Twisting, twirling, swirling, whirling—falling, falling, falling. Falling? Falling where? Falling to the ground? What ground? There is no ground. There is only nothingness. But falling? Falling!

Where was he? What was this place? Eden? Eden is gone. Burned, burned, gone. Where? Where?! Scared. So scared. Scared and alone. Shivering, shuttering, quivering, quaking. Alone… All alone.

Traveling through the abyss between oblivions, there flew the ember. It all happened so quickly. Before, he was in a comatose-like state. Not dead, not alive. Sleeping? That was the best way to describe it. He was sleeping, and now he was awake. What woke him? The fall.

Why was he falling? Who made him fall? Answers—he wanted answers. He wanted answers for comfort. But there was nothing, no one. Just emptiness.

He felt himself picking up speed as he continued to descend. There was no sure way of telling for there was no point of reference to use in the vast blank canvas of oblivion. And yet, he could feel it. Had there been air around him, it most certainly would have blown against his frail body brutally and mercilessly. And if he had a mouth to open, the sheer force of the air would have collapsed his respiratory system.

Scared. He was so terribly afraid. His shivering caused his light to flicker fiercely in the dark. Please, let me back! he begged. And nothingness replied with nothingness.

Suddenly, he heard something. It was faint but certainly there. Voices!

"...he's dead…"

"I know."

"Why does it happen to everyone but me?"

"That's your burden to bear—your curse."

"...what are we supposed to feel? Are we supposed to cry?"

"Why should we be crying? The tears would have no meaning. Not to him, anyway. He doesn't remember."

"Right… that was by our design."

"..."

"Then, we should laugh, right? Like his friends are now."

"Maybe. He was a clown, afterall. But then again, what difference would our laughter have instead of our tears?"

"...something better to remember him by."

"Mmm…"

Dead? Who's dead? Laugh? I can't laugh. I don't have a mouth. Clown. What is a clown? Someone who makes people laugh? Dead; a clown is dead; people are laughing. But I'm not dead. I'm alive! I'm alive and afraid! Help, help, hel—

"Oh, hello little one. Where did you come from?"

The ember looked up to see eyes that flickered in a haze of sharpened scarlet. White bangs hung over them, but they did little to nothing to conceal its brilliance. It was a man, no, not really. He has the looks of a man, but there was something about him that lacks any resemblance of humanity.

"What do you have there?"

Another voice, another man. His eyes were painted a soft, somber shade of rose. His hair's color palette was the opposite of the former. Black bangs with white hair at the top. His hair was longer, being tied in a ponytail that draped in front of his shoulder. There were visible bags underneath his eyes. His wrists had horrific scar marks across them.

"An ember."

"You mean…?"

"Mhm."

The two stared at the ember. The scarlet-eyed one looked with a calculative eye while the other looked slightly more awake and tentative compared to moments before. The ember was still afraid, though not as severely. It was now anxious from the stares it was getting. Finally, the scarlet-eyed man smiled as he held the ember up to his face.

"Tell me, do you have a name?"

The ember panicked slightly. Name? What's a name? I'm just me. Is that a name? Name name name—

The man chuckled. "No, a name is something that encompasses all that you are. It is not some obscure reference or addressing; not a pronoun like I, he, she, or me. It is who you are, all of who you are. All that could be associated with you, referenced to you, and everyone knows and calls you as such. So, what is your name?"

The ember stayed silent. This man could hear him? But he doesn't have a mouth. How could he have heard him? A name. All that he was. All I am is an ember. Ember, is that my name? No, that's too obscure. Specifics, specifics, what's specific about me?

The other man shrugged. "I think you overloaded his… brain?"

"Alright, if you don't have a name. How about we name you?"

Name. Me? I think I'd like that. I think? Yeah, I would like that.

"Hmm… what about Blaze?"

"That is the most basic name I have ever heard, Cain."

Cain? The man with the ponytail. Cain. Cain. Cane. Like for old people. Cain. I don't like that name. I wouldn't want to be called Cain. Cain isn't a good name.

