Project:Imagine

After the birthday party, Iris, felt a wave of exhaustion wash over her. She trudged back to her room, every step heavy with the day's events. The moment she reached her bed, she collapsed onto it, her body sinking into the mattress as if it were the most comfortable place in the world. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a new letter from her future self resting on her nightstand. The familiar red book lay open, a fresh page filled with the handwriting she had come to recognize. But for now, she chose not to read it. The day's weight, both physically and emotionally, was too much to bear at that moment. She closed her eyes and let sleep take her, slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber, free from visions of the future or the enigmatic Fate.

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was the room's strange, warm glow. She sat up slowly, blinking to clear the remnants of sleep from her eyes. The source of the light became apparent almost immediately. The butterflies made of fire, which she had seen before, were more numerous than ever. They flitted around the room, their movements erratic and unpredictable. The small creatures filled the space with a soft, flickering light, casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Iris watched in awe as the fiery butterflies multiplied, their numbers filling the room with a surreal beauty. The gentle hum of their wings was almost hypnotic, a comforting sound that seemed to resonate with her own heartbeat. The flames they carried did not burn, but they radiated a warmth that was both comforting and disconcerting. As she observed them, she couldn't help but wonder what they meant. Were they a manifestation of her powers, a reflection of her inner turmoil, or a message from the future?

Whatever the reason, the sight of the fire butterflies was both mesmerizing and unsettling. Their erratic movements suggested a restlessness, a kind of chaotic energy that seemed to mirror the uncertainty of her own situation. They danced around her, their fiery glow illuminating the room in a soft, golden light.

With a deep sigh, Iris swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. The exhaustion from the previous day still lingered, but the sight of the butterflies filled her with a renewed sense of curiosity and determination. She knew she couldn't ignore the letter forever, and the presence of the butterflies felt like a gentle reminder that her journey was far from over. As she reached for the red book, the fire butterflies continued their dance around her, their light casting an ethereal glow on the pages. With a deep breath, Iris prepared herself to read the new message, ready to face whatever the future might hold.

The moment Iris touched the red book, the room's ethereal glow vanished. The fire butterflies disappeared one by one, extinguished as easily as blowing out a candle. The soft, comforting hum that had filled the air was abruptly replaced by a terrifying cacophony. A frenzied, raving roar emanated from the book, accompanied by chilling screams of pure madness. The sound was so intense that Iris's ears began to bleed, a sharp, piercing pain shooting through her head.

As the noise reached its peak, Iris felt a strange sensation in her eyes. Her irises began to change, a vivid red ring forming around them. She felt an inexplicable compulsion to open the red book, as if an unseen force was drawing her in. Despite the agony, she read the page with trembling hands, desperate and compelled to read the message.

Inside, only seven words were written. There was no signature, no comforting sign-off from her future self, just a simple, haunting message. As her eyes scanned the page, the room seemed to close in around her. The words seared themselves into her mind, leaving a deep, unsettling imprint. Blood tears streamed down her face, mingling with the blood from her ears. The world around her blurred and darkened, the last remnants of her consciousness slipping away.

Iris passed out, collapsing onto the floor with a dull thud. The room fell silent once more, the horrific noises and chaotic energy vanishing as suddenly as they had appeared. The seven words remained etched in her mind, a lingering echo that would haunt her waking moments and her dreams. As she lay unconscious, the red book lay open beside her, its secrets temporarily hidden, but far from forgotten.

A few hours later, Wallace came rushing into Iris's room, his face pale with worry. It had been reported that Iris hadn't shown up for class, and despite no abnormalities on her heart monitor, his concern grew when he saw the blood smeared across her cheeks, mingling with her tears. The sight sent a chill down his spine. As his eyes scanned the room, he noticed a worn, ripped-up notebook on her desk. It looked ordinary, devoid of any writing. To Wallace, the red book appeared as nothing more than an old, empty journal, its true nature hidden from him and only visible to Iris.

Desperate to help, Wallace placed his hands over Iris's eyes, his fingers glowing with a soothing green aura. His healing powers, usually so reliable, had no effect. The blood wasn't from a physical wound. Madness was the first thought that crossed his mind, but it didn't fit. Authority-type abilities, like the one Iris presumably had, typically provided immunity against such effects. Moreover, there were no physical alterations to her body, which further puzzled him.

Without a second thought, Wallace scooped Iris up in his arms and he sprinted out of the room with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. As he approached the railing, he leaped over it, landing with a jolt. He quickly used his powers to heal the impact, minimizing any potential injury. His feet barely touched the ground as he raced toward the medical office, ignoring the confused and concerned looks from students in the hallways. Among them was Charles, who immediately began to follow, his face etched with worry. However, Wallace was too fast, and Charles struggled to keep up.

