Abel showed no emotion as he approached, sealing the entrance behind him. He wore an indifferent yet dour mask over his face. He could feel the depths of whatever he supposed was his soul inside him grow numb. Good. He would give no pardon, no mercy, nor pity. Across time and space, he could feel the death permeating the universe, infecting galaxies, and purging solar systems.
"Brother—! qɹoʇɥǝɹ—! ๒г๏Շђєг—! ཞơɬɧɛཞ—! ꋰꌅꂦꋖꍩꈼꌅ—! B҉r҉o҉t҉h҉e҉r҉—! [̲̅B][̲̅r][̲̅o][̲̅t][̲̅h][̲̅e][̲̅r]—!" the voices cried out once more.
They seemed to surround Abel on every side, not having a discernable point of origin. Each was different and unique. Some were hushed like a whisper, others harsh and coarse like sandpaper, and some abrupt and thunderous. The voices even seemed to vary in age. One sounded like a newborn speaking its first word, while another was a pitiful choke of an elder's last gasp of air. But they all had a sense of joy and jubilation upon seeing Abel.
"We… are not brothers," he declared coldly.
"Brother—! Why? ᨰׁׅhׁׅ֮ᨮׁׅ֮? ?ʎɥM Wԋყ? చհվ? WhY dO yOu HuRt Me So? ✍︎ ?̷ [̲̅?] ≋?≋【!】¡"
Abel instinctively gripped his ears as the booming chorus of a thousand voices molested his eardrums. He could hear the echoes of grief, confusion, and despair ring in his head as he staggered forward. He had to find the star and end it.
As he pressed forward, he began to slowly feel the sickening effects the star brought by its sheer existence. The presence of the cancerous star began to poison Abel. It was like traversing a room utterly tainted and plagued with radiation, with him being forced to reach the source, the core of a nuclear reactor.
With each step, he could feel the blood coursing through his arteries begin to boil. Soon, an excruciating pain surged from his nerves as the blood cells burst. He fell to his knees and immediately began hacking up blood. His bandage eye soon after began to seep and cry out blood, staining and soaking the bandage. Clenching his teeth, he ripped the gauze from his face and gripped his fingers on the floor, forcing himself back up. Catching a glimpse of the small puddle he made, he could see bits and chunks of his organs mixed in with the mud ink that was his blood.
This was his punishment, he thought grimly. This was the sum of his past mistake. He deserved this.
Wiping the blood from his mouth and eye, he summoned every fiber of his being to press forward. A soft chuckle escaped his stained lips. Cain would probably be so jealous to see him like this.
He was mangled from the inside and bleeding profusely—feeling the fires of an ungodly pain course through every nerve. That thought summoned a twisted, masochistic pleasure from within Abel. A smile spread on his lips as he let out a quivering, euphoric exhale.
Oh yes, the things Cain would give to feel like this. With that thought, he pressed on.
He could feel his bones petrifying, his muscles atrophying, and his blood turning into muck and sludge. But he could also feel himself getting closer. Soon it would all be over, the pain, the death—the madness. Fazing in and out of consciousness, Abel could make out a vague silhouette through his blurred, blood-soaked vision. The figure twitched and spazzed violently in all directions. Though, Abel was unsure if it was just his pain-induced imagination.
Feeling the loss of the last bits of his strength, he gave one final pathetic push forward. Abel's weight flung his body toward the star. His withered physique crumbled under his weight, and he collapsed onto the floor. He fell stomach first. He barely even reacted to the impact, not having the energy to do so. The sound he made when he hit the ground was a mixture of fleshy squelching and the cracking of bones. It was as if he were a toy, being recklessly tossed onto the floor by a child who no longer fancied him. The breaths he took were long and raspy like a smoker's.
He lay there, clinging to life, slowly feeling it ebb away with each passing second. But he would not pass, not yet. It wasn't his time.
The figure hovered over Abel. It bent its neck down and stared at him. Through a half-lidded eye, Abel stared back. He wasn't sure what the star was thinking. He didn't have much energy to ponder on it. After a few moments, it bent down and gently flipped Abel on his back. The star gently cradled him in its arms, placing its left hand on the back of his neck and its right on his stomach. How strange. He couldn't feel sick anymore.
