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pathological-runaway · 5 months ago

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You're standing at the end of a long corridor, dark water dripping from your cape. The storm is raging outside, but it's nice and warm here in the ruins. You thought it was the end, the final stop of your long journey, but the corridor looks like there's something more to it. You take one more step. There is no turning back past this point, the wind whispers softly, do you commit to entering?

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You're standing at the end of a long corridor, dark water dripping from your cape. The storm is raging outside, but it's nice and warm here in the ruins.

You thought it was the end, the final stop of your long journey, but the corridor looks like there's something more to it. You take one more step.

There is no turning back past this point, the wind whispers softly, do you commit to entering?

The wind sounds troubled, preoccupied. It’s eerie, you think, and then shake your head: it can't be the wind talking, winds don't talk. If there's one thing you've learnt in your six days in this world, it's that winds aren't voices, even if they sometimes sound like them. They don't sing, don't speak, don't whisper. They just blow their unsettling melodies as if they were musicians — mute musicians to be precise, musicians with no other voice than that of their instruments.

There were no words in the wind, your tired mind simply made them up. And yet you answer:

“I do.”

And enter.

***

Everything's so bright after the dimly lit corridor. Too bright, even — and too loud. There's a lot to take in: red skies, strong winds, noise of something falling and breaking, dust in your eyes and a lantern to your left.

Return the light of the fallen, the wind murmurs. It's sad, as if it were mourning someone.

Did it lose somebody it cared about?

No, it didn't, you answer your own question, because winds don't have loved ones. They can't love, they can't care. If there's one thing you've learnt in your six days in this world, it's that winds aren't people. They have no heart, no way of caring about those they encounter on their travels — and this is why you can't rely on them in times of need.

You repeat after the wind and wonder what those funny words mean.

You take a step, then another one, and then you're cold again. You're standing ankle-deep in dark water and wishing to run away from it, eyes searching swiftly for any land — or stone — there might be. Moving towards a tiny island with an unlit lantern, you notice something in the water.

As you look at it closely, you realise it's not a statue, or a rock, as you thought before. It's a person. A person in need of help.

Before you're able to understand why you're so sure about it, your hand reaches for the statue and rests on the stone-cold shoulder. Then, there's a funny tickle in your arm, hand, fingers — and the statue is warm, as if you'd woken up the life that was sleeping there, buried deep in stone.

You wonder if the person will spring to life, like spirits do, but nothing happens.

Then, a rock lands right next to you with a loud crash, and you jump to the side, frightened.

***

It takes you a while to figure out that there are more people like this, trapped in their husks. To get the hang of hiding under ledges the moment stones start to fall. To start lighting lanterns before giving away your light — because this is what essentially happens, as you realise to your own horror when golden blood begins dripping from your hand, making you feel dizzy.

You get hit by a few rocks, crawling back to the nearest light source, barely able to think about anything but light, light, light. The place starts making sense, just like any other realm does after a while, and it seems to you that you know what to do next.

Until you don't.

***

You crouch under a semi-collapsed roof while the deadly rain gets more and more heavy.

There are tons of statues everywhere, dozens and dozens of people begging for help, yet here you are, tired and in pain already. Your hair is a mess and your cape is torn, there's dirt everywhere on your face and thoughts in your head are racing.

The crystal you thought was your guide looks even farther away than it did when you first saw it.

You're more lost than you were when you fell into the forest brook, or when you tried to reach the top of the majestic citadel, or when a dark dragon attacked you and you fell and were surrounded by angry crabs.

Or when you were climbing up the pipe. It seemed impossible to you, with the dark dragons and the strong winds, but now you'd rather be there again.

Your energy will surely be depleted before you make it to the closest lantern, let alone the giant crystal.

Return the light of the fallen, the wind says again — or maybe it's just your imagination.

I'm trying, you think, I really am. What am I doing wrong?

The wind remains silent. The rocks scream.

And then it dawns on you.

You're meant to fail. You're meant to never exit this place. There's no destination, no reward — only the end. Your end.

Your purpose has always been to return the light that's been burning inside you since the moment you were born to those who don't have it anymore. So, this is what you're doing now, isn't it? It was never about you. Never about how many things you learnt, or how strong you got, or what you thought about any of this.

You're just a vessel, a vessel filled to the brim with what all these souls have been craving for centuries. It was a miracle you were born, and there's no place for miracles in this world.

But oh, how many beautiful things there are out there, you think as your heart aches and tears start welling up into your eyes. How many beautiful, wonderful places you're never to see again!

