Aemeath

Guiding Starlance

[Retrieved from the Spacetrek Collective Archive: Startorch Academy - Student Records] [Resonance Ability Assessment Report RA2362-G] Student Name: Aemeath Synchronist Qualification: Affirmative Forte Overview: Tests reveal a Rabelle's Curve with a steady upward trend, converging into a stable oscillatory state. Based on current parameters, the subject is classified as a Natural Resonator. Her Tacet Mark is located in the thoracic region. According to pre-admission personal records and the subject's own account, the individual ▇▇▂▇▋▌▏▉█... Okay, so this report doesn't hold much reference value anymore. It's totally outdated. It's talking about me when I still had a body. Let me set the record straight. At present, I'm already the Exostrider's Synchronist. My Tacet Mark has changed, compared to before. Now it isn't the most... stable. As for my abilities, I can manifest an Exostrider Armament and synchronize with it directly. Translation—Yes, I get to transform! And because I like fighting efficiently, I programmed a custom autopilot feature for the unit. Current simulation results are looking good. Lets me paint the whole battlefield with lightshow-level laser coverage. Oh, and the digital ghost thing lets me slip into any data system. Not sure if that's really part of my Forte or just a perk of my unique Resonance condition... ▇▉▇▇▂▇ "That's odd... why is this student's file corrupted? It's nothing but data errors." "The missing Synchronist? I see... Report it to President Lucilla."

Rabelle's Waveform test sample analysis shows an elliptical oscillation pattern and a stable Time Domain. No abnormal fluctuations were observed. Examination results are determined to be within normal parameters. Conclusion: Resonant Criticality is within normal range. Subject stability remains robust. No history of and no present risk of Overclocking. Rabelle's Curve remains stable. Psychological counseling is currently deemed unnecessary. "Aemeath… has been doing well this academic year. But we do need to watch her psychological baseline closely. If it shifts, therapeutic intervention is a must." "But... she always seems so cheerful." "That's exactly why we watch, not interfere. If this is the life she's chosen for herself, we respect it. We'll just do our part as teachers."

A snowflake landed on Aemeath's nose, a cold, wet tickle. She stared at the lake for a moment, then decided against playing in the water.

A while back, she had painstakingly hauled a few huge stalks of Foxtail Kelp from the water, pretending they were mighty swords. She and the Snowfluff Seals had the best battles. She was the hero, of course, and they were the villains. Granted, these gentle, docile creatures never put up much of a fight, and Aemeath always won. But that one time, she had gone too far. Pieces of kelp ended up scattered all over the cabin, leaving a dreadful mess. When that person came home and saw it, {Male=he;Female=she} just stood in the doorway, silent for a long, long time.

Aemeath got a proper scolding, of course. But afterward, maybe feeling guilty for being too stern, that person soon returned with a stack of game cartridges as both apology and distraction. It worked like a charm. The video games captivated Aemeath and she promptly forgot all about her battles with the seals.

Out of all of the games, her favorite was the Space Fantasy: Katya series. Getting to travel through space and save the universe? Of course! Who wouldn't want to role-play as that unflappable, charismatic, and slightly melancholic hero?

One day, Aemeath pushed the door open to find that person reading on the sofa. She happily squished in beside {Male=him;Female=her} and held up a controller.

"Play with me," Aemeath's whole posture shouted.
That person smiled, booped her nose lightly, and agreed.

Outside, winter stretched on forever. But inside, the fireplace glowed, wrapping the room in warmth and quiet peace.
After playing for a while, Aemeath piped up. "Let's stop here today. Oh! Guess what? I found a secret room on the right side of the map! The password is 9072. You can play Lahai-Roi Blocks there. It's so fun!"

"That's surprising," that person said. "Weren't you in a hurry to finish the quest and save the world just yesterday?"

Aemeath shook her head and laughed. "I was, but not today. And if we finish the quest, the game ends. I want to play with you longer. You gotta take breaks, even when you're saving the world, right? Can't be all work and no play!"

A warm hand settled on her head, gently ruffling her hair. After a brief pause, {Male=he;Female=she} said quietly, "You're right, Aemeath. I'll try."

