While Andromeda slept, White and Whisper elected against bringing her into their shared mind, just so she could get as much rest as possible.

In the past few days, Whisper had made herself at home in the shared space. While White was content to read and review both Andromeda’s memories and their notes on magic, Whisper was a bit more flighty in her interests. At that very moment, she was sat sideways in a chair playing with a knickknack that according to White was called a “Roobicks Cube” and was having a time of it.

By this point, White had gathered enough control and experience in the shared space that she had emulated a normal world completely. If you dropped someone inside without context, they would think they were standing in the middle of an infinite field of grass with a single modestly sized house sitting in the middle.

She did this half because the view of infinite white void in every direction had grown boring, and half because Whisper came to the same conclusion in a fraction of the time.

The house was modestly sized on the outside, but because space and time had no real meaning in this place, White was able to play very fast and loose with the concept of spacial orientation. What that meant in practice was that everyone could have a room to themselves, and White could turn what any normal person would assume was a closet into a vast collection of bookshelves. She wholeheartedly stole this idea from Cylas and how their rooms similarly didn’t make sense.

Andromeda didn’t spend enough time inside to really need a dedicated room on account of actually living in the material world, so the house was basically just theirs. Against White’s better judgement and due to Andromeda’s consistent nagging, they included a living room.

In that living room was where both White and Whisper currently were. As it was already said, Whisper was fiddling around with the puzzle toy that she could wrap her mind around how it worked, while White was sitting in a nearby chair reading a book. It wasn’t anything she didn’t already know to be fair, but reviewing was important.

After a few minutes of messing around with it, Whisper set the puzzle down on the table beside her and the toy faded away.

“Give up?” White asked.

“Yeah, I got one side to be mostly the same color, but couldn’t get the rest.” Whisper said.

“I would have thought puzzles would be easy for you, Can’t be harder than rooting around in people’s mind.” White said. This drew a frown from Whisper and made her sit up in the chair.

“That’s not the same, when you spend a long time doing something because you were afraid to die, you get good at doing it.” Whisper said.

“I’m kidding.” White said.

“White, it’s not funny. I know I’ve done things, but making light of them isn’t the right thing to do.” Whisper said. White noticed how the artificial sky of their shared spare darkened slightly and realized she had taken it too far. She put the book she was reading down and walked over to the seat near Whisper.

“I’m sorry, you’re right.” White said. Whisper saw the genuine concern in White’s eyes and felt guilty.

“It’s fine, I shouldn’t have reacted like that.” Whisper said.

No matter how many times they talked, it always seemed to come back to this moment. Shame and regret. Deep in the back of White’s mind, she couldn’t forget what had Whisper had done, and in the forefront of Whisper’s, she did the same.

She wanted to move past it and come to terms with it, but that felt wrong as well. Whisper undeniable did awful things to countless people. To forget that would be…

Forget…

“Whisper, you said you remember some things from your… Hosts… Right?” White said.

“For some I do, not all.” Whisper said.

In White’s hand, suddenly, an empty book and a pen appeared.

“Can you tell me about some of their memories?” White said.

“Why?” Whisper asked.

“One of the jobs I’ve taken upon myself is to record everything we do. All of Andromeda’s memories, thoughts, experiences, everything. That would go for me as well, but I don’t have much to contribute, but you are a part of this as well. The memories you hold, even if they were not yours to begin with, are now a part of our mind. I think they shouldn’t be forgotten.” White said.

“I guess that makes sense, but is it right for me to tell their stories? I’m the reason they are gone.” Whisper said.

“That’s not a question I can answer for you. I’m just offering the chance to say yes.” White said.

“I guess we can try, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do this again.” Whisper said.

“All I ask is that we try.” White said, flipping to the first page of the fresh book.

“If I was going to start anywhere, the beginning would be the right place. Right?”

-----

It was a long time ago, and a long way away. I don’t know when it happened, or where. But I know those two things for sure.

The first memories I have are of sitting in a cold, dark room. I could feel a terrible hunger all throughout me, tearing me from the inside out. I could feel the skin on my bones and the weak heart in my chest.

I remember seeing someone open a door, the light from behind them nearly blinding me.

A woman, her eyes so kind and warm, she handed me something. It was a bowl, and it was warm in the hand. I smelled the faint smell of almonds and a sweet smell I couldn’t recognize. I barely thought about it before tipping the bowl to my mouth and taking a greedy swig from it.

I could taste the sweetness pass my tongue, and down my throat, and into my stomach.

The pain subsided for only a moment, then I felt tired, and cold. My eyes grew heavy, as did my body. I wanted to desperately to sleep.

Before I collapsed, I looked up to see the kind woman’s eyes full of tears. She held me and the cold took me.

…

I am standing above a well, my lips dry and cracked. A terrible pain in my stomach. I am starving. My heart ached and my chest tightened. I was so thirsty. I wished so desperately to feel the cold, refreshing relief of water.

I pulled the rope up, the bucket heavy. I look inside and see it brown and tainted. In my haste, I barely think before taking a long drunk of the putrid water. My stomach turns and rejects it.

I fall to the ground, feeling the knots in my stomach twist and turn over themselves, my body violently throws itself around so much that I can’t control myself.

It passes, I taste iron in my mouth.

…

Nothing grows, nothing lives, I can’t remember the last time I felt the relief of food touching my lips. My weary bones rake at fields that yield nothing. I lost them, they are gone, I’ll never be able to see their smiling faces or hear their laughing voices. It is silent, I trod at the earth in vain hope that a miracle might occur.

I hear behind me, a voice, barely louder than the wind at my back. I turn to see nothing.

Another whisper, another sweet nothing. Guiding me to somewhere. Promising me the world. I hear its voice. It calls to me. It gives me hope where none was.

I am so tired. I just want to rest. I just want to sit down and never stand back up.

I hear the voice. It guides me. It gives me hope.

I want to… I want to move forward. I want to stop.

I am so tired. My bones are tired. I can’t walk anymore, my arms carry me. I feel nothing, I remember nothing. I am tired.

The voice is gone, the hope is gone, my life is gone. I am gone.

I am so tired.

I am so tired.

I… am… so…

So…

…

-----

Whisper sat silently. White’s hand stopped dead on the page, waiting for the next word. Whisper’s eyes stared into the middle distance as if in a trance. Though there was no need to breathe in this world, they still did so as instinct, but Whisper At this moment was completely still. White would have sworn she was a statue with how still she was.

White put her hand on Whisper’s lap, and the touch seemed to shock her from her state.

“Is that it?” White asked.

“I’m not sure, but I’d like to take some time from this. If that’s alright.” Whisper said.

“Take as much time as you need.” White said. With that said, Whisper stood up and left the room.

White looked over the record of what she just wrote, she could feel a pit in her stomach. No matter the nature of such things, this was just…

She shook her head and placed the book on the table.

She didn’t know.

Whisper had carried such a burden, and she joked about it. She felt nothing but shame, no one deserved this. This was torture. This existence was torture.

Deep in the pit of her soul, she felt a small pang of relief. As the pain Whisper endured was to be shared among them. That was their fate, and she didn’t regret that anymore.