Being so close, Abel could see that the star was indeed twitching and flicking violently as if having a stroke. But he did not deny its rather soothing and gentle embrace (not that he could in his state anyway).
"Oh, dear b̶r̶o̶t̶h̶e̶r̶. Why is it that you must 🅗🅤🅡🅣 yourself so?"
Abel tried to speak but could only feel his blood curdling and bubbling in his throat as he tried.
"Do you wish to ƙɨɭɭ me that badly?"
Abel's eyes widened slightly.
"So 𝙗𝙖𝙙𝙡𝙮 you would nearly kill 𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏 to get to me?"
Abel nodded.
The star did not react. Its touch remained all the same.
The two stayed like this for a time. Only the sound of Abel's hoarse and ragged breathing and the star's light humming and vibrating.
"I have to kill you," Abel weakly whispered. "...you are an abomination."
"ʏɛֆ, yes I am."
There was no emotion behind the star's voice. Its feelings did not change what it was.
"You do not belong in this universe."
"ꋊꄲ, no I do not."
As the star spoke, its voice seemingly became less sporadic and distorted. All the different tones slowly became unified in its throat. But it still jumbled certain words, almost as if glitching out for a moment before quickly correcting itself.
"But neither do 𝕪σ𝕌. Neither does ΛПYƬΉIПG. This υ𝔫𝓲ѶᵉŘŞᵉ should have never existed, no?"
Abel said nothing, knowing full well it wasn't wrong.
"The one called ƧᄃӨЯП burned away everything. Were it not for him, ŇσŇＥof this would have happened."
"You are not doing this to spite him though, are you?"
The star shook its head.
"𝙽𝚘. I am doing this because this universe should have never come to 𝘧𝘳𝘶𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 in the ꊰ꒐ꋪꇙ꓄ place. It is all an 𝚊̷𝚏̷𝚏̷𝚛̷𝚘̷𝚗̷𝚝̷ to the natural order, an ₐ𝚋ₒᗰᵢ𝚗ₐ𝚝ᵢₒ𝚗."
Abel closed his eyes, choosing to let the star say its thoughts. Thoughts it had been forced to handle alone for eons.
"As for you and my dear ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ and sɹǝʇsıs, you all wiped the ʂӀąէҽ, ωαѕнє∂ your hands, and made this ⒶтŘØcⓘтｙ. That is ℕ𝕆𝐭 right. That is 𝐍ό𝓽 natural. It is ⓃⓞＴ fair, it is ᑎOT honest."
Of course, it wasn't. Since when was anything built upon the principalities of fairness, honesty, and justice? It wasn't fair when everything was torching away. So why, in turn, would it be fair to make this universe from the ashen remnants?
"I have whispered the 𝚝𝚛𝚞𝚝𝚑 to the ears of reality."
Abel's eyes slowly shot open and widened. So that was the root of it all. Derealization, agoraphobia, nihilism—all on a universal scale.
"It is beginning to understand that it should have never existed. And now, ռǟȶʊʀɛ is properly taking its course. It is 𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖗𝖊𝖈𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 itself."
The star gently caressed Abel's cheek.
"𝒯𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎, I did not want it to end this way brother. You may think me 🄼🄰🄳. I have been ₥₳Đ. This is not it. Perhaps, for the first time since I was brought into this universe, I have become 𝘴𝘢𝘯𝘦."
If a tear could fall from its eyes, it would have. But alas, stars were not created to cry. Instead, it held him gently and tightly as if Abel would crumble to dust at any moment. It would not be outside the realm of possibility. His soft cheek could very well be the last thing the star ever felt before reality suddenly ceased. It felt something in its chest. But as it tried to focus on it, it vanished into the void of its being. How odd. What could that have been, that fleeting feeling?
Could it have been… fear?
Abel let out a quiet sigh. Everything the star had said wasn't wrong. This universe was created from a tainted reality. Its very conception was founded on a flaw. But despite that, Abel would save it.
For all its faults—for its imperfections, shortcomings, inadequacies, and blemishes, it was far too beautiful a thing to let die and fade into nothingness. It was filled with such wonder, beauty, chaos, and madness. The perfect coalescence of contradictions and paradoxes, of certainty and normalcy. He had to save it.
Armed with only his words, Abel placed a hand on the star's and did the only thing he could. With a soft smile, he asked a question.
"...Can I tell you a story?"