Rewinding Cadence

Volume 1 · Chapter 6Dream of Sunlit Laughter

That night, Cadence Station's corridors were unnervingly still. Ren lay on the cold concrete slab Chu had cleared for him, the tight wraps around his ribs now damp with sweat. Above him, the cracked ceiling leaked a slow, mournful drip—water echoing like distant footsteps. Chu sat nearby, poring over her sketchbook by lantern light, tracing spirals of red ink as if memorizing their every curve.

Ren's eyelids grew heavy. He closed them, fighting the hum of fatigue and the ache in his side. Tomorrow at midnight—he recalled her words—would be the Nexus Ritual. Everything still felt impossible. Yet as his breath evened, the ache in his bones softened. The lantern flickered once, twice, and then he drifted into sleep.

He awoke bathed in sunlight.

It was a world he had almost forgotten. Warm light spilled over him, teasing the edges of a horizon painted in gold and rose. Soft grass cushioned his back, and above him an impossibly blue sky arched without a single crack of static or flicker of ash. He squinted, turning his head. Beside him, Chu lay propped on her elbow, her silver hair wild in the breeze. She laughed—a clear, resonant sound like wind chimes in a gentle storm.

"Got you," she said, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

Ren sat up, heart racing. "Chu?"

She beamed, eyes bright as sunrise. "You remembered."

He ran a hand through his hair, disoriented. "I… I remember this." A warm sense of certainty bloomed in his chest. "I remember being here."

Chu's laughter tinkled again. "Of course you do. This was our first loop—our first day together." She rolled to her feet and extended her hand. "Come on. There's so much to show you."

Below them, a field of wildflowers—crimson, violet, and gold—stretched to the horizon. Mountains framed the distant skyline, their peaks dusted with snow that glittered like stardust. The air smelled of honey and pine. Ren's lungs drank it in as though desperate for breath. It felt… real. More real than anything he'd known in the city of ruin.

Chu twirled on tiptoe, her dress fluttering like a butterfly's wings. "Today's the day we make a promise." She disappeared for a moment behind a clump of birch trees and reappeared holding a delicate silver ring, its band entwined with tiny stars. "You said you'd give me this if I laughed in sunlight."

Ren's throat tightened. He took the ring and slipped it onto her finger. It fit perfectly, as though made for her. She held up her hand, sunlight dancing on the metal. "Promise?"

Ren raised his own hand, palm open. "I promise—no matter what happens, I will find you."

Chu's laughter rang out like a song. She leapt into his arms, spinning him until his world blurred into spirals of color. When she set him down, their foreheads touched, and for a moment, time itself seemed to stretch and sigh.

A sudden tremor coursed through the scene. The grass rippled. The mountains' snowflakes shimmered then vanished. Chu's laughter faltered, replaced by a startled gasp.

They both looked up. The sky had shifted—from bright blue to a bruised, greenish hue. The edges of sunbeams ripped apart, distorting into static. Flowers wilted mid-bloom; petals turned to ash.

Ren reached for Chu's hand. "What—?"

Her smile had gone. In her eyes flickered something darker—fear, sorrow, and an echo of ancient grief. The silver ring on her finger cracked, tiny fissures racing across its surface like lightning.

"You—remembered differently," she whispered, voice trembling. "This—this isn't our first morning. It's our last."

A low roar rolled across the horizon. Leviathan's maw of shadow cracked open the sky, its eyes blazing like dying stars. Chu's knees buckled. Ren caught her before she fell.

"You have to wake up," she said, voice urgent. "Don't forget—promise me you'll wake."

Ren stared at her, heart pounding. "Chu—?"

Her hand closed over his in a fleeting warmth. "Find me again. Even when you forget… find me."

Her form shimmered like a mirage. The world dissolved beneath them—the grass, the flowers, Chu's silver hair—everything flickered and burned away into whiteness.

Ren bolted upright in the tunnel. His body was drenched in sweat; the water's hollow drips sounded distant and muted compared to his racing heartbeat. He pressed a hand to his forehead—dizzy, disoriented, yet electrified by the vividness of the dream.

Chu was beside him instantly, her lantern's glow warm against the cold walls. "You okay?" she asked, voice soft but tense.

Ren stared at her, breathing hard. "I… I dreamed. We were outside—really outside. You laughed… and you wore a ring…" He blinked, as if washing his eyes. "It felt like a memory."

Chu's face softened to something like hope, then slid into sorrow. She rose and handed him a piece of chalk. Without a word, she turned to the wall and wrote in bold strokes:

Day 3 – Dreamed of sunlight. She wore a ring. Promise me… find her again.

Ren watched the chalk lines fade slightly as dust settled. His chest ached with longing and fear. "That… wasn't just a dream, was it?"

Chu knelt beside him, tracing the chalk with a finger. "Fragments. Memory bleeding through the loop." She looked into his eyes. "Our past lives calling."

Ren swallowed, determination rising like dawn. "Then we have proof. We can break the cycle."

Chu's gaze flickered to the map of the ley nexus she'd drawn earlier. "Tomorrow night, at midnight. If we can channel the ley energy, maybe we can—"

A distant chime cut her off—soft, echoing through the tunnel. Ren's blood froze. That chime…

He rose to his feet. "It's time."

Chu stood as well, sliding the lantern into her satchel. "Let's go."

Together they moved through the damp corridor, hearts pounding with anticipation and memory. Above them, the cycle's countdown continued—spiraling ever tighter toward oblivion. But for the first time, Ren carried with him the echo of sunlight, of laughter, and of a promise that death itself could not erase.