"Good night."
Mo Ling woke to the sound of that soft, comforting voice.
He was holding the black stone, from which dark flakes continuously drifted off. Other than its similar shape, it bore no resemblance to the pure-white glowing stones.
This memory hadn't lasted very long.
Because of the white light, the shift in perspective didn't feel too abrupt to Mo Ling.
Still, a heavy feeling settled in his heart.
'Why are all these memories like this?'
Mo Ling didn't understand. Of all the memories he had viewed on Hell Island, not a single one was happy. They were either about the passage of time or the sorrow of parting and death.
Every time he woke from a memory, it took him a long time to sort out his emotions.
However, after experiencing several memories, he had grown somewhat accustomed to it.
Besides, this non-human memory seemed to contain a wealth of clues.
'Were those slaves the workers who built Paradise Island?'