Bursting into the medical office, Wallace gently laid Iris on a hospital bed. He hurriedly set up various monitors and equipment, frantically checking for any signs of injury or abnormality. His brow furrowed in concentration, and beads of sweat formed on his forehead. Yet, despite his best efforts, there was nothing visibly wrong with her. The blood continued to trickle from her eyes, staining the pillow beneath her head.

A few minutes later, the door slammed open as Charles rushed in, breathless and wide-eyed. “What happened to her? Is she okay?” he demanded, his voice shaky with fear.

Wallace shook his head, a deep frown etched on his face. “I don't know,” he admitted, his voice laced with uncertainty. “There doesn't seem to be anything physically wrong with her. Her vitals are stable, but this… whatever it is, it's beyond my understanding.”

Charles clenched his fists, frustration, and helplessness evident in his eyes. “There must be something we can do,” he insisted. “We can't just leave her like this.”

Wallace sighed, placing a comforting hand on Charles's shoulder. “We'll keep monitoring her,” he said, trying to sound reassuring. “For now, all we can do is wait and see if she wakes up on her own. We need to figure out what caused this, but until then, we can only hope she'll recover.”

As the two stood by Iris's bedside, the room was filled with a tense silence. The steady beeping of the heart monitor was the only sound, a rhythmic reminder of the unknown battle Iris was facing. Wallace's mind raced, searching for answers, while Charles watched over his friend with a protective gaze. The situation was dire, and the uncertainty of it all gnawed at them. The red book's influence remained a mystery, its secrets locked away, leaving Wallace and Charles to grapple with the fear of the unknown and the hope that Iris would soon awaken.

Fate suddenly burst through the door, appearing winded as if he'd just sprinted there. His eyes darted to Iris, and without hesitation, he rushed over to her bedside, roughly shoving Charles aside in the process.

"Ow! What was that for?" Charles exclaimed, his voice rising in anger.

"Shut it, you pest," Fate snapped, his tone cold and unyielding. "Don't make another sound, or else."

Wallace stepped forward, his expression darkening. "What are you doing here, Bookkeeper? Unless you're finally going to answer my question from last time, I don't want you in here," he demanded, his voice filled with distrust.

Fate ignored Wallace's remark, his focus solely on Iris. "She seems to have suffered a mental-based attack," he began, his voice uncharacteristically serious. "An attack of this magnitude would typically drive an Awakened into madness. However, due to her Authority, Iris will remain unaffected by its corrupting influence. Her mind has sustained damage, which is why she's unconscious, but there shouldn't be any major side effects."

Wallace's eyes narrowed as he processed the information. "So she does have an Authority. At least tell me what it is," he requested, his voice firm but with a hint of curiosity.

Fate glanced at Wallace, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “Fine. The payment for this information is you continuing to watch over and treat her,” he stated. “Iris has pyrokinesis, but her true power lies in the Authority of Nothing. These abilities have fused, creating flames capable of burning away aura itself. The Authority she possesses is far more potent than merely erasing aura. You Authority users rarely grasp the full extent of your power.”

Wallace's eyes widened in realization. “Authority of Nothing… what an odd yet powerful ability,” he mused, his mind racing with the implications.

Charles, his earlier anger forgotten, looked at Fate with desperation. “So you're saying Iris will be fine, right?” he asked, his voice tinged with worry.

Fate turned to Charles, a strange expression on his face. “Yes, that is true,” he confirmed. Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “How odd… your future has changed. Be happy, boy, though I'm not sure how but, your lifespan has increased.”

With those cryptic words, Fate turned and walked out of the room, leaving behind a heavy silence. Wallace and Charles exchanged worried glances, the weight of Fate's revelation settling over them. The enigmatic figure's sudden appearance and ominous comments only deepened the mystery surrounding Iris's condition and abilities.

“Who was that man? He was weird. And what did he mean by my future has changed?” Charles questioned, still puzzled and uneasy.

Wallace sighed, leaning against the wall as he gathered his thoughts. “That man is A.E.G.I.S’s greatest asset, the Bookkeeper. Somehow, he knows everything, including everyone's future. For the first time, he seemed surprised. Apparently, you’ve managed to change your future. That man said it couldn’t be done unless he did it,” Wallace commented, his tone carrying a mix of respect and fear.

“This must be a good thing... I hope,” Charles muttered, trying to find solace in the uncertainty.

---

Meanwhile, within the birdcage, the demon loomed over an unconscious Future Iris, a sinister smile spreading across his face. With a swift, brutal kick, he sent her crashing into the bars of the cage, the sickening sound of breaking ribs echoing in the confined space. As she slumped to the floor, gasping in pain, the demon nonchalantly held out his hand, healing her wounds with a flicker of dark energy.

