Project:Imagine

Iris sat in her room, the weight of her recent encounter with Fate still heavy on her mind. Her thoughts spun in a whirl of questions and dread, each one more unsettling than the last. Just as she let out a shaky breath, her attention was pulled to a faint golden glow.

From the red book on her desk, a flurry of golden butterflies burst into the air, fluttering around her like small fragments of light. Their shimmering wings illuminated the dim room, casting an otherworldly glow. The sight made her heart race—she knew what this meant. A new letter had appeared, a message from her future self.

Iris’s hands trembled as she rose from the bed, walking slowly towards the desk where the book lay open. She hesitated, her fingers hovering over the pages as the golden butterflies danced and faded into the air.

The room felt heavier, like the world was holding its breath with her. Steeling herself, she picked up the letter and began to read, her future self’s words inked in a flowing script.

The familiar tension gripped Iris’s heart as she unfolded the letter, her breath catching in her throat. She read carefully, the weight of her future self's words pressing into her like a cold hand.

“If things have unfolded as they did for me, you’ve just spoken with Fate again. By now, you’ve likely heard of the gods' twisted game. But let me guess—he didn’t tell you why he’s truly playing. Fate never answers until it’s too late, and even then, his answers are riddles hidden in half-truths. But know this, Iris: you are more important to him than you realize. His silence is not indifference—he’s protecting you in his own way.”

Iris felt a shiver run down her spine as her eyes scanned the next lines, dreading what came next.

“Within the coming days, you’ll meet another apostle, Maxwell. Yes, it’s that Maxwell—the one I mentioned before. I’d like to prepare you for him, but it’s best if you meet him without any preconceived notions. Let your first reaction be genuine, as mine was. But… there’s one thing I must warn you about. In the game, the classes will play. Try your best to win, Iris. I failed, and he would always taunt me for it. He never let me forget that small defeat, and trust me, it’s a game you’ll want to win.”

The butterflies that had illuminated her room just moments ago now felt like faint, fading echoes of hope as her future self’s tone darkened.

“There’s something else—something I couldn’t tell you before. It’s about your classmates. I had hoped to continue my letters to you sooner, but time is cruel, as you know. There’s no easy way to say this, so I won’t soften it, you cannot save Alice.”

Iris’s heart clenched at the words, and her hands tightened around the paper.

“Her fate is sealed. A few months from now, no matter what you do, she will die. Alice is the one classmate you won’t be able to save. So, please, make her remaining days as joyful as you can. Cherish her. Make her smile while she still can. But when the time comes, you must let her go.”

The final words burned into Iris’s mind, lingering like the echo of a distant storm.

“—Your future self, Iris Blackwell.”

Tears blurred her vision, her mind racing. The heaviness of inevitability wrapped itself around her like chains, but one thing was clear, the stakes were higher than ever, and the time she had left to protect those she loved was slipping through her fingers like sand.

The weight of her future self’s letter still hung heavily in Iris’s mind. Every word echoed in her heart like a cruel verdict, an inevitability she couldn’t accept.

“W-what, what does she mean by all of this? How is it impossible for me to save her… that’s not fair,” Iris whispered, her voice cracking as tears streamed down her face. The image of Alice’s smiling face flashed in her mind—how could she be told to let go, to accept that one of her closest friends would die no matter what? It felt wrong, cruel.

She buried her face in her hands, muffling her sobs as she struggled to come to terms with the words on the page. The room around her felt smaller, the walls closing in as grief wrapped around her like a vice. The golden butterflies from the red book fluttered weakly in the dim light, as if even they couldn’t lift the heaviness of the moment.

A sudden knock broke through her crying. “Hey, Iris. It’s Charles. Jacob’s dragging us to get ice cream. Wanna come?” Charles’s voice was casual, but there was a softness to it, a hint of concern he was trying to mask.

Iris hastily wiped at her tears, forcing her voice to steady. “N-no, I’m fine. You guys go on without me.”

There was a pause on the other side of the door. Charles, perceptive as always, wasn’t buying it. “Iris... what’s wrong?” he asked, his tone more serious now.

Iris squeezed her eyes shut, trying to keep her composure. “Oh, don’t worry, I’m fine, really. I’m perfectly fine,” she lied, her voice trembling despite her efforts to sound normal.

Another pause. Then, Charles’s voice came, firmer this time. “I’m coming in. Either you open the door, or I’ll use my telekinesis to break it down.”

