The iridescent strings ensnare and entangle the speck, preventing the golden strings from touching it.

  They then pull the speck toward me, and as they do, memories flood my mind in a torrent of vivid visions once more.

  * * *

  My eyes snap open in the freezing depths, a shiver wracking my tiny body, followed by a silent, underwater scream of hunger. Two enormous, alien sea serpents glide into view.

  Mom and Dad. They’re our providers, our protectors.

  I’m not alone. Five other little versions of myself wiggle around in this deep-sea nest. Six siblings in total.

  Time passes, and we grow, slowly but surely, inch by painstaking inch. One day, Dad, the larger of the two, departs the nest. Probably off to hunt for dinner.

  Our peaceful existence is abruptly shattered by two piercing beams of light.

  A small submarine materializes from the murky water.

  The submarine’s lights focus on us, and two metallic claws extend, reaching for us.

  But before they can snatch us up, a massive tail slams into the submarine, sending it reeling.

  Mom unleashes a flurry of tail strikes, thrashing the sub repeatedly. It zips and dodges, weaving erratically up and down, side to side, narrowly avoiding each blow.

  Through the sub’s clear viewport, I spot him—a much younger-looking Dr. Keyser.

  As the submarine continues its frantic evasive maneuvers, a hatch on its underside pops open, and something drops out. A blinding flash of light erupts.

  I’m temporarily blinded. Everything’s a blurry mess for what feels like an eternity.

  When my vision finally clears, our nest is in ruins, a jumbled mess of debris. Only two of us hatchlings remain amidst the wreckage.

  The water around us is now tinged with a strange blue liquid.

  Before we can even process what’s happened, a metal claw clamps down on us.

  It almost yanks us into a glass container when a piercing, high-pitched shriek cuts through the water. A grievously wounded serpent wraps herself around the submarine.

  It’s Mom! She’s not giving up on us.

  Suddenly, a wave of agonizing, numbing pain surges through my body, and everything goes black.

  When I come to, all I see is one of the larger serpents, severed in two, lying lifeless on the seabed. It’s Mom.

  Dad returns, encircling Mom with a low, mournful moan.

  The submarine is gone, leaving me alone in our ruined nest.

  I nudge close to Dad, resting against him. He gently wraps his tail around me.

  After laying Mom to rest on the seafloor, we leave our old home. We relocate to a new spot, much deeper than before.

  Every so often, we return to Mom’s resting place, lingering for a while before leaving again.

  A long, long time passes. I grow much larger—Dad gets bigger too.

  This time, as we leave Mom’s resting place, I see it again. That submarine. I’ll never forget it, floating mockingly on the surface—the thing that shattered our family. The cause of all of Dad’s grief.

  My blood boils. With a roar, I charge, sending the submarine flying into the air. It crashes back down, and a small creature tumbles into the water. Blinded by fury, I clamp my jaws down on it.

  It feels like biting a jagged rock—a sharp pain shoots through my mouth.

  The little pest scrambles towards the surface. I can’t let it escape back inside.

  Thankfully, Dad’s there. He slams the creature back down to the seafloor. I give chase, smashing and crushing everything in my path, but it still manages to wriggle away.

  When I look up, I see Dad swirling in a furious circle, faster and faster, creating a whirlpool that drags the submarine and the creature back into the depths.

  I lunge again and again, trying to tear something off—a limb, a hand, a foot, anything! But nothing comes off, and the creature stabs me repeatedly.

  Before I can retaliate, Dad opens his massive maw and swallows it whole.

  Just when I think it's over, as I prepare to finish off the submarine, the unthinkable happens. A hole bursts open in Dad's side.

  He roars in pain, twisting and thrashing as that small, deceptively fragile creature emerges from his body.

  Impossible!

  As it tries to flee, I bite its leg again, determined to drag it back down. Not again. Not after everything.

  As it raises its blade, I brace for the worst, but Dad intervenes once more, swatting the blade aside. It goes flying off to the side and embeds itself in one of my eyes.

  Dad helps me yank the blade out, then promptly swallows it.

  In a final, desperate attempt, we each grab one of its limbs, hoping to tear it apart. But the little monster is impossibly tough. Nothing we do seems to hurt it.

  Suddenly, I feel a hand reach into my empty eye socket and grip my skull. I thrash and twist, but it's no use. Punches rain down on my skull, one after another.

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  In one excruciatingly painful moment, it all ends. I can no longer feel my body. Everything goes cold again.

  * * *

  When the memory stream ends, the speck of light becomes translucent. It’s as if it’s purged all its color, returning to its most innocent form. Then, it drops silently back into the darkness.

  My vision snaps back to the middle of the sea.

  As if time has stopped, my hair returns to its normal silver color. The smaller serpent remains motionless, still clutched by its empty eye socket in my hand.

  The larger serpent releases me, its massive coils loosening as it hurriedly wraps itself around the smaller one. Protecting its head from any further punches, it cradles the body gently, but it’s too late. Its life has ended.

  Letting my hands loose, the smaller serpent’s lifeless body drifts away. The larger serpent guides the body softly to the sea floor, laying it down with utmost care.

  It looks at the still form in agony, wrapping itself around it and emitting soft, mournful sounds—a lullaby, comforting its child into an eternal sleep.

  The larger serpent then turns its gaze toward me. Its eyes meet mine, filled with unfathomable grief, the stare piercing my chest like a thousand icy daggers.

  I feel its sorrow, raw and all-encompassing. A wave of pure, unadulterated sadness washes over me.

  My thoughts drift back to my own family and loved ones. I can’t even begin to fathom the despair this creature must be feeling now.

  They still think I’m Dr. Keyser because of that blasted submarine; they wanted revenge for their loved ones.

