The Vessel
The chains dug cruelly into his wrists and ankles, rubbed raw and unhealing. He was stripped bare—not just of clothing, but of identity, of dignity, of anything that once made him him. If it were the world watching, he might have welcomed it. Might have rejoiced. Because that would mean he wasn’t alone. That he was still seen.
But there was no world here. Only blackness. And the endless, echoing silence of his own mind.
The void was his only companion now. A vast and unfeeling emptiness that devoured all sense of time. He didn’t know how many days—or years—had passed. He couldn’t remember the taste of bread, the warmth of sunlight, the softness of another’s hand. Those things had become foreign concepts. Ghosts he could no longer touch.
It had done this to him. The thing that lurked in the dark.
It tormented him, dancing just out of reach, weaving hope and cruelty together into a noose. Sometimes it showed him glimpses—of the world, of freedom, of before. And just as quickly, it yanked them away. Smiling. Always smiling.
His hatred for it was all that kept his blood from freezing. The only fire left in him. But he had no weapon to raise, no strength to wield one. Even if a sword lay across his lap, he doubted he could lift it. His muscles had forgotten their purpose. His will was brittle.
So he closed his eyes.
And when he opened them again... nothing had changed.
There was no escape. Not from this place. Not from the creature. Not from himself.
He tried to hold on to something—anything. He raked through his memories, searching for the fragments that made him human.
…a door opened in welcome. …a voice that spoke his name with warmth. …the feeling of being safe, without needing to deserve it.
They were fading. He could feel it—how close they were to slipping forever out of reach. And he knew that if he lost them, he would lose himself.
Then— A breath. A break in the dark.
A presence.
Another world, another face. A woman.
He recognized her. Perhaps more prominently than he expected as the implied betrayal stung. Anger and desperation rose within him as his feeble hand reached towards her, his words pleading. "Why are you doing this?" She stared back, offering nothing more than a mirror of his pain.
“I do this for you…”
And then… she was gone. The darkness returned. Colder than before. Sharper. Whatever peace had come with her presence was ripped away.
Perhaps she was real. Perhaps she was just another cruelty conjured by it. Or maybe the madness had finally laid its roots too deep.
He collapsed back into himself. The chains rattled softly, mockingly. He drew his knees to his chest and curled into the smallest shape he could. There was nothing left to offer this endless dark.
Nothing but the tears that traced silent rivers down his hollow cheeks.
@eluviannaa for the brief mention