Iris felt her heart skip a beat. She knew Charles was serious—he wasn’t one to bluff when he was concerned. Panic rose in her chest as she scrambled to wipe away the remaining tears, taking a deep breath before opening the door.

“S-see? I’m fine,” she said with a forced smile, though her red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks betrayed her.

Charles stepped into the room, his eyes narrowing as he examined her face with the sharpness of someone who saw straight through lies. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared at her, waiting for her to break under his gaze.

Finally, he sighed. “Iris… tell me the truth. Please.”

“I told you, nothing’s wrong,” Iris insisted, her voice a little too high-pitched to be convincing. “You know what, I’ve changed my mind. I’m suddenly in the mood for ice cream. Let’s go.” She tried to push past him, eager to leave the suffocating conversation behind.

Charles muttered under his breath, shaking his head. “What a horrible liar.”

Iris ignored him, walking out of her room and into the hallway, where the others were gathered. She tried her best to act normal, but her mind was still reeling from the letter. The moment she joined them, though, her attention was pulled to a figure she didn’t recognize.

Standing in the center of the group was a young girl—no older than twelve. Her long black hair was streaked with white, and her green eyes shimmered with an otherworldly brightness. Clutched tightly in her arms was a small teddy bear, worn and faded as if it had been loved for years. Yet, the others were acting like she was just… part of the group.

Iris frowned, confused. “Um, sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. Who are you?” she asked, her tone laced with suspicion.

Jacob glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. “What do you mean, Iris? Anya’s been in our class all year. Are you feeling alright?”

Charles looked over too, his brow furrowed. “Yeah, Iris, are you sure nothing’s wrong?”

Iris blinked, her heart skipping a beat. Anya? She stared at the girl, her mind racing. She knew for a fact that this girl had not been in their class yesterday. This girl—Anya, wasn’t supposed to be here. Something was wrong, very wrong.

“Sorry,” Iris muttered, forcing a smile. “I guess I’m just still tired from everything that happened yesterday.”

As Iris stole another glance at Anya, her suspicions grew deeper. The girl moved effortlessly within the group, laughing along with jokes and chiming in on conversations as if she’d been part of their circle forever. But Iris’s gut told her otherwise. Anya hadn’t been there the day before, and yet, everyone else acted as though she had—like a thread woven into the fabric of their lives, invisible until now.

A chill ran down Iris’s spine. What kind of power could make people forget someone wasn’t real? Or worse—make them believe she was always here?

As they walked to the cafeteria for ice cream, Iris paid close attention to the little details. The others laughed and joked, reminiscing about past events. Every story seemed ordinary, but every time Anya was mentioned, Iris’s skin crawled. She knew these stories were real, but Anya wasn’t. She hadn’t been part of them. It was like a script had been rewritten to include her, altering reality itself.

“What a faker,” Iris muttered under her breath, eyes narrowed at Anya.

Charles, ever the observant one, caught her words. He glanced over at Iris, his face a mixture of curiosity and concern, but he said nothing. His silence spoke volumes—he knew something was off too, but perhaps he was waiting for more clues before acting.

As the group gathered around for ice cream, each person selected their favorite flavor: Iris chose strawberry, Alice grabbed vanilla, Jacob went for chocolate, and Charles indulged in cookies and cream. Celia and Theo both opted for cookie dough, and Xavier, with his typical flair, piled on toppings over a simple vanilla scoop. Anya, however, picked mint chocolate chip, a flavor choice that made Iris’s stomach twist for reasons she couldn’t explain. It was as if the choice itself was designed to further cement Anya’s normalcy—and yet, to Iris, it felt like the final stroke in an elaborate, false painting.

Iris couldn't take her eyes off the girl. Anya seemed… perfect. Too perfect. She smiled, laughed, and even fumbled slightly with her ice cream in a way that seemed so natural it felt rehearsed. The surrounding air carried an unsettling quiet, a void that only Iris could feel. It gnawed at her, urging her to dig deeper.

Who are you really? Iris thought, staring at Anya as the others were distracted by their conversation. What do you want?

Just then, Wallace appeared, his weary eyes giving away the long day he’d had. He licked at his coffee-flavored ice cream, barely keeping his exhaustion hidden behind a yawn.

“Oh, hello everyone. Ice cream nights are always fun, huh?” Wallace yawned, rubbing the back of his neck.

Iris stiffened. Even Wallace acted as if Anya was familiar. She stared at him, hoping for any sign of recognition, any hint that he could see the truth. But he, like the others, addressed Anya as though she belonged there. It made no sense. Wallace should’ve been able to see through any deception, but instead, he regarded her with the same casual warmth as the rest of the group.

