????? VII

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The void is like being inside a storm, a wild and terrible storm that has no mercy for anyone that may get caught in it.

There's no ground, just a strange nothingness under her—her? Her feels right— that makes her stomach feel like she is riding the most intricate rollercoaster, with upturning twists and zero gravity drops.

There's no direction, no forward or backwards, not even right or left.

Just.

The.

Void.

How did she get here? Where was she? Who is she? Has she forgotten also how to breathe? Her lungs feel like they're underwater.

She is not cold nor warm-is there even air in the void?— everything feels like her exact body temperature and is the most uncanny and terrible thing she has ever felt upon her skin.

Raising a hand in the strange abyssal storm, she hopes for a way forward-but there's no forward anymore-a light or a sign to where to go. But the only thing that comes from her hand are tiny pearls of gold that glimmer in the dark and float in front—front? Back? Right? Left?—of her like pieces of bread to guide her back home.

Home.

Where's that?

There's no place like home.

Right…but which way home? Front or back, right or left.

Can she even move, how does one walk? Legs, she needs her legs to move, one in front of the other, right?

Huh.

Can she speak? But then again, she doesn't remember how to breathe, how does one breathes.

She opens her mouth and waits. This is the first step, right. Then, sound comes. Right?

Yes, sound, the tongue and the mouth move the sound and create words.

She screams, but she hears nothing.

She must be doing something wrong, clearly.

Maybe she needs to be louder. Yes, that must be it. She doesn't know why, but she knows it's important that she gets out of here.

Before she can scream again, she hears something, like a whisper in a storm.

'Get….out….?'

It's a voice, but it feels like many at the same time, like a choir singing in unison.

Can….can this voice hear her thoughts?

'Thoughts'

Well, that answers the question. Maybe the voice know who she is and where home is.

'Enuma'

Whispers the voice. She tilts her head. No, that doesn't sound right. Is the voice truly sure?

'Enuma…home…Neth'

Neth? Hmmmm…where is that? She cannot even tell where right or left are. And still, she doesn't feel like that's her name.

Her name…who had named her? She felt…like that was important.

Yes. Her name, someone she loved had named her. She needed to return home to see them again.

'Not….safe'

Safe? Home was always safe. It was where her family was, right?

All of her family….why couldn't she remember her family?

'Not…safe…there…'

But…she didn't feel like that…maybe, some of the others had…but…

Hmm? What others?

'Nima…Dagma…Enma…Alma…Shujama…Ryoma…Masuma…Kazuma…Dharma…Nilima….Ama…Lama….Tama….Yrma….Luma….Kharma….Selema ….Ogma….'

The voice keeps going for what feels like an eternity. Does the voice know the name to each and everyone of them?

'Safe….in…Neth….'

The voice…saved them? Is the voice the city? Like…..Nima had said?

Nima…yes, Nima had pushed her, to take her home….he had said to enjoy the sun for him…Nima…who could no longer return…

Ah.

Her name.

Nima had said it. Her name Is Molly. Molly Jefferson. She had been named by her mother. After her great grandmother.

And she needed to return home.

'Home….Neth…'

No, Neth was not her home.

'Why….not….Give…gifts'

Gifts? What gifts? Oh! The superpowers, yes, that would be a good gift, but Molly wanted her home, with a sun and all of her memories intact.

'Memories….bad…'

Not all of them, thinks Molly, what is wrong about a name? Or your own language?

'Leave…with….memories'

Hmm, would the other really want to leave if they had their memories? Why would they? What keeps them in Neth is the timeframe Nima spoke of, and most of the other nomads don't even want to leave, not even Nima wants to.

'Nima…..eye….catcher'

Molly didn't understand that one, but she continued with her thoughts. Maybe with their memories, the nomads would be happier, a name may seem useless and merely an accessory to some…but to others…a name meant so much. And the language…it's the same! The special culture that each person has, that little piece of their home outside of home, a tie to what they lost in what they gained.

The voice stops talking, no matter how much Molly screams in her head. Is she forever trapped in the in between worlds? Frozen in time, floating in the eternal void of nothingness, with only the abyss for company? Why does it even grab people anyway? To save them, Nima had said, but…really?

'All…safe…'

All? So Nima was right? The city thought—thought, what a weird concept, did the city really have a consciousness?—it was saving people.

'All…of them….Safe….in..Neth'

Then Neth should know what would make them happy. Maybe they don't even know what happiness is, but Neth should allow them to experience the possibilities of it, even if it hurts sometimes.

The voice stays quiet and Molly wonders if she has won the moral battle that they've been having.

'Home….?....'

Molly blinks. Yes she wants to go home and really Neth—or Ayth or whatever— should decide if the people they took away are happy like that.

Are they? Molly tries to think harder at the void—is that even possible? Is the city or the god or whatever reading her mind?— give and take, that's how the world works, you cannot take and take without giving something in return. The superpowers may be cool, but to some people, it's not enough.

People need to live with bad memories and allow the good ones to bury the bad ones, you can't just forget the past, the bad and the good it's what makes a person.

Before Molly can continue her moral tirade, air enters her lungs followed by water, and suddenly she is no longer floating in the void, she instead floats in the bottom of a pool.

A pool.

Her feet remember to move as her lungs start to scream at the absence of air, she kicks up and surfaces—Still wearing her beautiful dress and with a strange knowledge that she has gained some sort of power—air filling her lungs.

It all looks the same, is night and a party seems to be going on inside the house, no one is close to the pool, whoever pushed her in ran away afterwards, Molly doesn't care about any of that. As she floats in the heated water, she cups her palm, remembers how Dag had created jewels out of nothing and watches as a tiny sapphire grows from her skin. Molly sighs and smiles.

She is home