We'd been trying to do that for weeks, but I think those bastards wanted to treat her like a guinea pig."

"What happened? Now you've got me curious."

"Later, Mom. Let's finish these burgers, and I'll tell you more later." Rein unwrapped a new burger.

"Did you just stole my second burger?" Noki asked, pouting.

The secret heroine.

The one who had closed the anomaly in Russia. The one who had ended the war. In the public eye, there were no heroes. None of those who had carried out the mission to close the main anomaly had survived. But that wasn't the case. Lizbeth had heard about the secret heroine. But she had no idea she was on the island.

She seemed like a very sad girl.

Their eyes met, and the girl stared at her in surprise. Almost... as if she too had seen something in Lizbeth.

Lizbeth's lemon-colored eyes sank into those crystal-clear green ones.

"Thus, I surrender myself to you; all that I am is yours, just as all that is yours shall be ours."

That phrase she hadn't remembered in so long hit her mind like a hammer.

Who was she?

Mai noticed that they were staring at each other like fools from afar, and she bowed her head in greeting and looked away to talk to another of the girls in the dining room. Lizbeth perceived that behind those sad eyes there was a certain blush in Mai cheeks.

There was something in her posture, in the way she moved, that felt like Lizbeth had seen before.

Lizbeth knew there was something familiar—something she couldn't ignore.

The war, despite its cruelty, had brought together so many people, some of whom she no longer recognized, but that presence, that enigmatic figure, had been watching her in secret.

And then, when she least expected it, they crossed paths in one of the corridors of the base. The midday light filtered through the plants in the section and illuminated her silver hair.

Lizbeth couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a rush of emotion upon seeing the woman before her.

It wasn't a coincidence—she didn't believe that.

The connection was palpable, like a bond that had been asleep, like something hidden beneath layers of time and suffering.

Why? Where? How?

The fey woman, who seemed on her own mission, approached with a solitary face and eyes Lizbeth had never seen before, yet somehow felt she knew.

She had never seen such beautiful green eyes, but at the same time, never one so empty—
as if she had seen too much during the war and her eyes had lost something.

Lizbeth said nothing at first, she didn't know how to begin. She couldn't tell if she felt attraction or distrust of her own feelings. Who was she? The only thing she knew for sure was that, after all this time, something had resurfaced—something that had remained guarded, intact, even amid the chaos. Lizbeth felt an urgent need to embrace her, to pull that small figure close to her chest and offer, even if just for a moment, a refuge.

She didn't know why—only that it was what she felt in that moment.

She wanted to wrap her arms around her, hold her tight until the sadness that enveloped her faded into something warmer.

But she didn't.

Instead, she extended her hand—a simple gesture, but charged with the intention of bridging the distance between them.

The girl looked at her for a second, as if hesitating, then with a slow, almost shy movement, extended her own hand toward Lizbeth. Lizbeth took it.

The touch was brief, but the world around them seemed to disappear for a moment.

There were no grand words—just a gesture.

Lizbeth looked at the girl's hand, small, delicate, and saw in it a strength yet to be fully revealed.

In that instant, it didn't matter who she was or where she came from—only that they were there, together.

The girl broke the silence, her voice low, almost a whisper, as if she didn't want anyone else to hear,
as if she tried to camouflage her presence to avoid notice.

"Mai. Izumi Mai," she said, and Lizbeth noticed how the name seemed to resonate in the air, as if coming from a distant place.

A simple name, yet one that echoed unexpectedly in Lizbeth's thoughts.

Lizbeth smiled—a soft, almost imperceptible smile.

"Lizbeth. Londonderry Lizbeth," she replied in a low tone, careful not to break the magic of the moment, though she knew there was much more behind that name than she was willing to share.

Mai said nothing more. Lizbeth only nodded and, in that brief moment, something silent passed between them.

Mai nodded slightly too, but a faint tremor in her fingers, barely visible, revealed something else: a story, a past of her own, as fraught as Lizbeth's, that was not yet ready to be told. That moment of silent connection said it all, even though nothing was said aloud.

Lizbeth understood that nothing more was needed.

The introduction had been enough, and the rest… maybe the rest could come with time.

Hypnerotomachia-Part 1

End of the First Layer