“What… what did you do to me? How is Iris? Did she get today’s message?” Future Iris groaned, struggling to rise as she clutched her sides.

The demon chuckled, a mocking sound that reverberated through the room. “Oh, everything went splendidly. Though, I must say, the changes you made to your letter were quite interesting,” he sneered, his eyes glinting with malice.

“What changes? What are you talking about, you bastard?” Future Iris demanded, her voice laced with a mixture of confusion and anger.

The demon's laughter grew louder, more derisive. “Oh, it would be too boring to just tell you. Let’s say I added a bit of spice after your rude attitude yesterday. She should be unconscious for a bit, I hope she wakes up before the 13th, or both she and Wallace will die,” he said, his voice dripping with sadistic glee.

Future Iris's eyes flared with a mix of horror and rage as the demon's taunting words settled into her mind. Determined to fight back against the dark force that tormented her, she summoned her flames with a fierce intensity. The fire whirled around her hand, coalescing into a brilliant, blazing sword. With a battle cry that echoed through the chamber, she lunged at the demon, slashing at him with all her strength.

The demon moved with a grace that belied his sinister nature, effortlessly sidestepping each of her strikes. His movements were fluid, almost playful, as if toying with her. Future Iris pushed herself harder, igniting her flames with a furious brightness that lit up the dark room. The heat radiated off her, causing the air to shimmer, but the demon continued to evade her attacks with infuriating ease.

As she intensified her assault, she utilized her flames to propel herself faster, her sword slicing through the air in fiery arcs. The cage-like room was soon filled with the crackling sound of fire and the sharp clang of metal as her sword clashed against the demon's dark energy. The ground beneath them scorched with each step she took, leaving charred marks in her wake.

Despite her relentless efforts, the demon seemed to be always one step ahead, dodging her strikes with a sinister smirk. His eyes glowed with a malevolent amusement, as if mocking her futile attempts to land a blow. The longer the fight dragged on, the more exhausted Future Iris became. Her breaths grew ragged, her muscles burned with fatigue, and the fiery sword in her hand began to flicker.

After what felt like hours of relentless fighting, her energy finally waned. Her movements slowed, her swings less precise. The demon seized the opportunity, effortlessly deflecting her weakened strikes with a wave of his hand. With a final burst of energy, Future Iris lunged at him, but he caught her wrist mid-swing, twisting it with a painful snap. The fiery sword dissipated into embers, and she stumbled back, gasping for breath.

The demon loomed over her, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. “Is that all you’ve got?” he taunted, his voice dripping with condescension. “How disappointing.”

Future Iris glared up at him, her body trembling with exhaustion and frustration. She had given everything she had, but it wasn’t enough. The demon's power was overwhelming, and she felt the sting of her own powerlessness. As the surrounding flames finally extinguished, leaving only the cold darkness of the room, she realized just how dire their situation truly was. The demon's laughter echoed in her ears, a chilling reminder of the twisted game she was trapped in.

“I'll come back to let you know when she wakes up,” the demon sneered, his voice dripping with malice. He relished the power he held over her, savoring each moment of her suffering. "Don't worry, attack me as often as you want. In this ruined world, you're the only one who still has the courage to do so.”

His laughter echoed in the dark room, a haunting sound that reverberated through the cold, desolate space. As he turned and walked away, his steps were slow and deliberate, each one a reminder of the twisted game he played. The darkness seemed to close in around him, swallowing the sinister figure until he was nothing but a memory.

Future Iris lay on the cold, hard floor of the cage, her body trembling with exhaustion. The pain in her wrist was sharp and relentless, a cruel reminder of her failed attempt to fight back. She clutched her wrist, feeling the sting of the injury, her breath ragged and shallow. The weight of the cage bars pressed down on her, a symbol of her imprisonment and the hopelessness of her situation.

Tears welled up in her eyes, a mix of frustration, anger, and despair. She had fought with all her might, but it had not been enough. The demon's taunts echoed in her mind, a cruel reminder of her powerlessness. Yet, amidst the pain and exhaustion, a flicker of defiance remained. She refused to give in completely, even as the world around her crumbled.

As the silence settled in, Future Iris closed her eyes, trying to gather her strength. The cold metal of the cage bars pressed against her back, a stark contrast to the warmth of the flames she had wielded. Her thoughts drifted to her past self, the one still untouched by the horrors of this world. She prayed that her past self would find the strength to change their fate, to fight against the darkness that threatened to consume them both.

With a deep, shuddering breath, she let herself sink into the darkness, her mind clinging to the hope that, somehow, things could still change. That somewhere, in another time, another place, there was a chance for redemption. The demon's laughter lingered in the air, a haunting reminder of the struggle that lay ahead. But for now, she allowed herself a moment of rest, her body, and spirit weary from the endless battle.

