Demon of the Fold

The world forever folds.  One step lost, one step gained. Ancient kingdoms fall in the endless migration, Compelled to move onwards, Compelled to exploit, Coerced into endless conquest. What room do we have to settle? What time do we have to dream? We are all to be dominated by the will of this world... Cursed to bear witness to change. Death I cannot see, Life I cannot flee. ~~~~~ Syrin awakes in a new world; her mind once again faded, and her body once again degraded. Left feeling like this has happened so many times before, and always with this incessant feeling of loss. No longer can she tell if she yearns for a life long lost or relishes the space between. Is this the first time? The second? How many lives has she lived, and why is everything not lost to her. A peculiarity strikes her, however, something that does not invoke a cold nostalgia... A system?