Page 75 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

The memory stutters, fragments.

The shadows scream in frustration as crucial details slip away like water through cupped palms. They know this is important, know I need to understand this moment, this woman, this piece of my past that seems to hold so much weight.

But all I can grasp with certainty is her sadness.

The way it rolls off her in waves, mixing with something else -guilt? Regret?The emotion is too complex to name, too tangled with things I can't quite remember.

My heart clenches with an echo of old pain, like muscle memory of a wound I can't recall receiving. Something about this woman, about this moment, about everything happening in this strange valley with its impossible colors - it all matters in ways I can't fully comprehend.

The guards shift around us, their weapons never wavering. They're waiting for something, I realize. This isn't just another test or trial. Planned but also dreaded, like an appointment with destiny no one really wants to keep.

I try to focus harder on the woman's face, desperate to break through whatever mental block keeps her features hidden in shadow. The attempt makes my head pound and the shadows in my mind writhe with increased urgency.

Remember.You have to remember this.

They scream like an eerie chorus desperate to pierce through the barrier that holds me back.

But why?

What about this moment is so crucial?

Why does my heart feel like it's being torn apart by the sight of this stranger's tears?

The autumn breeze picks up, carrying scents that tug at other memories - warm kitchens, gentle hands, soft voices singing lullabies. But those fragments slip away even faster than this one, leaving only impressions of comfort long lost.

I watch a tear track down what's visible of the woman's face, catching light like a diamond before falling. The sight triggers something deep inside, some knowledge that hovers just out of reach.

I know her.

I realize with sudden certainty.

Knew her.

Before.

Before Ravenscroft. Prior to the experiments. Long before they stripped away everything that made me who I was and rebuilt me into what they needed.

But how? Why?

What connection could be so important that my mind would lock it away, protect it beneath layers of forgetting?

The shadows offer no answers, only increasingly desperate attempts to break through whatever barrier keeps this memory incomplete. Their song takes on notes of frustration, of urgency, and maybe even a pitch of fear.

The woman's lips move, and I strain to hear what she's saying. But that part of the memory is silent, as if someone has deliberately removed the sound, leaving only visual fragments of a moment that should mean everything but remains tantalizingly out of reach.

The alarms seem closer now, pulling me back toward consciousness even as I fight to stay in this memory. To uncover its secrets before it slips away completely.

Just a little longer.

I plead with whoever or whatever might be listening.

Just let me see her face.

Let me understand.

But the memory is already fading, colors bleeding away like rain washing away paint. The woman's outline grows less distinct, her presence more like a dream than a recovered truth.

Then, as if the time has run out, I’m turning away, being forced to walk further from this crying woman who seems to hold the key to everything.

---