The Beckoning of the Void
The ground was cold and rough against my face, the cold grit biting into my skin like needles. For the moment, my body refuses to move. It's screaming in protest, every breath shallow and sharp, as if even the act of living was too much to ask.
I couldn't remember how long I'd been lying here. Minutes? Hours? It didn't matter. The ache in my ribs, the copper taste of blood in my mouth, the damp chill soaking into my clothes. Noise, blending together into the same dull hum that had followed me for months.
I'd finally made it to Baldur's Gate. Convincing myself it was to be my last hope, my salvation. Instead, hell.
I tried to move, pushing myself up with trembling arms, strength giving out. I collapse back onto the dirt. Pain shot through my ribs; I couldn't stop the groan that escaped my lips. Broken. Or at least cracked. A parting gift from the boots that had found their mark far too many times...
Why did I even bother?
"Stay down," a voice growled from somewhere behind me, cold and amused. I didn't look back.
The crunch of footsteps grew louder, closing in. I braced myself as best I could, though there wasn't much left to brace.
"Look at him," another voice said, sharp and mocking. "What a pathetic little thing."
Pathetic. Yeah, that sounded about right.
The first kick landed square in my side, and I bit down on the scream that bubbled up in my throat. Another kick came, then another, each one sending fresh waves of agony through my battered body.
"Enough," a third voice said, calm and authoritative. "We're done here. Let the rats have him."
The footsteps retreated, laughter trailing off into the distance. Gasping, every breath a new kind of torture, I lay in agony.
My tattered bag lay a few feet away, its contents spilled across the dirt. Books, waterlogged, useless to anyone but me, Papers, smudged with mud and blood, covered in writing no one here could read.
Where is the photo...WHERE?
My stomach twisted in knots and fear. I claw at the ground, dragging myself toward the bag. My hands fumbling through the dirt and rubble as people pass, their looks being ignored. Desperately searching... nothing. It wasn't there.
They'd taken it.
I freeze with my hands still covered in soil. The last piece of my family, gone.
The weight of it hit me all at once. The photo was all I'd had left. The only thing tying me to the world I came from—the world I'd lost. I press my forehead into the ground and grip at the dirt and stones, my knuckles going white, racked by violent sobs across my body.
I don't remember how long I stayed that way. Long enough for the pain to dull into something distant, to be replaced by the thoughts of something else. Long enough to wonder why I was still breathing.
The truth was, I didn't want to be here. I hadn't wanted to be here for months. Not in this city. Not in this world. Not anywhere. I should've stopped a long time ago. I'd thought about it—more times than I could count. Standing on cliffs, staring into rivers and fires. Holding a blade to my wrist, trying to convince myself that death would return me to them.
Every time... I'd found a reason to keep going.
But now?
I pushed myself up again, slower this time, until I was sitting. The cold air biting at my skin, I can barely feel it. I reached for my bag, dragging it into my lap, and scraping together the contents strew about the road. Only a few of my belongings still there, I collect what isn't destroyed.
I stare at them for a long time, my mind blank. Without thinking, I sling the bag over my shoulder. The strap dug into my bruised skin,but I didn't care.
I glanced back toward the city gates. They towered over the landscape, a monument to everything I'd wanted and lost. I thought about going back, about throwing myself at the walls and begging.
For... what?Mercy? A second chance?
No. There was nothing left for me there.
I turn away, my gaze drifting toward the horizon. The road stretched out before me, endless and empty, just like everything else.
I don't know why I started walking. My legs feeling like lead, uneven painful steps. I forced myself to keep going. One step. Then another.
The world didn't care if I lived or died.
Maybe I didn't, either.
The ocean... That's what calls to me... Peace...