Nothing Like the Present

To summarise: I was betrayed by the people I protected. Outcast. Locked away. Forgotten.

The wounds still sting like yesterday.

But here I am.

Not in chains.

Not sealed in silence.

I'm here. In the present. Out in the open. Forgotten.

Change—it's the only constant. But this?

This world feels like a stranger wearing my clothes.

Bright streets. Floating screens. Fairies in tech-woven robes wielding glittery plastic wands.

Where's the rawness? The grit? The rituals?

Where are the runes carved by hand and lit by breath?

I tossed my purple-streaked hair back and faced the crowd.

Faces that didn't know me.

Eyes that had never heard my name.

Lives that had marched on like I'd never existed.

Time had passed—more than a century, apparently.

I don't know why it shocked me.

But it did.

It shook something loose. Something raw and aching.