Sky full of nothing

Stepping into the building felt oddly surreal. How long had it been? A year? Perhaps a little less. Ever since the accident, she had been forcibly removed from her research, forced to redirect her focus toward different aspects of her goals. Her mother, relentless and unyielding, refused to acknowledge any sign of weakness. While her father urged her to stay away from the laboratories, her mother insisted she return. Show her face. Demonstrate the enduring significance of the Sioux name.

As if Damien could ever forget.

Yet, Amélie couldn't dismiss her mother's plea. Few individuals could instill the fear of Reshiram into someone as her mother could. So, just before the sun dipped below the horizon and people began to leave the building, she entered.

Her eyes remained shut, a shield against the harsh brightness of the place. Navigating the familiar hallways unimpeded, she pressed on. No one dared to stop her; the memory of the last person who had attempted such a feat served as a stark warning. Her high heels echoed against the floor as she followed the guiding path of her Ceruledge, leading her through the Level 2 laboratories.

Amélie didn’t utter a word. She anticipated a silent acknowledgment of her presence, an unspoken recognition. Even if they didn’t notice her, they would undoubtedly notice Xenon.

The world had been enshrouded in darkness for what felt like an eternity, prompting Amélie to occasionally question if Reshiram disagreed with her chosen path. But he didn't. She held onto that certainty. He guided her through the obsidian void in the best way he could, and all she could do was maintain her composure, her head held high, until the light would grace her vision once more.

Her mother’s teachings echoed in her mind, a reminder not to rely solely on sight. To perceive the world without the need for eyesight, to understand the nuances of human interaction without direct visual cues. It allowed her to keep her eyes closed, tuning her senses to the subtlest sounds and movements around her. Every footfall carried a distinctive rhythm, a signature that identified each person's approach.

Damien’s words barely registered, eliciting only a soft, thoughtful hum from her, her expression thoroughly unimpressed. When he continued to comment on her stare, she lifted her chin and raised a single brow. “I'll be sure not to fixate my gaze for too long,” she retorted dryly. The world, she mused, was painfully oblivious.

“If there is a queen, it’s my mother. Now, could we perhaps find a place with less... light?” she inquired, her voice infused with a patience that seemed to have been bestowed upon her by Reshiram himself.