Iris felt her heartbeat quicken. If Wallace doesn’t notice anything, then this is deeper than I thought. This isn’t just some trick—it’s like reality itself has been altered.

She gripped her spoon tightly, staring down at her half-melted strawberry ice cream, her thoughts racing. Someone or something powerful was at play. The more she tried to figure it out, the more questions piled up. Was Anya a spy, some kind of illusion? A weapon sent to infiltrate their group, or worse, an apostle of one of the other gods?

But why was she the only one who remembered the truth?

As Anya laughed at something Jacob said, Iris couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched—no, studied. Anya’s gaze briefly flicked toward her, a cold, fleeting glance that made Iris’s stomach turn.

Whatever Anya was, she was dangerous. And Iris was determined to find out how deep this deception ran. But one thing was clear, this wasn’t a coincidence. This was part of the cosmic game Fate had warned her about, and somehow, Anya had become a player.

Iris couldn’t trust her classmates’ memories—or even their perceptions. Anya had woven herself into their lives effortlessly, but Iris knew better. The truth was there, hidden beneath layers of false reality.

As the conversation flowed around her, Iris’s resolve solidified. She had to uncover the truth about Anya. Something was terribly wrong, and the eerie feeling in her gut only grew stronger. She was going to find out who—or what—Anya was before it was too late.

Moments later, Markus joined the group, his presence immediately lightening the atmosphere as he approached his brother.

“Hey, I’m sorry, what was your name again?” Markus asked, his voice casual but laced with an undercurrent of confusion. “I must’ve had too much to drink last night… I can’t even remember their names.” He gestured toward Anya, scratching the back of his head.

Iris's eyes widened. So, it wasn’t just me, she thought, her heart racing. Markus didn’t remember Anya either. This was her first solid clue that something was deeply amiss, and not just her paranoia playing tricks on her.

“It’s Anya,” Anya replied with a bright, disarming smile. “Everyone’s so forgetful today.”

Iris barely heard Anya’s words; her mind was racing. Markus didn’t know who Anya was, just like her. He had chalked it up to his memory, but there was no way this was a coincidence. Something about Anya’s presence, her very existence, was warping reality.

What’s the common link between us? Iris thought, her mind scanning every interaction, every clue.

Before she could delve deeper into her thoughts, Alice approached, her usual timid demeanor amplified by the uncertainty on her face.

“Um, Iris, Markus… if you don’t mind, can I speak with you two alone?” Alice asked, her voice a nervous whisper, glancing at Anya as if she feared being overheard. “There’s something I need to ask you both.”

Intrigued, Iris and Markus exchanged glances before nodding. Alice quietly led them away from the rest of the group, her anxiety palpable as she glanced back at the others—particularly at Anya—before they were out of earshot.

Once they were alone, Alice finally spoke, her voice low but urgent. “Y-you two don’t remember Anya either, right? Everyone else thinks of her as a friend, but I… I have no idea who she is.”

The words hit Iris like a bolt of lightning. She wasn’t alone in this after all.

“I knew it! I knew she was suspicious!” Iris burst out, her excitement bubbling over. Finally, she had confirmation that Anya’s presence wasn’t just a figment of her imagination. Something—or someone—had placed this girl in their midst, and only a select few could see through the deception.

“I see,” Markus muttered, rubbing his chin as he pieced the puzzle together. “So we’re dealing with an authority-type ability, aren’t we? It explains why only the three of us can’t remember her.”

Iris turned to Markus, her curiosity piqued. “Authority? You think that’s what this is?”

“Yeah,” Markus nodded. “Authority-type abilities are rare, but they usually can’t affect other authority users. All three of us possess an authority, which is why we’re unaffected by whatever’s happening to everyone else.”

Alice looked between the two of them, relief mixed with fear. “You really think that’s what’s going on? But how could someone just…implant memories like that?”

Markus’s eyes narrowed. “There's an authority for most aspects of the world, memories would be no different… I guess that Anya—or whoever’s pulling the strings, has access to this ability. That would explain why everyone else believes she’s always been here, but we don’t.”

“Authority users of Space, Reality, and Nothing,” Markus repeated thoughtfully. “The three of us are the only ones with those abilities within the facility… except maybe the Bookkeeper. If he truly has an authority, that is.”

Markus crossed his arms, thinking aloud. “The Bookkeeper is rumored to have an authority, but we don’t have proof. If he does, it could be possible that he already knows exactly what’s going on.”

