A world of nightmares where dreams are extinguished, and the light is consumed by the dark, is where that boy resided. He lay still in his bed, sweat trickling down his forehead, deep blue eyes tightly shut. A few times he would shift uncomfortably under the safeguard of his covers as if he were fending off some feral beast, only to fall into a deathlike stillness moments later. Many times this repeated, and though it may have looked like he was about to wake up, he didn't. He couldn't.
It was as if Eyce was a lingering spirit stuck in limbo awaiting salvation or damnation. He just aimlessly floated in darkness, his eyes straining to find the absent light within the shadows. There were voices, too; voices foreign to him. Sometimes he'd hear a whisper or even a shout, but the voices were always so small and faint that they were night inaudible.
It drove him insane.
Eyce thought that if it truly was his dream, he should've been able to will the world around him to his liking, create a gate that would lead to some pleasanter realm.
And yet he couldn't. He could do nothing but be caught in whatever force was guiding him through the great emptiness consuming him.
At some point, Eyce found himself falling aimlessly through the abyss, moving faster with each passing moment. All of it felt obscenely real. Too real But he knew better than to confuse illusion with reality. At least he thought he did.
He was approaching what seemed like liquid darkness, the surface bubbling as boiling tar does. He had the urge to scream, to flail his arms about in an attempt to return to a state of levitation, but his lips were tightly pursed and his arms lay motionless at his side. As he neared the foreboding substance, he couldn't help but close his eyes and welcome pain. Instead, he found himself pleasantly surprised.
He immediately stopped falling and simply floated once again. Eyce reopened his eyes, staring in awe and fear at the world below him. It was certainly still encroached in what seemed like an everlasting darkness, but plumes of vibrant magenta, electric blue, and black slowly curled in the air, yielding pale and colorful lights. Floating islands of ashen grey rose from the abyss like skyscrapers, some much smaller or larger than their neighbors. Veins of surging sapphire and amethyst crept along the flat ridges, coiling around like serpents. But what really stood out to Eyce were the faint lights winking at him from below. For one reason or another, he desperately wanted to go towards them like a moth drawn to a flame, in spite of the fact that was most certainly a bad idea. Nonetheless, as if whatever force guiding him could hear his naked thoughts, Eyce slowly descended towards them.
Though the faint lights were obscuring as he neared them, Eyce could make out three figures. They stood at the very edge of the cliff, blanketed in curls of light that seemed to be quickly fading. Eyce finally landed near the group and realized that they were people.
Immediately, his gaze was drawn to the lone girl of the group. He was mesmerized by the dark locks that effortlessly streamed past her shoulders, the bright and sharp violet eyes that were—despite her slightly sagging shoulders and deep-set frown—aflame with hope. And gripped tightly in her hand was a weapon that resembled the shape of a key, to which Eyce blinked disbelievingly at.
His dreams often showed him the strangest and most whimsical of things. Sentient and (rather rude) suicidal fruits, talking, flying tampons, and now this. Giant keys. Now I know I'm dreaming, he thought with a shake of the head. Who in their right mind would carry giant keys around? Why would they need to? They were reasonable questions, yet little did he know how unreasonable they actually were.
A terrifying shriek pierced the air, causing the cliff to shake violently for a quick moment and giving Eyce's heart such a jolt that he fell to the ground. All at once, he could feel many emotions passing through him: deep and boundless fear, its embrace cold and unforgiving; strange and sadistic delight that brought an unpleasant warmth to counteract the cold; despair that made the thought of ever being happy again seem an impossibility; and most strongly of all of them, sadness.
It was all too much. The weight of those lingering feelings kept him pinned to the ground. His head was pounding, and his vision was groggy. He could hear voices. Words that were broken and garbled lost in white noise.
…key can't open…can't go back…meet again…promise…
Don't ever forget.
And as he felt himself slipping away, he desperately etched her details into the forefront of his mind, allowing the maddening whispers lull him into the throes of nothingness:
She'll die.