He gasped for air in the very moment he broke the surface, small drops of water shooting out into the air in an explosion of glittering black pearls in the darkness enclosing him.

In an instant he fell back down into the abyss, only to get back up a bit slower this time, a shallow cough slipping past his bluish purple tainted lips. The cold was making him shiver, but he still took a moment to catch his breath as he with some effort kept him self floating by treading water.

Every muscle in his body ached for the precious gulps of oxygen that were finally getting back into his system with each trembling breath he took.

The throat hurt from swallowing some of the water down the wrong pipe and his head was spinning, from the time he'd forced himself to function without the air needed to do what he had done. But he was alive.

Realising he had to move on if he didn't want to find himself falling victim of the dark abyss once more, he started to slowly motion his aching arms and legs in a slow and forced swim.

The water gently clucked against a distant shore, the sound of his movements sending off echoes across the walls of the dark cave into which he'd entered.

Small shining needle points in the distance above glimmered every now and then, drops of fake starlight in the shape of clear crystals covering the ceiling.

He didn't want to think of the possibility that there were no way out but for the way he had just entered. Instead he steadily pushed himself to get closer to the end of this lake, despite the protesting muscles and the constant aching in his heart, reminding him of what had happened only minutes ago.

No, he didn't want to think about that.

Silence surrounded him, almost compact if it hadn't been for the sounds he made himself as he moved forward through the soft but excruciatingly cold masses of water.

But this silence wasn't welcomed. Instead, it was a painful reminder that things were not as they should be.

Once more he took a deep breath and bit his lip in a desperate try to avert his thoughts from the one thing he seemed to get back to thinking about.

Not yet, not ever did he want to remember that moment.

But he couldn't make it undone.

He couldn't erase the recent happenings from his memory and simply go on without ever looking back again. He wanted to, if just in order to ease the numbing pain of loss screaming out from his innermost centre of feelings, twisting and turning his insides at the very thought of remembering it all.

Again he forced back the whimper and the tears threatening to take him over completely and pushed harder at the water, resulting in getting himself forward a little bit faster, at the cost of his shoulders to scream out as he was pushing the limit of what strength he was able to present at the moment, but he welcomed the pain. The pain made him think about something else for a moment or two, becoming a refuge for his wounded soul as it travelled through his back muscles and twisted its way out through his arms as well.

He was badly wounded, leaving a trail of blood cut water – a smell of death lingering in the very molecules of the matter that was enclosing him into its icy grasp – and sending small shocks of stinging sensations from the open wounds to his brain.

But the wounds went far deeper than the ripped open skin that was painfully exposing his wounded flesh to the water, for a pain much more horrifying to him was growing from within.

Reaching the shore, he needed to keep still - his arms no longer sensed the cold of the water through the spreading numbness – in order to scan his surroundings. By now he was close to unconsciousness from the exhaustion and blood loss, not to mention the icy embrace of the fluid surrounding him. But he struggled to keep his senses as he tried to find a way up the ledge that made out the shore.

Squinting his eyes in a try to see more clearly through the dark, he realised he would have to heave himself up if he was ever going to get out of the water.

He took the deep breath needed to support the action and jumped as well as he was able to, reaching up his hands for the edge hovering above.

In the last second he managed to get a hold of the edge, grimacing as the weight of his body suddenly pulled at his fingers and made the sockets of his shoulders pop at the weight pressing shoulders and upper arms as far apart as it was possible without dislocating, but he didn't lose his grip.

Using a swinging motion of his lower body and trying to summon some aiding strength from every muscle in him, he pulled hard and slowly managed to crawl up over the edge, breathing hard and shaking violently in every limb as he finally could fall down on the cold stone floor for a much longed for relief of pressure on his already worn body.

The darkness and silence lulled him into a feverish calmness he only half-heartedly tried to fight back. He knew there was something he should be remembering, but having the feeling it was something he rather didn't think of, he gave in to the pleasant numbness that was spreading through his muscles and bones as the shivers faded.

Slowly, he closed his stinging eyes and dozed off into the forgetfulness of a dreamless sleep.

---

The light hurt his eyes as soon as he opened them.

He instantly closed them against the harassing brilliance of the world that surrounded him and tried to recollect his thoughts.

The drowsiness of sleep still had him partially in its grip, causing him to wonder where he was and why he was feeling so bad.

Any movement he tried sent a shrill of pain through stiff muscles, even a slight movement of his head gave off a thunder of aches rummaging around inside his scalp, nausea being dangerously close to overwhelming him.

A weak moan escaped his mouth and he could hear someone moving close by.

Something in his memory was ringing a warning bell as the soft sound caught his attention. He was supposed to be alone, wasn't he?

Then, in a matter of seconds, the entire barrier holding back his memory caved in and the recent events flooded him with all the feelings belonging to them.

With a violent jerk he was wide awake and sitting upright, chocked at the insight his memory had brought him. His heart was racing as he tried to blink away the tears clouding his vision, as the brightness of his surroundings once more intruded on his eyes ability to adjust to the light.

Through a mental daze he realised he was placed in a bed, all though he knew very well he'd fallen asleep on the floor of a dark cave. Bandages kept the wounds closed, in some places aided by rough stitching.

The questions instantly started to crowd inside his already confused mind and served to make him even more upset.

Where was he? How had he gotten there? What had happened to him after he fell unconscious? Who had put him there in the bed? Who was it he had heard moving around close by? Why couldn't he see?

The last of these questions faded away on its own as he slowly regained his eyesight after the first blinding moment of awakening.

