Today, tomorrow, or perhaps yesterday, Delta has decided to sing a nursery rhyme of her own creation to cheer herself up. Singing once every million light years allows the supernatural entity to encourage herself, and above all, to express herself in this bizarre nguage that reminds her of a time long past.

  But it's not just the nguage that gives her a hint of nostalgia. Occasionally, in the vacuum of space, Delta comes across another Delta. These extremely rare events are no longer a surprise to her. All the Deltas she has met are not different versions of herself. They are simply reminiscences of the past or the future. At certain points in space, time merges, creating this kind of strange paradox whose reality can be called into question.

  Today, tomorrow, or perhaps yesterday, Delta encounters an earlier version of herself. She knows this because the Delta on her right, walking in the opposite direction to her, has much shorter hair than she does.

  But that's not all. There's something else. At the very beginning of her journey, Delta was crying. She cried non-stop. Her sobs were so loud that she is convinced that all the gaxies in all the universes must have heard her. In her eternal torment, she could only remember one word.

  "Ay...Ay...Ron..."

  Our Delta of the present understands nothing of what her self of the past is mumbling. She simply decided to ignore it and move on until she couldn't hear it any more. If that word made her sad, then it certainly doesn't mean anything to her now.

  Delta can only do one thing: keep moving forward.

  A Y ? R O N

  The creature looks like nothing. You'd think it was a machine, since its body seems to be made partly of pipes and all sorts of metal, and almost the whole of its body looks like an assembly of lots of materials, like a hastily built house in a shanty town.

  But there is also flesh in the throes of necrosis, completely bck, almost pulsing with movement. On his torso, one end of his colrbone doesn't seem to be covered in metal alloy. Its chin, too, is devoid of metal. It has no eyes. Only a hole in its forehead lets out a brilliant red light.

  The creature swings the corpse of the man whose stomach it has pierced at one of the policemen, completely uninterested in what is in front of its eyes, before locking its "gaze" on Ay?ron. For the first time in centuries, the machine is about to speak. Ay?ron feels his horse getting restless and decides to dismount. Abigail did the same.

  Immediately, the horses bolt as fast as they can - they're scared. The humans too. There's something deeply disturbing about this. The macabre silence that reigns does not bode well and everyone is waiting to see who will be the first to act. The monstrosity raises its arm, painted with the blood of its first victim, to point at Ay?ron.

  "You. You're an Oracle. Why don't you use your power? What are you doing here? Delta keeps moving."

  Its voice is hoarse. Far from being that of a robot, it's that of a human. A dark voice, so deep that it echoes in the hearts of everyone present. If the creature, or the man, has piqued the Prince's curiosity, Abigail has no desire to argue and orders him to come down.

  "Come down! Come down! Come down at once!"

  She says, pointing her sword at the thing, her face twisted in determination. Abigail is no different from Noel. Her impulsive nature makes her a fearsome warrior. But in a situation like this, the Anomaly thinks it best to avoid confrontation if at all possible. The red light on the machine's forehead begins to glow intensely. And with all his might, Ay?ron screams.

  "Abigail!"

  Thrown to the ground, far from her original position by some kind of supernatural attraction, Abigail swallows and holds her sword firmly in her right hand, realising that her life has just been saved. Where she had been before, the ground burns and melts under the red beam caused by the machine, which decides to burst out ughing.

  "Telekinesis?! Is that it? That's all you can do? And you're bleeding from the nose as well? Is that it? What's the matter, then? How many Eras have I been inactive? You are an Oracle. You should be able to erase my existence from ████ if you feel like it."

  There's a word. A word that no one could understand, as if it had been erased from reality. Ay?ron and everyone else could only hear a kind of incomprehensible cacophony.

  Buzzing sounds echoed inside the Prince's skull. He has a headache. A terrible one. He feels as if huge centipedes are slowly devouring his brain. Losing his bance, he drops his sword, holds his head and hopes with all his heart that it will stop. He can't hear what she's saying, the world around him is a blur, but he can easily guess that the young Frost failure must be worried sick about his condition. He finds that curious. He's always found Abigail's reactions curious. But now, more than ever before, Ay?ron finds the reaction of the woman he has always protected curious. He falls on his back despite Abigail's efforts to help him stand. His brain is boiling. The pain makes him want to implode his skull from the inside to make it stop.

