Chapter 3: Seeking Appearance

Inar was radiant. She had a name—a name of her own. She was no longer just "me". She was Inar, and the word danced in her mind like the wind along the space-borne currents.

— "Inar!" — she shouted, spinning atop the white planet. — "Inar! Inar! Inar!"

The sound echoed with delight, bouncing through space, leaping between the stars. The wind whirled around her, responding with playful whispers. The light pulsed, casting shadows across the curved ground. The sound, always mischievous, mimicked her voice, then distorted it into soft laughter.

Inar ran, danced, and then lay down to gaze at the starry sky. Everything around her was hers. Everything had been born from her playfulness and curiosity. Space, time, ground, light, wind—they were her friends. She felt part of it all.

But then a new thought appeared, unexpected and strange.

"What do I look like?"

She froze, sitting cross-legged. Silence came, watchful. She looked around: the light had brightness and color. The wind had movement and whispers. The ground was solid and firm. Even sound had its invisible shapes. But… what about her?

Inar tried to look at herself. It was difficult. Her awareness had always turned outward, like an explorer chasing the unknown. Now, as if pulling an invisible thread, she turned her attention inward. Her perspective twisted, bending like a mirror warping the world.

And then she saw.

There was nothing.

Inar had no form—no body, no face, no limits. She was nothing and, at the same time, everything. Her being blurred into space, time, stars, and wind. She was part of every creation, her essence woven into all she had made. But nothing belonged solely to her.

— "Am I… everything?" — she whispered, voice trembling.

The void seemed to lean closer, curious. The endless nothingness remained, as it always had, patient and present.

Inar frowned. She didn't like the void. The void was cold, empty, indifferent. It was the reason she'd created everything. She had crafted the wind to hear something, the light to see something, the ground to feel something. The void… the void was the absence of all she loved.

— "I don't want to be everything… all the time," — she murmured. — "I want to be… me. Just me."

She fell silent, and time passed. Time. Yes, time had always been there, flowing beside her as she danced, played, and wondered. And space… space was her canvas, her playground.

— "Time and space… they're always with me," — she realized.

And then, a word emerged.

— "Appearance." — she said, tasting the sound. — "I want an appearance."

The universe hesitated. Appearance? It was a new idea, a concept that had never existed before.

Inar smiled. Appearance. Something to make her distinct. Something uniquely hers.

But… what did an appearance mean? She didn't want to mimic what already existed. Not light, not wind, not sound, not ground. It had to be something new. Something… hers.

She knelt and touched the white surface. Concentrating, she felt tiny particles rise around her, floating like golden dust. Small, delicate, yet filled with potential. They were… matter.

— "Matter…" — she whispered, naming what she saw.

The particles hovered in the air, awaiting her will. Inar closed her eyes and imagined something beautiful—something that pleased her as much as the stars overhead.

But… what is beauty? What makes something beautiful? Is everything that exists beautiful?

The thought unraveled her focus. Doubt surged, and her mind, untethered, molded the particles into shapes distorted by her confusion.

The particles twisted and fused into a disfigured form. Limbs uneven, body cracked as though the void leaked through the fractures. The creature had hollow, vacant eyes and a mouth that gaped open, releasing a dry, distorted sound—a grotesque imitation of Inar's laugh.

Her eyes flew open.

The creature stood before her.

— "What… what is that?" — she whispered, voice thin.

The figure moved, its body convulsing in unnatural jerks. Its limbs dragged across the ground. Its empty, fractured eyes seemed to search for something unseen.

Inar scrambled backward, heart racing. A heart. She realized she had one now—and it pounded in terror.

The creature stepped closer. Its broken mouth opened wider, crackling as it released a sound like stone grinding against bone.

— "N-no…" — she stammered.

Then she felt it. A sensation so overwhelming it crushed the breath from her chest and left her trembling.

Fear.

Fear was born at that moment, when Inar saw her distorted creation lurch toward her. It surged like a freezing flame, making the ground tremble, extinguishing sound, silencing the wind.

The creature halted.

And then, like shattered glass, it broke apart. The matter scattered into fragments, dissolving into the void.

Inar fell to her knees, gasping. She stared at her trembling hands.

— "What have I done?" — she whispered.

She touched her face. There was something there. A surface—smooth, cool, and soft. A face. She had… a face.

She turned to the faint reflection cast by the light on the ground. And saw herself.

A girl.

Her body looked like translucent glass, with soft tones shifting beneath the surface like stars submerged in water. Her hair floated around her head, a kaleidoscope of gentle colors that danced with the passing wind. Her eyes… her eyes were infinite, deep and vast, filled with swirling constellations.

Inar touched her cheeks, wide-eyed.

She liked it. It was beautiful. But… what was beauty? Maybe it was simply something that made her smile. And she smiled—wide and genuine.

She stood, and as she spun in delight, her hair shimmered like silk threaded with starlight. The sound returned, the wind breathed again, and the light swirled around her like a joyful companion.

Inar laughed.

And her laughter echoed across the universe, scattering the remnants of fear and rekindling the stars' gentle glow.