Cain sulked as he curled himself into a fetal position on the floor, and began quietly sobbing. The other man's and the ember's insults were too much to bear. His tears formed a small puddle around him. A thought sprouted in his mind. Maybe if he cried hard enough, he could make a deep enough puddle to drown himself in! Finally, an end to it all!

"Ah, don't mind my brother. Wouldn't be the first time he's tried to smother himself in his own tears."

"Shut up, Abel! It might work this time!"

Abel. Able? Like, enable? Abel. A bell. Like a ring, a chime. I like that name. Bell. A bell. Ring-a-ding-ding.

"Hmm, how about Shadrach? It means tender."

Tender… I like that name. More than Abel. Shadrach. That's my name!

Abel let out a quiet laugh as the small ember in his hands seemingly bounced with joy. He looked to Cain, who was lying flat on the floor, face smooching it. The tears that he so desperately wanted to asphyxiate him seemingly parted and dispersed from his face. He was completely dry.

"Told you~" Abel chimed to his brother.

"Shut up!"

Shadrach looked around him, no longer afraid or anxious. He looked with wonder and awe at the "world" around him. Nothingness all of a sudden had formed into a palace room. Glass. The walls, the decor, and the table in the center of the room were all made of glass. Or at least, something that resembled glass. They shimmered a blinding white.

Facets. It was all facets. Facets upon facets upon facets that seemingly composed themselves into a house-like structure. A gem of a palace.

"So Shadrach," Abel began. "Tell me, where did you come from?"

.

.

.

Shadrach stirred as he roused himself awake. The sun was still in the sky but was beginning to set. Shadrach stared at the horizon, lost in his thoughts. What a silly dream. Or perhaps 'dream' wasn't the best word. Cain, Abel. Cain, for old people. Abel, a bell. Ring-a-ding-ding.

Bell… Bell… where was Bell? He hadn't returned from earlier.

Shadrach picked himself up. He scanned around the room. Nothing to do, nothing to do. "Hmm," he hummed.

Suddenly, an idea burst forth from his fiery head. If he couldn't find something to do in the room, then he could simply find something that would bring him entertainment elsewhere, and he could bring it back here. Genius, albeit rebellious. Being his own devil's advocate, he pondered the possible and plausible scenarios. He wouldn't take long, and he'd take extra care to not run into anyone.

Solidifying the plan in his mind, he approached the towering locked doorway. Shadrach casually bent over and stuck his head into the small space in between the door and the floor. He struggled for a moment before his head goofily popped out into the adjoining hallway. Soon after, his arms came out with his head, and he dragged the rest of his body out into the hallway. One of the few perks he had as being a flame, flexibility. (Though, stature was something he was still fairly quiet self-conscious about.)

He began tip-toeing down the hall. Though, with his size, his steps would have been as quiet as a pin dropping. But he still took the precaution of trying to be completely noiseless. He was breaking rules, after all.

As he made his way down, Shadrach passed by a closed door. It was one of the many closed doors that he and Bell had passed by before. However, the room which was closed off by the door now had an occupant inside it. Curiosity got the better of Shadrach as he pressed his head against the door. He closed his eyes and allowed himself to focus on the sounds emitting from behind the door. He heard paper shuttling about, the sound of presumably a pen scribbling about, and a shrill high-pitched voice groaning. The sounds became a pattern, continuing on and on in an endless loop.

Shuffle, shamble. Scribble, scrabble. Moan, groan. Repeat.

After a few minutes, the noises stopped. One second, two seconds, three seconds past. Nothing. Shadrach, head still placed softly, firmly on the door waited patiently for any noise. Nothing. Frowning, he loosened the pressure he had applied on his head from the door. Then he heard it.

"So much to do… No Lili! You can't think like that! Master Bell is depending on your planning! Everyone in the expedition is counting on your strategies!"

Expedition. Exploration. Peregrination. He's leaving. Going, going, gone. He's returning. Coming, approaching, returning. Back into the embrace of death. No! Don't go! Not now... Please… Don't leave me alone again...

Everything went silent in Shadrach's mind. All he could hear was the deafening sound of his ears ringing. Ring-a-ding-ding.