  Regret and dread wash over me, leaving me rooted to the spot. My mind spirals, consumed by thoughts of all the ways this could have played out differently. If only I hadn't… If only…

  If only I knew… If only I hadn’t used that darned submarine. If only I’d tried running. If only I had been the one to bite the dust. It attacked first, though. It wouldn’t let go. It’s not my fault!

  The agonizing thoughts swirl in my mind, and even darker ones surface. Should I…kill it?

  Killing it would reunite it with its family in the afterlife. A slightly different family reunion, but a reunion nonetheless. The serpent lies beside its child, utterly still.

  If I end its miseries, it can enjoy a good afterlife. They’re just animals, after all. Right?

  Just one swift, powerful kick, directly into its skull, would do it. I settle down onto its head.

  As if accepting its fate—or maybe just too depressed to care—it doesn’t move. It looks at me with those lifeless eyes and then closes them.

  Deep down, I’m practically begging for a different outcome. As if the universe hears my silent plea, just as I focus the little Qi I have left and raise my foot above my head, poised to deliver a swift, merciful end, my hair flares up again.

  Strands of it twist and solidify, reforming into the smaller serpent. Its essence has returned, manifesting itself with my hair. It whispers softly beside the larger serpent’s ear.

  The larger serpent’s eyes snap open, a flicker of life returning to its gaze. It murmurs a soft reply before closing them again, this time with a hint of…peace?

  Strands of my hair pierce the larger serpent’s head, and a dark aura envelops it.

  Memories surge into my mind. I see visions of the two serpents meeting—serpent courtship rituals, who knew?—their love, their care for their children, her death, his sorrow, this fight, and finally, his child’s death.

  All memories of his love and family flood into me; what feels like centuries of emotions wash through my mind.

  The serpent’s aura brightens, fading to pure white. His eyes clear, the despair vanishing like morning mist. All his wounds knit themselves closed. And he looks a lot smaller.

  The smaller serpent gently nudges the larger one’s head before dissolving back into strands of hair, returning to their normal silver color once more.

  The deed is done. I’ve absorbed all his memories of his family, it seems. It's like they never existed for him.

  I'm not sure if it's the right thing to do, but it feels like the smaller serpent’s last wish for its father—for him to continue living without the burden of hate and despair.

  The larger serpent glances at the smaller serpent’s body, a flicker of confusion in its eyes, before swimming off into the dark sea.

  Not exactly the happy ending I was hoping for. Guess reviving the dead isn’t one of my hair’s special talents. Though, robbing memories and emotions and healing? That’s apparently on the menu.

  Slowly, I ascend to the surface. As I break through and clamber back onto the submarine, a ray of light pierces the darkness.

  A sun, remarkably like Earth’s, rises over the horizon. The seawater glitters in the sunlight, the wind picks up.

  The distant land and mountains sharpen into view. I almost feel a sense of joy, if I hadn’t just messed with an alien sea serpent’s family and if I weren't practically naked at the moment.

  Every scrap of fabric on my body is shredded, yet my scale-covered skin is without a single scratch. Seriously? Destroying this body is going to be a real pain…

  Running my hand through my already dry hair—not a drop of water stays anywhere on my body—I think about what just happened. Examining my hair, I once again try to control it or light it up, but nothing works.

  It’s only lit up three times: twice when something died right in front of me—that seems to be the trigger.

  The last time, I have no clue what set it off, and the effect was completely different. I didn’t even see the golden sphere then.

  In all cases, though, it seems I’m absorbing memories through my hair, memories from whatever it was attached to.

  I wonder what other nifty skills or abilities are hiding in my character tab…

  After a couple of minutes of flailing around and looking like a complete idiot, I give up. No skill tab, no character sheet, no system…nothing.

  "This is trash isekai," I mutter. "Let me go back to my afterlife!" I yell at the sky, half-hoping some bored deity might actually hear me.

  Of course, nothing replies. My pleas go unanswered. I sigh and sit back down, trying to sense the Qi within me. There's almost nothing left, maybe enough for a breath or two.

  Returning to a meditative state, my senses reach out around me, and the familiar sensation of Qi returns!

  Another small vortex forms around me, focusing into a point in my abdomen. By the time I can't take in any more, the pebble-sized core feels more like a small stone.

  The submarine is surprisingly sturdy. After everything it's been through, it only has a few minor dents.

  After putting on new clothing, I’m back in the driver’s seat. I scan the horizon for the nearest large landmass and point the sub in that direction.

  Half-submerged, I speed toward the land, keeping a sharp lookout for any more aquatic attackers.

  Thankfully, the trip is uneventful, and I spot a red sandy beach by the time the sun is only halfway up the sky.

  The sun definitely seems to be moving slower than back on Earth.

  As I approach the beach, I throttle back and find a secluded spot to beach the sub. After heaving the vessel further onto the sand, I gather all my belongings.

  Cautiously, I make my way inland from the beach. The lush and tropical-looking plants and animals I encounter aren't aggressive, but nothing I recognize.

  They have enormous leaves and dangling fruits that look like they could feed a small army…if they're edible.

  The air is thick with humidity. I hear bird-like calls mixing with low roars echoing around me—some close by, others far off in the distance.

  As I make my way through the thick jungle, my senses, enhanced by Qi, reach out around me.

  This alien world has so many interesting creatures and vegetation.

  Some look very similar to the ones on Earth, like the insects. While others look completely bizarre, like this snake-like creature with wings.

  There is also an interesting mix of odors. Some areas smell foul, like animal droppings, while others have a pleasant, sweet scent.

  Venturing deeper into the jungle, a particularly interesting aroma catches my attention.

  It smells like a blend of spices—very familiar spices, the kind you’d find back on Earth. Cinnamon, cloves…is that cardamom?

  Someone’s cooking…actual, real food?