Elliot’s POV
“I was chasing my visions, trying to change my future, only to be blinded in the present.”
— Elliot Starfall
Darkness.
A void stripped of all light—a hollow where I drift, bodiless. I float in it, or maybe I fly. It’s hard to tell; my body doesn’t move. It’s still. My thoughts? Not so much.
Silence.
Is this death?
How cruel... to die and not be reunited with Ren. With my blood, my family.
My eyes are open, but I see nothing. No light, no shape, no motion. Just endless darkness.
Is this hell?
It sohow reminds of the mont when I saw the world end back then, when everything was still alright. I try to sigh, but no breath cos. My lips don’t even part. I can’t move them. There’s no air here—just pressure.
Vacuum.
Hell. It must be. Why else wouldn’t I be with Ren? Why would I be here, in this place that devours ti and sense and aning?
My eyes stare into the eternal black pressing in on from all sides. I feel it—its weight, its stillness.
I regret it.
I don’t want to die. Not yet. I’m afraid.
I try to cry, but I can’t. No tears. No heat behind my eyes. My body won’t respond. Even emotion seems hollow.
Empty. I am empty. Words slip from , and thoughts spiral without end. I can’t stop them. I can’t shut anything off.
Hell. This must be what it truly is.
Did I die from blood loss? Did that creature rip my head from my shoulders? I don’t know.
And in the end, it doesn’t matter.
I can’t move. I can’t hear. I can’t feel or taste, or sll.
I exist—but only barely.
And I am afraid.
I keep staring into the black. Waiting. Hoping for sothing—anything—to co.
But nothing does.
Ti passes. Or it doesn’t. Maybe it’s only seconds. Maybe years. It makes no difference here.
Now I fear eternity.
Sothing that is gone—truly gone—can only be felt in the shadow of what it once was. And this? This void teaches that lesson well.
I float.
I float through what feels like forever. No direction. No gravity. No change.
I don’t want to be here.
I want to kill those beasts.
The other bloods.
The ones whose veins are poisoned by corruption. Whose tongues are blue. The Greens, with their twisted limbs and vile grins.
And yet, they live.
While I am here.
I could retch from the mory of them—what they’ve done. What they’ll do. What they did to my kind. To our won. Our children. Our cities.
Our honor.
They’ll slaughter the n. Chain them, break them into workers. Sell the won like at.
But even as I seethe, I know I’m lying to myself.
I did not fight for the people who followed .
Not really.
That was just a side effect. A product of my vengeance.
The truth is... I did it for him.
Ren.
I stare into the blackness for what must be weeks. And sohow, it begins to reflect .
A mirror.
Not of fire. Not of rage. But of emptiness.
No storm. No burning. Just cold, hollow stillness.
I feel nothing.
But I want to.
The inability to scream, to shout, to speak—it drives mad.
How long has it been? Months? Years?
I try to recall Ren’s face. But even that is fading.
I can’t see his eyes anymore. Not the exact shade of blue. Not the way he smiled.
Who had longer hair—him or ?
I don’t know.
And that—that—is the cruelest part.
Not the pain. Not the dark.
The forgetting.
But worse still, is the absence of grief. I don’t even feel sad. Just that sa, endless emptiness.
After a storm, they say, cos calm.
But this calm is like a weight. It presses down. Smothers.
I’ve spent what feels like years thinking of those who surrounded . Wondering if they ant sothing to .
But now...
Now I’ve forgotten most of their nas.
My eyes close.
Or were they already closed?
Was I asleep? Or have I never woken up?
What is real? What isn’t?
I don’t know.
Visions flicker inside my mind. Images. Fast.
Are they mories? Dreams? Or sothing else entirely?
Then—suddenly—light.
Real light. A sharp, burning flash like lightning striking my skull.
But not white.
Red.
It glows—bright and brutal—and I flinch. My eyes slam shut.
But the red seeps through. Covers . Surrounds .
Scarlet.
I lie still. My body refuses to move. I stare into the scarlet haze. Mist—dense and thick—chokes the edges of my vision.
I can’t tell if it’s near or far.
It just is.
Then pain.
A small flare inside my head.
It spreads.
My eyes flicker. My fingers twitch. My breath stutters into life.
I accept it.
I don’t fight it.
I let the pain wash over .
It rises—fast. Explodes in my skull—then fades. My hands go still again.
And now... the red deepens. The black fades.
Visions bloom.
I see too much. Too fast.
Pictures. Emotions. Monts.
They rush at like waves.
A young soul. Shattered. Crying before two heads. His world collapsing just as mine did with Ren.
A noble man—blonde—swinging lifeless from a rope.
A trembling hand in another’s grasp—then left cold and alone.
A pool of blood so wide it drowns an island.
An amber-haired woman running to sobody dear, to the hanged man.
I feel them. Their pain. Their terror. Their numbness.
The boy—anger boiling in his chest, before hopelessness suffocates it.
The hanged man—crushed by guilt.
The trembling man—paralyzed by grief.
The woman—frozen in disbelief.
Then more.
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