Iris bit her lip, her mind racing. “So it’s just us three against… whoever or whatever Anya really is?”

Alice looked nervous, her hands clutching each other as she fidgeted. “What… what should we do? We can’t just confront her. What if she’s dangerous?”

“Eliminating her would be simple enough,” Markus continued, his voice cold with calculation, “but it's smarter to let her be for now. We’ll play the long game—befriend her, act like nothing’s changed. Observe her, and watch for slip-ups. I’ll let my brother know about this, but under no circumstances do you tell your classmates. Understood?”

“Agreed,” Iris said. “We’ll keep our eyes on her.”

Markus leaned back against the wall, his tone suddenly shifting to something lighter but still sharp with meaning. “If Anya’s going to make a move, she’ll probably do it during the upcoming joint training event. It’s a prime opportunity.”

Alice, who had been listening intently, furrowed her brow. “Joint training event? What’s that?”

“The Beta facility kids are coming here,” Markus explained, a grin creeping onto his face. “Your class will probably be pitted against them in a game of dodgeball, which is usually a spectacle. Charles can manipulate the game with ease thanks to his telekinesis. It’s always amusing to see who comes out on top, though Wallace gets pretty angry when I start placing bets.”

Iris raised an eyebrow. “Wallace seems to get angry at you quite often.”

Markus chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “It’s a gift. People here tend to get riled up around me for some reason. Truly, I’m a misunderstood genius.”

Iris’s mind flashed back to the letter from her future self. She’d warned her that she would be meeting another apostle soon. Could this event be the stage for that meeting? She wondered. Were the Beta facility students involved somehow? If so, who among them could possibly be Maxwell?

“Can you tell us more about this joint training event?” Alice asked, her voice still tinged with apprehension.

Markus’s grin widened. “You’ll be allowed to use your abilities freely during the competition, which means things can get pretty wild. The Beta facility has a few prodigies, some real powerhouses, but I doubt they’ll be able to stand up to your class. Between Charles’s ability to rig the game and two authority users, I’d say the odds are in your favor.”

Iris’s gaze sharpened, determination burning behind her eyes. “I look forward to it,” she said. This event would be her chance—her chance to uncover Anya’s true nature, and perhaps even face the enigmatic Maxwell.

Markus gave a casual nod, but there was something unreadable in his expression, something more calculating than his easy smile suggested. “Just stay sharp,” he added. “Things are about to get… interesting.”

Later that night, as Iris lay in bed, still mulling over everything Markus had said, the surrounding air stirred with a sudden, intense heat. Without warning, a burst of orange flames erupted from the red book on her desk. From within the blaze, a swarm of butterflies made entirely of fire materialized, fluttering toward her before disintegrating into embers.

Her heart raced. Another letter from her future self. She quickly sat up and snatched the letter from the ashes, her fingers trembling as she unfolded the paper, bracing herself for what it might reveal.

The words stared back at her, as if daring her to read them.

“I’m assuming by now you’ve encountered the snake who goes by the name Anya. You were right to be suspicious. She is the daughter of the man responsible for our parents’ deaths—Nikolai Dostoevsky, Pandora’s apostle. But don’t lose focus. Anya isn’t here for you,her target is Maxwell. Her vendetta against him runs deep, though I never uncovered why. In my timeline, her efforts amounted to little. She’s dangerous, yes, but she won’t be your downfall—keep her in your sights, but don’t lose sleep over her.”

“As for your classmates, it’s time I tell you about the siblings. They survived longer than any of the others, all the way to the final battle. Their loyalty to one another is ironclad, but there is a darkness between them and Charles, a bitterness that grew into something more deadly. In my time, I believe they were responsible for his death.”

“I know what you’re thinking. Why? While I have my theories, I never found out why. It happened during a raid, it was a horrible raid against a certain cult within Japan. That event is years away for you—too far to worry about now, but when the time comes, be ready. If you can, try to prevent the same tragedy from unfolding. Charles’s fate shouldn’t be written in stone.”

“I wish I had known then what I know now, but you still have a chance to change things.”

“—Your future self, Iris Blackwell.”

Iris clenched the letter tightly, her knuckles turning white as tears welled up in her eyes. “Why… why did so many terrible things happen to everyone around me in the future? It’s… it’s too unfair,” she whispered, her voice trembling, as the weight of it all pressed down on her chest. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the sobs threatening to break free, but the pain of knowing what lay ahead was overwhelming. For the first time, she felt utterly powerless against the cruel hand of fate.