🌒 ARC22: I Couldn't Hear It Break

I was walking.

There was no reason left.

I hadn’t decided where I was going.

Even so, only my legs kept moving forward.

Past scorched ground, between fallen trees, Lumia kept going. She didn’t know if it was night or morning. Even when the sky changed color, it didn’t connect to the passage of time.

Something in her chest had been loud the whole time.

Not pain.

Not sadness, not anger either.

Just—unsettled.

She tried to steady her breathing, but it wouldn’t settle. Every inhale felt like it might pull something back. That frightened her, and she repeated shallow breaths.

There was a fallen tree at her feet—something that could have been split for firewood.

For no reason, she sent light through it.

A dry sound.

The wood tore into fine slivers.

Once more.

Again—light.

The fallen trunk didn’t become firewood. It scattered into fragments. The momentum wouldn’t stop. The next tree, then the next. The light should have been controlled, yet the only thing she felt was how strangely light the resistance was.

Too light.

There was no sensation of cutting.

By the time she noticed, every tree around her had lost its shape. 

She didn’t even know how many there had been. She looked down at her hands.

Blood was seeping out.

She didn’t remember where she’d cut herself.

There was no pain.

And yet, only the weight in her chest kept growing.

“...Stop.”

A voice.

Right nearby.

And yet far.

When she turned, “someone” was standing there.

No hostility. No weapon raised. Just watching her.

That gaze sparked irritation.

“Don’t look.”

A lower voice than she expected came out.

It didn’t feel like her own.

“If you keep going like that, sooner or later you’ll break yourself.”

A flat tone.

Not a warning. Not a threat.

The words almost made her laugh.

“I’m already broken.”

The moment she said it, her chest turned gritty.

Something tried to push back—No—but she crushed it down.

The light pulsed harder.

“And you’ll still go on?”

Her answer was action.

She closed the distance in one rush.

Light ran.

The other person avoided it.

Avoided it.

That fact stabbed into her chest.

Again.

This time, everything.

Still, it didn’t land.

Redirected.

Slipped aside.

Stopped.

She couldn’t win.

She understood it clearly.

It wasn’t that she lacked power.

It wasn’t skill either.

—It wasn’t reaching.

Something decisive was missing.

“...”

Her breath caught.

Why.

With this much power.

After losing this much.

Something in her chest flipped over.

Anger lost its place to go.

Grief couldn’t take shape.

The next instant, her footing tangled.

Her body pitched forward.

Just before she hit the ground, she was caught.

The other person’s hand.

The touch was painfully real—

And in that moment, her strength drained out.

The light went quiet.

As if it had been a lie—so light.

“...Ah.”

Her voice slipped away.

She couldn’t stand.

She didn’t know why she should.

“By breaking yourself, what did you think you were going to protect?”

The question fell softly.

No answer came.

There was nothing left to protect.

And still, she’d been trying to go on.

How distorted that was—

only now, at last, it was set in front of her.

Lumia didn’t move, staring at the ground.

No tears.

No scream.

Only inside her chest, something began to crumble—late—making a sound.

The sound of breaking was far too quiet.

That it wasn’t that she couldn’t hear it—

only that she hadn’t—

she understood for the first time then.

— Lumi🪄💕