Chapter 6: The Whispers of the Void

Outside their home, on a weathered mood mat, Ichika and his mother sat together. Ichika, engrossed in his newfound ability, manipulated the threads extending from his fingertips. He crafted a triangular tower, a structure of stacked triangles. Finished, he turned to his mother. "How do I create a figure?" he asked, wanting to weave a representation of a human.

"Hmm, I don't think that's possible, honey," she replied, gently deflecting the question. She had never attempted such a complex manipulation and doubted its feasibility.

Ichika's expression fell slightly. He began untangling the threads, which he hadn't yet cut. He was unsure whether to cut them or not. As he worked, the threads became knotted. He looked up at his mother, silently requesting her help.

She sighed and began assisting him. The threads remained stubbornly entangled. Then, she noticed something. When Ichika's attention drifted, his gaze wandering to the clouds drifting across the sky, the knots seemed to loosen, some threads even passing through each other. Observing this, she continued the charade of untangling, subtly manipulating the threads while pretending to struggle.

When Ichika looked down, his threads were free. He could now resume his practice. His mother had once told him, "Power without practice is useless unless they are known to use." She had also shared other enigmatic sayings, such as, "If you use your power, then your ability is not good, and when your power is good, you should relax because you now earned your reward for practicing your ability." He didn't fully grasp the meaning, but he understood the importance of consistent practice.

His mother watched him, a gentle smile on her face, as he practiced his thread manipulation. Yesterday, after their visit to the Almark, the old woman had told them to return. But seeing Ichika's apparent well-being, she debated the necessity of another visit. She sighed, not out of reluctance to go, but because she felt it might be unnecessary.

"Ichika, do you want to go down to the village again?" she asked. Ichika paused his practice and looked up at her. After a moment's thought, he shook his head.

"Okay," she said. "Well, today we can just relax here." She reclined on the mat, her eyes fixed on the drifting clouds. They moved across the sky, unburdened, their existence seemingly effortless.

Ichika continued his practice, his focus unwavering. He was oblivious to his surroundings, confident in his mother's constant presence.

When he felt he had reached the current limits of his thread manipulation, though he knew he was far from mastery, he stopped and looked at his mother. "Mommy," he asked, "what would happen if the thread is cold? Would it be a cold thread?"

"Hmm… yes, technically, but that also means that you need to have a cold ability too," she replied. She wasn't sure why he asked, but she didn't mind. Being with him was all that mattered.

"But how do I get a cold ability?" he asked. If he could acquire such an ability, he could potentially enhance his thread manipulation.

"You would need to be a…" she paused, searching for the right word. "What was the thing again?" she muttered to herself. Just as she was about to give up, the word surfaced. "You would need to be an Astranovual," she said.

"What is an Astranovual?" he asked, completely perplexed. He had never heard this term before, not in any books or stories.

"What? Astranovual?" she echoed, clearly surprised. She looked at him, her expression suggesting she had no idea what he was talking about. The word evoked no memories, no associations.

"The… the…" Ichika stammered, realizing he couldn't recall the context either. "I… I don't know," he admitted.

Suddenly, a flash of blue light engulfed the world, moving with impossible speed. It was so fast that no one could perceive it. This force impacted everything, transforming the sky into a… zero. There was nothing, only blue and white… or perhaps no color at all. 

"Mother, mother!" Ichika jolted from his thoughts, looked at his mother. She was crying, clutching her head, her face contorted in distress. She was tearing at her hair. Ichika, alarmed, quickly tried to stop her.

The world twisted. Blood soaked her hands, warm and slick.

She felt it again, that thing. A splash- then the water in her hands turned crimson. The red spread, staining everything. "In case I don't see you, good morning, good afternoon and good night." Then, darkness. She was on the floor. Ichika was on the floor. The brown floor.