"You really should consider lying down a little while longer," someone said beside him and he quickly turned to see who had spoken.

The movement made black spots appear in the corners of his view and his head felt like it suddenly had started to spin violently. He was falling backwards from the dizziness, but someone caught him halfway and helped him lie down more gently.

He closed his eyes to still the movements.

"I told you to stay calm," the voice reprimanded him, the hint of empathy taking the edge off the words spoken.

"You really shouldn't have tried what you did," the voice continued slowly. A cool hand was gently put on his forehead and made him defy the nausea building up inside and open his eyes once again.

"I had to," he managed to whisper with a hoarse voice that pushed its way through his throat with the smooth gentleness of a bundle of rough sandpaper.

"Why?" the voice asked in a calm manner, as if the mere thought of defying its advice was so absurd, that it made the person speaking curious as to what reason this young man might have had to do so.

The wounded turned his eyes towards the speaker and thought he vaguely recognised the white face of his company.

"I couldn't breathe," he said slowly, the sandpaper scratching as he did. "The other way… closed off."

"But why were you in the water to begin with? What reason had you to enter the cave?"

But this the wounded man didn't answer. Instead he searched his memory for the face he saw in front of him, trying to figure out why it seemed familiar when the voice did not.

"Do I… know you?" he asked.

"No," the other answered with a slight shaking of the head. "But I know you, brave one. You know of others like me, I'm sure. This is not the first time you have come across one of our temples."

Finally the memory clicked in place as the image of another similar face showed in his mind.

"You're… a monk…Seem..?"

"Yes, I know of Seem. She is the one who first informed me of your person, brave one. My name is not important, but if you must, you can call me Keem. I found you dead to the world in the caves, close to the embrace of eternity. I brought you here to save your life," the monk explained slowly. "Now, please, tell me what has happened to you? You must understand my request as honest and important. If something is awry in the water beneath our temple, the cause of the disturbance must be taken care of."

"It's…taken care of."

The monk wrinkled his forehead in questioning, but remained silent as he waited for the other man to explain himself further.

"That's what… closed the way out," he finally managed to say and produced a deep sigh that brought a wince on his face as it made him cough.

Keem looked at the weak figure of a man lying in the bed, drained of all the strength and life force that the monk had expected to find in such a person, being the hero of not only an entire people, but also the world of life.

So this is the man whom not even the dark makers could crush? A lost soul who can barely move or talk.

But instead of speaking his doubt, the monk just nodded silently at what had been said. He would get a better description once the hero had recovered. What mattered now, as the feared threat apparently was no longer a subject, was that the young man regained his strength.

"You need rest now. I will leave you alone for a while," Keem said in a soft voice and started to move away, when he was stopped by a slight tug at his sleeve.

The monk turned around and looked at the hand holding on to the fabric.

"Did you…find anyone…anyone else?" The man's voice sounded desperate, close to breaking with the emotion that showed clearly in his eyes, seemingly clinging on to a last hope.

Keem truly wished he could answer yes on the question, but knew that it wouldn't be true. As he shook his head he saw this last hope leave the man's face. His strength seemed to falter and the head fell heavily back onto the pillow, a pain of the heart clearly displayed in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," was all that Keem managed to say as comfort for the young man. "I will leave you now, brave one, but I will be back later with some food."

The monk had almost reached the door, when he was stopped once more, this time by the sound of the other's voice.

"What did you say?" Keem asked and turned back around to face the wounded.

"Don't call me that."

"Then, what name do you prefer I call you?"

"My name. Just, call me…by my name."

"As you wish, Jak."

Keem bowed slightly and then finally left the room.

Jak stared up at the ashy white ceiling, not caring what he saw.

His body ached, yes. But he welcomed the feeling of the physical aching and stinging sensations in his skin, muscles and bones. He even wished for it to be even greater than it already was, in order to drown out the other pain harbouring in his heart and midsection.

As the sorrow broke through his efforts to keep it down, the tears started to flow down his face, a whimpering hick-up forcing its way through his throat at the same time as the shivers started over.

Through everything that had happened, he had never been alone.

He had never even imagined it possible to remain alive if the other didn't. Even during the two years they'd been separated by fate, he had kept himself alive merely due to the thought of getting back together again. And despite all that he had been forced to do after that, no matter how much he had hated himself for doing it, he had always been able to count on not having to face those terrors alone.

Until now.

The feeling of emptiness inside his chest told him that even the faint glimmer of hope he had produced had been fake and simply a last try for denial to live a little bit longer within his mind. He was alone for real this time.

There is no coming back from falling off a cliff ending in a bottomless abyss of darkness.

Jak knew this.

But he wanted it to be otherwise.

He wanted it badly and cursed under his breath as his tears flowed freely, soaking the rough fabric of the pillow cover and leaving a taste of bitter salt in his mouth as a few streams found their way to his lips.

But no matter how much he wished for it to be different, the truth was still that his friend was irreversibly gone. And he hadn't saved him.

Had he only been a little faster, and had he only been able to use his light powers… But in order to slow time and fly, he would have had to have light eco within his veins. As it had been, he had not had enough. And the beast fighting him had made it sure that he had not been able to reach his friend in time by simply shoving him off in the other direction, into the water.

But that didn't matter now.

He hadn't saved him.

As he curled up into a trembling lump on the small bed, the brightly sunlit room faded away from Jak's vision as one scene kept repeating itself in front of his eyes.

A scene where he helplessly had to watch as the one person that meant more to him than anything else in the world was sent over the edge, screaming out for Jak, asking for him to save him.

"I can't..." the young man sobbed into his hands.