What do you when the world as you know it ceases to exist?

That's one of the most excruciating things that can happen to a being.

People die.

People you know and cherish. But no. It's not just them that you grieve for. It's also those that you don't know. The people that you wish you could've saved with your abilities. You grieve for the lives of the infants who never had a chance at life. Or the young lovers, prepared to spend the rest of their lives together. The lives that they thought they were promised. Or of elderly, living their last years in peace, content with their achievements in life, and the only thing on their minds is their young grandchildren in need of being properly spoiled. And it's not only the grief, but the guilt that engulfs your mind, exponentially growing as the body count does on the surface of the planet.

All while you're hidden away, safe, with hundreds of miles distancing you from the surface where your fallen brethren wreak havoc.

And you can listen to your ancient, strict, but kind hearted grandmother explain to you that it is necessary to hide. That later you and your siblings will rise up and defeat the cruel terrorists that currently slaughter the innocent in the masses. That they can only save so many people.

But the words are hollow. And the guilt becomes unbearable.

I ask you this question, though I already know the answer. For I have lived this. And I know the pain. I know that darkness. To never see the sky.

But it is in the darkness that it is possible to see the most miniscule ray of light. For your eyes are always searching, ever hopeful, for a sense of piece in this chaos.