"Then… let's start now?"

"Alright. Starting now." That person smiled. "Honestly, being here with you already feels like a rest. Come on, let's play Lahai-Roi Blocks. You go first."

The afternoon the Voidmatter Reverse Engineering grades were released, the usual lunchtime cheer Aemeath and her friends usually had was replaced by gloom.

Alara's vibrant red hair seemed to have lost some of its shine as she let out a weak groan: "Ugh... the cafeteria food doesn't even taste good anymore!" Beside her, Nova, diligently working through a bowl of some unidentifiable substance, remarked calmly, "Yes, girl. The scores do sting. But let's be real, the food here was never that great to begin with." Lynn looked utterly crushed by her results, and Celeste gently comforted her. Aemeath, on the other hand, wore a distant, absent-minded expression as she took a sip of her custom-flavored Squeezy Jelly, chatting idly with her fellow Synchronists.

Suddenly, Alara turned to her.

"Aemeath! How come you don't seem bothered at all?"

Aemeath blinked. "Worried about what? ...Oh, the grades, you mean?" She paused, then waved a hand airily. "But everyone's scores were basically the same this time. Professor Sakya is just way too strict. It's not like we're actually that bad. Just relax." She pulled out a tissue and handed it to their group's biggest crybaby. "Here, Lynn! Dry your eyes!"

Celeste handed the tissue over, exchanged a glance with the others, and said softly, "You really don't seem to care much about your future as a Synchronist."

What would Aemeath usually do in moments like this? Probably crack a joke, change the topic, laugh it off. But today was that person's birthday, and thoughts of {Male=him;Female=her} filled her mind. For once, she forgot to hide her feelings from her friends.

"Being a Synchronist... It's just one path," she said evenly. "Someone once told me {Male=he;Female=she} hoped I'd live a happy, carefree life. I think that matters more. My dreams aren't as grand as yours. Isn't it normal for a slacker like me to take it easy?"

"Really?" her friends asked, watching her closely.
Aemeath just smiled back. "Really."

But that wasn't the truth.

Her real dream was far too heavy, too arrogant, too absurd to be spoken aloud in calm, measured words. It grew larger every day, sinking its roots deep into her heart. Yet she refused to acknowledge it, because she had already accepted that promise. If day after day of simple happiness was enough, then she would remain happy like this forever. She would keep her word. Unless...

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted as Alara pinched her cheek hard.
"Ow! What was that for?" Aemeath protested, her words muffled.
"You little liar," her friend grumbled. "Fine, fine. We'll stop asking... Library this afternoon? Group study session?"
Aemeath nodded. "Of course!"

Laughing and jostling with her friends, Aemeath drifted toward the elevator. They were all still young, in no rush to find answers just yet. In this Academy brimming with prodigies, the future stretched out before them, full of endless possibilities.

Aemeath walked up to the mirror, but no reflection appeared.

After her death, the world had fallen out of step. Her Synchronist friends had once debated what made the essence of humanity. Alara said it was love, Nova believed it was memory, Celeste argued that it was the self, and Lynn declared it was faith... "No," Aemeath thought. "Humanity's essence is frequency." Given what she had become, it was the only framework that made sense.

Was it her Resonance with the Exostrider that had altered her state of being? Her physical body had been torn apart in the simulation cockpit. She should be dead. Yet here she was. She no longer bothered thinking about the essence of existence, though for a digital ghost, she had all the time in the world to contemplate such things.

What she understood now was far more important.

When she entered the Exostrider's Reactor Drive hanging in the sky, she saw the message hidden within.

"So that's how it was," she realized. The message had never been read because, from the very beginning, it had been placed where it could not be accessed. Only now, as a Synchronist resonating with the Exostrider, could she see it. The entire underground cavern relied on this "sun" for survival, so of course, the people of Lahai-Roi had never stood a chance to know.

Should she feel happy? The content of the message gave her the chance to realize her grandest vision, but in a way she had never imagined. A bitter, cosmic joke. Yet this was a task only she could accomplish.

"If I can help, I will. I have to."
…Yes. That's how it should be.