For many days, Iris remained unconscious, trapped in a dark, dreamless void. But on the night of the 12th, something stirred within her. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing a dimly lit room. The sterile scent of the medical office was familiar, grounding her in reality. She felt the weight of a blanket over her and heard the soft hum of machines monitoring her vitals.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed Charles slumped over next to her bed. He had stayed with her, his head resting on the bed's edge as he sat awkwardly in a chair that looked far from comfortable. His breathing was steady, the gentle rise and fall of his chest offering a comforting rhythm. A small, tender smile crept onto Iris's lips as she watched him, a silent appreciation for his unwavering loyalty.

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris noticed something unusual. A small, flaming butterfly floated towards her, its wings shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. Time seemed to slow, and for a moment, the world outside the room faded away. Even the ticking clock on the wall was silent, its hands frozen in place. The butterfly gently landed on Iris’s lap, and as it did, it transformed into a piece of paper, a ripped-out journal page, crumpled and stained with tears. The handwriting was messy and uneven, as if written with a shaky, non-dominant hand.

A sense of dread washed over her as she picked up the letter. She unfolded the paper carefully, feeling the weight of the words yet to be read. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her hands trembled slightly as she began to read the message. The ink was smudged in places, and the writing seemed rushed, almost frantic. The emotional turmoil of the writer was evident in every stroke, each word dripping with pain and desperation.

As Iris stared at the letter, she felt sorrow for her future self, and worried about her well-being. The tears that had stained the paper felt fresh, as if the emotions contained within the words were still raw and alive. The message held an urgency, a plea that transcended time and space, reaching out to her from a place of profound darkness.

As Iris unfolded the letter, a voice filled the room. It was unmistakably her own, yet it carried a depth and gravity that sent shivers down her spine. “You must listen to my message,” the voice intoned, clear and urgent. “A horrible ordeal is about to confront you.”

The weight of the words pressed down on her like a heavy, ominous presence. Iris felt her pulse quicken, her breath catching in her throat. The voice, imbued with the authority of her future self, resonated with an undeniable truth. This was not a mere warning; it was a desperate plea from a future where everything had gone terribly wrong.

With trembling hands, Iris looked at the message from her future self, the fear of what it might contain gnawing at her. She took a deep breath and began to read.

“The red book is not your only danger. While using it led to our personal tragedy, the ordeal you face tomorrow threatens to bring about a catastrophe for all of A.E.G.I.S. You must be the one to correct the disasters of my era. Please, I beg you, prevent the horrors of tomorrow. Tomorrow, Wallace Valentine will die. Alone in his office, he will be poisoned and then beheaded. Before seven o'clock, you must be in his office. Prevent him from drinking his coffee, as it has been poisoned.

Should Wallace die, we will lose an extraordinary healer. Moreover, Markus, the strongest Awakened, will plunge into utter despair. His despair will make future tragedies far more challenging to avert. I am sorry to place this burden upon you, but it must be done. Please, do not let your time end as mine has.

—Your future self, Iris Blackwell”

The final words echoed in her mind, searing themselves into her memory. The gravity of the situation was overwhelming, but Iris knew she couldn't falter. The fate of her friends, her future self, and all of A.E.G.I.S. rested on her shoulders. As the letter slipped from her fingers, she steeled herself for the monumental task ahead, determined to change the course of fate.

Iris gazed at Charles, his peaceful, slumbering form offering a brief moment of solace amid chaos. His presence here, in the quiet of the night, was a testament to his loyalty and concern. But it also meant he would likely be pulled into the storm brewing on the horizon. The impending disaster was a shadow looming over A.E.G.I.S., and now, the weight of that knowledge felt like a tangible burden on Iris's shoulders.

Yet, as she looked at him, a surge of determination welled up within her. Charles's unwavering support and the bond they shared filled her with a renewed sense of purpose. She knew she couldn't face this alone, and with him by her side, the impossible seemed within reach. She could protect everyone, she had to. The stakes were too high to falter now.

As the clock ticked closer to dawn, Iris felt the urgency of the situation crystallize into a steely resolve. In just a few hours, A.E.G.I.S. would be plunged into chaos. But she would be ready. She had to be. With a final, resolute look at the sleeping Charles, she silently vowed to do everything in her power to avert the catastrophe that loomed ahead. The fate of her world hinged on the choices she would make, and she was determined to ensure they were the right ones.

The night was heavy with anticipation, and the quiet before the storm was palpable. As the first light of dawn began to creep into the room, Iris knew that this day would test her in ways she had never imagined. But she was ready to face whatever came her way. For the sake of her friends, and her future self. Iris braced herself for the battle that lay ahead.