  A shuttle.

  An Oracle.

  Delta? Ay?ron wonders who Delta could be. This mysterious and strange name haunts his thoughts. Slowly, he grasps her face with both hands. And the pain becomes secondary.

  Delta?

  Ay?ron hates her.

  Bck anger clouds his eyes when he hears the word "Delta".

  A hatred so strong that the pain he suffered is nothing more than fuel for his growing resentment.

  A hatred so strong that the suffering he was the victim of is now nothing more than fuel for his growing resentment.

  Abigail is surprised and gently stops holding him. This is the very first time in her life that she has seen her prince in such a state. Come to think of it, has he ever been angry?

  Meanwhile, the mysterious being has finally descended. He walks on air in an ordinary, casual way. He defies the ws of gravity so easily. Is it an anomaly? No. The police know that this thing is beyond their knowledge. When it nds on the ground, the four policemen immediately decide to attack it with their swords. Somewhere deep in their hearts, these men knew they didn't stand a chance. But to retreat when their Prince was in such a state would be a crime of lèse-majesté. No matter how much hope or determination these men carried within them, in the end, perhaps they should have listened to their instincts.

  In an instant, the near-human machine burnt them all. To such an extent that all that remained of them was a pile of melted flesh dotted with small bones that had escaped the red light.

  Abigail picks up Ay?ron's sword, she's not afraid. She has no time to be shocked. She holds the sword in both hands to stop it shaking, her face twisted even more than usual because she is so afraid.

  Fear of losing Ay?ron.

  Fear of losing to the machine.

  Abigail wants to protect her Prince.

  The creature is walking towards them.

  Will it kill them? What are its intentions? Should they attack it head-on? From the side? The Frost's daughter thinks hard. She just doesn't know.

  She doesn't know what to do.

  She has always relied on Ay?ron.

  Abigail is strong, no one can deny that. But she's a sort of underling. Making decisions in this kind of situation, acting on her own, are pointless things since 'she only had to defer to Ay?ron.

  "Ay?ron... Ay?ron, stand up! screams the young girl at the top of her voice.

  - Ay?ron? Is it really him? This kid... This kid is Ay?ron? The machine is unsettled. It stops moving towards them.

  - Kid-"

  No time to think. Abigail immediately took advantage of this narrow window of opportunity to unch herself at her target with all her might, aiming to pierce the machine's chin, one of the few pces where it wasn't made of metal. She knows full well that she has no right to make a mistake. Her enemy is neither a rebel with a pitchfork nor a bandit with a dagger. She holds her breath, concentrates, eases her breathing, leans forward on her left leg to propel herself towards her adversary.

  There is nothing in front of her but her opponent.

  She can think of nothing but her goal: he must die.

  He absolutely must die. In her momentum, the swordswoman finally decided to drop her sword as a decoy and draw a dagger straight from her knickers. Abigail had the impression that time was slowing down, her speed of execution increased tenfold thanks to the adrenaline. Her bde is about to pierce his chin. She's going to kill him! She's certain of it! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!

  He has to be dead, the teenager screams in her heart.

  Unfortunately for her, that was not to be.

  Abigail doesn't have time to understand. She has no time for anything. Her vision gradually turned red and suddenly she could no longer feel the weight of her body. Under her defeated and desperate gaze, her fingers melt and so does her dagger. "Why is it taking so long?" Abigail asks herself. It hurts so much. It's so painful. It's unbearable. Where is Ay?ron? Why isn't he with her? Why is she fighting alone? No, she's not fighting. She is being sughtered.

  She doesn't want to die now. She feels so unlucky, she finds it horribly unfair.

  Her short life has been a disappointment from start to finish.

  In the very st split second, Abigail seems to be recalling certain parts of her life.

  A B I G A I L

  I'm not the kind of girl who says yes to everything.