Aemeath thought of that person and quietly cheered herself on. She could be braver. More steadfast. She wasn't ready yet, but that was fine. There was still time to prepare. In that sense, fate had already done her a favor. Lost in thought, she found herself softly humming a tune. It was a pity that Fleet Snowfluff wouldn't be able to release her new song. If she had known what tomorrow would bring, she would have finished it.

The mirror did not reflect her face, so Aemeath did not see her own smile. It resembled a streak of crayon dragged sideways, its color ending in a sudden, blunt end.

There was nothing but stillness.

Aemeath turned and saw it.

It resembled an eye, yet she knew it was not. A black hole? Maybe that was the closest human concept. But to the one who resonated with the Exostrider, it was a different order of existence: a "phenomenon" of ceaseless, overflowing occurrence. Whatever it engulfed simply ceased to be. The Spacetrek Collective named it Voidmatter. Let it be called that. Beings of a lower dimension needed a term for it, just as humans needed to call that "eye" Aleph-1.

This was not her first time meeting its so-called "gaze." Such encounters were unavoidable in her repeated journeys between Voidspace and the outside world. Over time, she had learned not to react.

Until not too long ago, its gaze had always affected her. A hollowness. A quiet wish for dissolution. A sense that nothing mattered set against a silent, unanswering universe. These were the aftereffects of staring into Aleph-1 that not even death had freed her from. But now, after exploring the ruins of one of the civilizations it had devoured, she looked into that impossibly vast eye that transcended space and time and heard only her own laughter, thin and verging on hysteria.

"So this is what {Male=he;Female=she} was searching for?"
The laugh that escaped her was brittle.
"This is… the truth?"

How absurd.

Every ideal and vision nurtured since childhood collapsed at once, emptied of all meaning. Aemeath was exhausted. Beneath the fatigue stirred a dull ache, followed closely by something colder.

"What about {Male=him;Female=her}?"
"Did {Male=he;Female=she} know?"

If {Male=he;Female=she} did, Aemeath could not imagine how {Male=he;Female=she} had kept moving forward while carrying this knowledge. And if {Male=he;Female=she} didn't... then this truth could never reach {Male=him;Female=her}. It had to be buried. Shattered. Erased completely. Cold concern settled in her heart, even as it burned with a pure, clarifying rage. For the first time, she understood hatred.

The illusion of the paper plane she had conjured crumpled in her fist. She let the scraps slip from her fingers and watched them drift away, dissolving into the endless void.

Aemeath climbed the stairs at an unhurried pace and returned to the desk.

The dream had chased away any chance of returning to sleep. Not that she really needed sleep anymore. Dreams were little more than memories replayed in a different order. Tomorrow, she and {PlayerName} would stand before the Exostrider. She didn't know what would happen then, only that she wanted to be ready.

Words were meaning given form. So she wanted to leave something behind—something she wished to say to {Male=him;Female=her}, yet still couldn't bring herself to speak aloud.

But where to begin? She could recount everything that happened over the years: the small, forgettable moments, the joys, the losses, the trivial days and the world-shaping events. Or maybe she could complain a little. {Male=He;Female=She} had been gone for so long, and the things she wanted to share had piled up, waiting. And if none of that felt right, she could always just draw this whole road trip. Just like old times.

She typed. She erased. She typed again. In the end, only a single line remained.

"I know that if I look up, that star will always find me."

She stored the message in one of the room's devices, leaving it for a future where it might be discovered, or never noticed at all.

For now, she felt she had nothing more to ask for.

{PlayerName} looked happy. That alone felt like enough. If possible, the truth could stay buried forever. As long as that person was safe and smiling, everything else was something she could smile through.

She could choose to be selfish, or she could choose to be kind. But when it came to family, people always protected what mattered most. Aemeath was no exception. Does the truth even matter, in the end?

All that mattered was that {PlayerName} got to live a happy life.

The thought gave her pause. With a faint smile, she realized it was no different from the promise that had once bound her in the first place.

The room fell into silence. Outside, snow drifted down without a sound, blanketing the world in white as it waited for spring.