Asakura Hao 【4】

"What is this?" — the shaman had been asking himself for many years.

This feeling had been his faithful companion throughout all the millennia, all his reincarnations.

This feeling — emptiness. At least, that's what he called it, because he couldn't quite determine what it really was. But it was unpleasant. As if something was not in its place. But what exactly — Hao could not remember.

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He sat in silence, staring at the fire, trying to catch an elusive thought.

It was somewhere on the edge of consciousness, almost tangible, but whenever he tried to focus — it disappeared. Like a shadow that cannot be caught.

"Why can't I remember?" he thought. "I remember everything. Every battle, every face, every name. But this… this eludes me."

He didn't know how much time had passed. Maybe an hour. Maybe an eternity.

He sat by the fire when suddenly a sharp pain pierced his head. Hao hissed through his teeth, pressing his temples.

And then he heard a voice.

Soft. Tender. Full of sorrow.

The voice sounded so clear, as if someone was standing right behind him.

— How could you forget me?

He turned around sharply.

No one.

Only emptiness, shadows, and the fire that continued to crackle quietly.

His heart was beating faster than usual. Uncharacteristic for a Shaman.

— Who's there? he asked, and his voice was quieter than he intended.