Chapter Text
She was losing herself, Amelia knew this. At some point, a sense of listlessness had crept in, bringing with it the prickling sensation that something was off.
And there was something wrong, she could feel the way time had begun to still and constrict whenever she used the Watch, each trip making reality reject her just a little bit more.
She’d tried so hard not to worry her friends—especially Gura—but something must have shown, because they’d all noticed and tried to help in their own ways. And yet, nothing worked. With each day, she felt more and more alien to the universe.
Eventually, things had reached a breaking point. It had been her birthday, and yet the whole day she had felt nothing save for the overwhelming sensation of her essence no longer being at home in this form.
And as she lay in bed at night, unable to sleep through the feeling of her very essence rejecting itself, knowledge unfolded in her mind and she finally knew what to do.
She got out of bed, mumbling the incantation she only now knew as she did so, feeling the weight of each syllable as they stirred stagnant air with an unknowable power which predated even time itself.
“ǹ̶̖ḑ̴͎͒ã̴̩̰̐ ̷̢̯̀̋Í̴͕̯̃ ̷͓̌e̸̙͋ͅb̴͕̘̿ ̸̫̃͛e̸̯͕͆f̴̭̊͊ŕ̴͔̄d̸͍̖͋͌e̴̢̛͝ ̵̠̅͜f̷̣͓̑̋o̷͍̟͌ ̴̘͐t̴̫̏̾h̵͙͂͂i̸̖̩͛ş̷̦͋͂ ̴̡̛̣́f̷̱̏͝m̵̼̋ọ̸̲̈́r̸̡̿”
As the last words left her lips, she felt something akin to a knot unravel deep within her, a metaphysical weight she previously hadn’t noticed lifting from her as a sigh slipped from her unbidden. Already she could feel the core of her being—not her soul but something deeper—separating from her body, its tether cut.
As her senses faded and the last connection to her body failed, leaving her essence to drift amongst the sea of ethereal stars she could only now perceive, she felt her cognition begin to break apart, eroding without an anchor. Yet she was unworried. She knew that doing this would entail giving up parts of herself.
Instead, her last thought before even those faded was; “I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on longer, Gura.”
Through her connection to the Ancient Ones Ina had felt the moment the Ritual was invoked, even if she hadn’t understood what she had felt at the time. She only learned after she met Amelia the next day, much to her horror.
The Ancient Ones had enlightened her of what had occurred then. The Ritual of Rebirth, they called it—a process engraved into the fabric of reality itself, predating and superseding all things, even the Gods.
A means of rebirth, they said. A metaphysical surrender of your current incarnation to restructure your soul into a new form—a new mind and body bereft of any connection to your old one. The only carryover being the Spark which encompasses everything that you were, are, and can be.
There was almost a sense of awe in their words as they spoke of it. They explained that knowledge of the Ritual was so rare even they didn't know how to perform it—that the knowledge of how to undergo the Ritual only revealed itself to those who are ready and willing to undergo it.
And what was left of the participant? A facsimile bereft of the Spark which made them who they were. It could act like them, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be. That lifeless husk couldn’t be Amelia.
Amelia’s Rebirth hit everyone in Myth hard, the gaping hole left by her absence made all the worse by the presence of the facsimile left behind. Yet no one was hit harder than Gura.
She spiraled hard, shutting herself off from everyone for months, only interacting with others infrequently and always avoiding the husk, as if gazing upon what was left of Amelia caused her physical pain.
So it was of no surprise to Ina when approximately seven months after she first felt the Ritual being performed, she felt its power once more.
When Saba first awoke on the beach she became aware of two things: First, a sense of déjà vu, as if she had done this before. Second, the absolute knowledge that she had been someone else before, as shown by the fragmented memories that weren’t her own.
She couldn’t decipher much from the shattered remnants—just that having a tail felt right, the sensation of sunlight and happiness which was cruelly torn away, and the feeling that something was missing.
But that wasn’t her business, not anymore. Whoever she used to be wasn’t her anymore, and that was fine with her. Shaking her head to rid herself of those depressing thoughts, she looked around once more and spotted a lighthouse in the distance, setting off towards it.
As time passed, the feelings and bits of knowledge gleaned from those fragmented memories became the norm—rarely triggered and simply a part of who she now was. Thus, her first reaction to meeting the girl she would come to know was named Dooby took her by complete surprise.
Dooby stood transfixed in the middle of the aisle. At the far end of the aisle stood a girl, just as still as her, her fish tail frozen mid-swing and her blue eyes shot wide with shock.
Before she could string together a thought, Dooby found herself running towards the girl, unbidden tears building in her eyes. Distantly, she noted that the girl was running towards her and crying as well, sparking an instinctive and irrational desire to fight whatever made her cry.
They met in a tight hug, silent tears streaming down their faces as the hole which had existed in their hearts every waking moment was finally filled.
It was a quiet afternoon when Calli found them.
She saw them from afar, laughter carried on the wind. Two girls sprawled across a sun-warmed cliffside that overlooked the endless ocean. They were watching the clouds, passing a pair of binoculars between them, pointing at ships and gulls and the shapes of dreams in the sky.
They were unmistakable.
Not in form—neither face called out to her with familiarity—but in Spark. She could feel it, raw and undeniable. The Spark of Gura, wild and unrelenting, still ocean-hearted and full of wonder. The Spark of Amelia, curious and clever, always two steps ahead, always looking.
Calli watched them from afar, unseen. Her hand hovered at her side, fingers itching to wave, to call out, to do something. But she stayed still.
They didn’t know her. Not anymore.
And as she watched Saba nudge Dooby with her foot, and Dooby retaliate by tackling her into the grass, both of them dissolving into laughter, she knew the truth:
They were happy. They were free in a way they had never been before, not as Amelia and Gura.
Calli smiled, though her heart ached. She thought of the birthdays they’d spent together, of late-night tangents and off-key karaoke. All of that was hers to carry now. Not theirs.
It would be cruel to speak to them as if nothing had changed. Cruel to drag them back into something they had let go of, to tie new names to old lives.
And so, she stood, watching the two girls laugh in the golden light, feeling that ache settle deep in her chest like a seed. She would not water it with grief. She would honor it.
Turning away, she walked back the way she came.
They didn’t remember her. But she remembered them.