  In fact, I HATE saying yes.

  Yes. I'm a bit of a rebel when it comes down to it.

  Well, let's just say I've never really had a choice. My face doesn't look like anything.

  I've always been rejected because my eyes don't line up. I had no choice. I had to be a rebel. I had to stand up to them.

  But, despite everything, I never stopped asking myself:

  Why?

  Why did my eyes have to look like that? Why did I have to look like a monster? These questions have always haunted me. No one ever wanted to answer them.

  Nobody, that is.

  So I decided to stop asking myself them.

  Then I turned 14.

  I committed my first murder.

  It was on the battlefield.

  I only had a spear and my horse had been killed.

  I came across an enemy soldier, he must have been my age, he was going to kill one of ours. I pierced his throat with my spear and he died slowly, choking on his own blood. I didn't linger. I stared at his corpse for exactly three seconds before continuing to kill enemy soldiers.

  In my very first battle, I killed sixty-six enemies. And an ally too, I didn't mean to.

  I liked it.

  I liked taking lives.

  I liked being congratuted for killing lots of people.

  I looked like a monster.

  So I might as well become one.

  A Y ? R O N

  The shrill cries stopped and Ay?ron immediately understood what was happening.

  Abigail is dead. Turned into a melted, bloody pile of meat.

  The machine retreats, not wanting to be soiled by the body of the hated Frost.

  Avoiding what can best be described as Abigail's corpse, Ay?ron's enemy moves towards it before crouching down to look the Anomaly in the eye.

  The Prince, still on the ground on his knees, does not look angry. He looks as if he's frozen. He doesn't look sad either. Maybe that's his way of trying to accept the terrible reality. Around his white eyes, sordid bck veins stand out in a repulsive way.

  "It's your fault she's dead."

  He finally stands up. The Prince follows him with his eyes.

  "Ay?ron. The humanoid machine looks up at the sky. Everything that is happening now is your fault. Everything that has happened is your fault too. Abigail is just another tiny number among all the people who have fallen victim to your egocentricity. Delta warned you. So did Alpha. You're wondering what I am? Let's just say you created me. There are thousands like me. Underwater, underground.

  - That's a lie. It was you who killed Abigail.

  - Knowing you, you must already be making pns. The machine turns back to Ay?ron. And they will surely succeed. You'll probably manage to kill me and enjoy your miserable life as a Prince again. But then what? What about Delta? When is this all going to stop exactly?"

  What is he talking about? Ay?ron can't understand what he's saying. He has no idea what he's talking about. Completely lost, the teenager can do nothing but try to destroy him. He tries in vain, with all his might, to make his enemy explode with his thoughts, the blood running from his nose continuously. It turns out that his powers have absolutely no effect.

  "It's useless."

  With a casual tone, the monstrous being leaves. Leaving behind a white-eyed boy bathed in humiliation, he doesn't look back, disappearing as if he'd never been there. Yet his traces will remain with him forever. The heaps of decomposing flesh of the policemen. Abigail's remains. He got to his feet, rising with difficulty with the help of his sword, using it as if it were a walking stick.

  His head still hurts. He could ment his fate, get bogged down in indescribable hatred and sadness, rack his brains until he's out of breath in the hope of grasping the meaning of Abigail's killer's words. But he won't. He's not that kind of person.

  Ay?ron clears his mind. He sheathes his sword and stands on his two legs, regaining the bance he lost earlier.

  On his face, nothingness. More than a deliberate choice to protect himself from trauma, this emotional emptiness is an integral part of his identity. It is his essence. Ay?ron took a few steps forward before crouching down to touch the still-burning remains of Abiga?l's body with the index finger of her right hand.

  "Abigail?"

  Several guards, alerted by local residents, streamed into the square, first concerned by the Prince's situation and then horrified by the corpses the creature had left behind.

  Ay?ron signals that he is all right, that there are more important things to do. It's chaos here, the guards panicking, the miresses being escorted here to tend to the corpses. The crowd is back.

  It's chaos here. The Fourth Prince just stands there, staring into space, feeling so far away from reality. It's a feeling he's experienced thousands of times before.