You'll miss the lonely deserts and the sunny prairies; you'll miss running through the tall grass and smelling flowers and feeling sunshine on your cheeks; you'll miss listening to birds sing and falling asleep to the crackling of fire as rain quietly hums lullabies; you'll miss racing down the icy slopes and washing your face with cold snow and seeing snowflakes turn into tiny water drops in your hands; you'll miss the way your heart breaks when a manta gets eaten by a dark dragon and the joy so immense it almost makes your chest explode as you fly towards the vault summit, accompanied by the five constellations you've helped restore.

There's so much you'll never ever see again, so much that will be lost forever. So many things you'll never get to know, so many places you'll never visit, so much you won't feel or do because you'll be forever gone.

Oh, how cruel it is to be born into a world you can't have!

Yet, this is how it's supposed to go. You have nothing to reproach yourself — other than being naive.

Now, you have to gather the courage and stand up. You're the only one who can do this. The world needs your help. Its people need your help. You can't fail them.

And you jump out of your little refuge into the storm, because if there's one thing you've learnt in your six days in this world, it's that if you want to succeed in something, you have to look your fears in the eye and be brave.

For the last time ever, you have to be brave.

***

It's not the exhaustion that gets you in the end, it's a rock.

You're making your way — crawling, drowning in dark water, extinguished but not vanquished — to one more statue when the rock rain gets heavier. You miscalculated — or maybe the rain simply didn't care about your calculations — and you have nowhere to hide this time.

I still have enough light to make it, you think.

A rock falls dangerously close to your head but misses.

The next one doesn't.

***

There's suddenly no pain anymore, and you can stand without effort.

And then your vision gets blurry, and you crumble.

It's alright, you say to yourself.

You feel darkness tearing your whole body apart, and this is the last thing you'll ever feel.

***

You’re sitting in the darkness, all alone.

You’re falling.

You’re extinguished, lifeless.

You’re the light itself.

You don’t know anything.

Your knowledge is beyond anyone’s comprehension.

You hit the ground, yet don’t feel the impact.

You’ve been sitting here for so long.

You stand up, empty.

You move towards the light.

You don’t hear the steps approaching, but feel them.

You don’t want to leave.

You don’t want to stay.

You’re being looked at with a blank expression.

You’re numb and can feel nothing.

You’re offered a hand.

Your offer’s accepted.

You’re pulled into a hug.

It’s nice. You’d forgotten hugs existed.

You open your eyes.

You’re you.

How can it even be possible?

“I don’t understand,” you say, looking up and seeing light.

You don’t have to, the wind replies. It sounds happy, triumphant.

There can’t be any winds here, you think, this isn’t a place.

But you still jump into the beam and start flapping your wings.

Because if there’s one thing you’ve learnt in your days in this world, it’s that if you follow the light, you can never get lost.

***

You still don’t understand. Even after the castles, the clouds, the whale and the singing stars, you still don’t understand.

But it doesn’t scare you. Not much, at least.

You bow at the light, your feet in the starry water.

It feels nice here. What is this place?

You take a step, then another one, then one more. There’s something — or someone — in front of you, but it’s so bright you can’t look. You feel warm.

You feel again.

How?

“Where am I?” you ask, continuing to advance towards the light.

Silence follows. No, not really silence — there hasn’t been any silence since you became one person again. There’s a chiming of bells and singing without words somewhere around you.

You’re suddenly intrigued by the singing. Why are there no words? Is it the wind again?

You throw back your head, eyes wide open. You expect to see stars, but you see wings instead.

Wings embroidered with stars, but wings nonetheless.

It’s not like anything you’ve ever seen.

“Who are you?” you know the answer already, but you’re sleepy and your head doesn’t want to think anymore. It must be way past your bedtime.

The reply is a gentle humming, and you yawn.

“You’re nice,” you mumble absent-mindedly as you fall asleep. You feel being pulled into a tight, warm embrace.

You’re about to be reborn, your Mother says.

***

You hear birds chirping somewhere to your left.

You open your eyes and take in your surroundings. The stone is cool and harsh under your hands, but you welcome it with joy.

The real journey starts here, the wind sings quietly. You thought winds couldn’t sing, but here you are, listening to the most beautiful song you’ve ever heard.

You get up and move towards the village entrance, where a friend is waving at you, smiling.

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt in your seven days in this world, it’s that there’s always something new waiting for you.

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