Chapter Text
I walk alongside an unfamiliar crowd. Their faces are unobscured, yet blurred, almost like the people you see in dreams, conjured up by the mind's eye. They whisper among each other, theories and speculations pass through like a light breeze.
I see others like myself, we smile.
They call themselves chosen. Oh, what fools. They should know better than to taint the reputation of the nameless.
And yet, we are all being guided by the same song.
The night was dark, darker than usual, without all the street lights and cars passing by and all that light pollution.
A melody makes its way through the empty roads and vast fields and enchants all who stay and listen. An air of mystery is what surrounds it. No title, no artist. An authorless book, a meaningless poem.
Just how it was meant to be.
It was the melody that guided me to the crowd, the melody that remains so mysterious, yet one that I am all too familiar with.
It was the melody that hides right underneath what they see of her. The melody that most who see her never get to hear.
Even I, who had adored her since day one, never knew the girl who could enchant those from all over, confused, yet amazed by the very qualities I, and many others, have been drawn to long ago.
Even I, who had adored her since day one, never knew of the "society" of "chosen ones" hiding under the anonymity of the dark, and the soulless stories that they spin; covering up the real intent, or better yet, the lack thereof.
It wasn't occult, it was never meant to be. In fact, it isn't to be recognized at all.
Yet, to expose the true intent is to go against the intention of the long gone, as the blanket of secrecy would be lifted, reducing the will of the authorless to mere dust.
Oh Uta, should they know what you seek to hide?