  Ay?ron sees the world in white.

  The ndscape turns white.

  The world around him disappears.

  A B I G A I L

  There's nothing here. Just white. White as far as the eye can see. This abstract, phantasmagorical world is neither purgatory nor heaven. And, for Abigail, it doesn't seem like hell.

  It's something else. This pce is a kind of pce where things are created and erased. Is this where God lives? Abigail asks herself a lot of questions. She notices that she has no clothes. That she is naked. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother her and she's not ashamed of it. That's probably how she was created, after all. So it's only natural that she should be like this here.

  Curious, the young girl noticed something strange. She looked down at both her hands and found that all her rings were still there. She wonders if she was created with them. She wonders if it's possible.

  Feeling the most intense warmth in her heart, Abigail turned around, smiling and teary-eyed. Facing her was the one who had always protected her.

  "Ay?ron..."

  Unlike her, the boy was still wearing his bck tunic and carrying his sword. Unlike her, he does not smile or cry.

  "Are you... Are you here to save me...?"

  Ay?ron nods, aware that he is answering a rhetorical question that the Frost's daughter already knew the answer to.

  Nothing can be saved here. All the things that return here are doomed to disappear forever. To be repced. As if to dey her own demise, Abigail continues to speak.

  "I lied, Ay?ron... My hair are not white. It's actually bck. I'm sorry..."

  The Anomaly already knew this but nodded all the same, showing her that in the end, it wasn't as bad as all that.

  "Maybe deep down I knew that's how you prefer them. When they're white. Hehehe... Do you remember the day your dad was looking for you? We hid in the manor. We were little. Later, we used the same hiding pce to kill my brothers..."

  Ay?ron, for the very first time, spoke words, looking impassive.

  "Abigail, you should stop bming yourself. Whatever happens, they had to die. It wasn't your fault. I was able to slit Ener's throat because I ordered Senna to spy on him and understand his power. And I... I burnt Eden."

  There is silence. Do they have anything else to say to each other? Putting off the inevitable is just a waste of time. But, in the end, that's the way it's always been for Ay?ron. Even so, he will never get used to this kind of goodbye.

  Finally, Abigail breaks down.

  "Ay?ron...I don't want to disappear!

  - I'm sorry, I... I should have..."

  Before she could say anything else, the process was already underway.

  Abigail could feel it.

  She wasn't going to die.

  She was going to disappear.

  Her name, her existence, her traces in the memory of others.

  All these things will disappear.

  Her body slowly disintegrated into tiny white particles under Ay?ron's horrible impassivity. And yet she was convinced that he loved her.

  With only his face left, she manages to hear Ay?ron's st words.

  "I love you, Abigail."

  For the very first time, a smile twisted by regret takes shape on her face.

  All along, in this pce, he could see her.

  A Y ? R O N

  When he woke up, the Prince immediately recognised the ceiling of his room on the fourth floor of the capital castle. He felt as if he had just woken up from a very long dream. He remembers yesterday's events and his battle with a frightening enemy. At his bedside is Noel.

  "Oh, you're awake? Seriously, I've been worried sick...

  - Sorry about that...

  - It's all right, the main thing is that you're fine. But don't go out on patrol on your own again, it'll suck."

  Ay?ron's heart starts to beat a little faster when he hears the wooden door of his room creak. He sits up slowly, his eyes wrapped in bandages to hide the repulsive bck veins running through the whites of his eyes.

  The windows are open and the opening of the door causes draughts that send the curtains of his bed and the windows tumbling.

  A young girl.

  She enters the room with a smile on her face. She looks relieved.

  She has white hair and blue eyes.

  She has a facial handicap.

  Her eyes are normally aligned.

  But her lips are abnormally rge, reaching all the way to her ears. So as not to appear too frightening, it was decided a long time ago that her mouth should be completely sewn shut.

  Her name is Ga?lle.

  Ga?lle is mute.

  Ay?ron feels better.

  His pulse is slowing.

  After all, although they have countless faults, Ga?lle and No?l are his only dear and tender friends.