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30. Another(s) story ✨

'We all have a monster within. The difference is in degree, not in kind.'
Douglas Preston

We dream and then wake up to reality, no?

Once a human dies, nothing is left behind. Not their will, not their life.
No matter the regret or pain they felt, time cannot be reversed and things will not be able to change.
One should always live knowing that their lives will inevitably end when the time comes.
There is no extra time given to us for pardon, only memories of regret and unfulfilled remorse will linger and contaminate one's mind even beyond death.
Dawdling for lost time will only make you lose what little you have left.

Afrit could never gain back the time he had lost. He can only now atone and lament, until he seals his own wounds and moves on from that spot.
The dead would not come bach to life, should not come back to life.
Everyone had only one chance and they should live to treasure it as it was. Because for every soul healed there would be another one lost forever.

Endings were inevitable. Just like death. That was probably why people were so reluctant when it came to these things.
Even so, it wasn't like death erased everything.
And it wasn't as though things were just 'ending'.
Still, was life not inevitably defined by death?

The seemingly endless time he had spend floating in impenetrable darkness, uncertain of his own fate, had given him plenty of time to think.
Time to think about life, death and the choices he had made only to come to the conclusion that there was no peace for him, no redemption.
He would not be able to erase his mistakes from the past, do things differently, so there was no use to... to any of it, really.
But what else was he to do suspended in endless nothingness, everlasting blackness.

Was this death?
Would his existence end with his own insanity?Was he even still 'existing'?
There was no one he could have asked and no one who would have answered.

It had not always been darkness though.
Sometimes he saw glimpses of the world on the other side. Saw whole lives pass by.
It was as fascinating as it was horrifying.
Not only because of how fast time seemed to pass by. That was unsettling but nothing much to worry about, his life was over anyway.
The real problem lay in the lifes themselves.
In case this really was a connection to reality it meant that he was presented with all the secrets, hardships and happiness of living, breathing beings that roamed the earth, ignorant of his presence.
The thought that he was not the only one who had somehow gained this ability and that there might be more beings watching. That they had observed him as well, every last moment of his existence, knew his every secret.

What meaning did the hardships of life have, nicely lined up in front of you, always ending the same way.
The banality of it all.
He actually caught himself getting bored watching them struggling to survive.
He started to lose interest. For a just brief moment he had deemed their hardships meaningless.
But where was the difference between him and them? What meaning did his own life have?

It was hard to stay sane after that and he was sure that he had slipped at least once or thrice.
Some things were better to be left undiscovered. Sometimes it was better not to know.
'The bliss of the ignorant.', was what they said, wasn't it?

The other thing he had stumbled upon was that one took the ability to measure time much to lightly. If day or night. If the stars, the moon or the shadows and the sun. There was always something that enabled you to at least get a vague idea of times passing.
There was nothing like that here in the darkness. So he did not know if he had died years or centuries ago.
There was, simply put, only nothingness. Just another thing that slowly ate away one's sanity.
Could he even still consider himself sane?
Where was that line?

Afrit knew exactly why these old ideas were resurfacing. No matter how calm he had seemed to Cir there was a storm brewing inside of him.
It wasn't to bad that no one had noticed it yet and he marvelled once more how much he had changed.
The shrika probably thought he had simply killed the Amd'y because of anger and they were not completely wrong.
The old him wouldn't have acted so rashly though. It had been a stupid decision but he had needed to vent his sudden wave of emotions somewhere and the stranger had been the most fitting victim.

It had still been stupid. He could have killed him after finding out were he came from after all. Now he knew nothing.
Had it even been the Amd'y who had placed the spell upon Fharan or had it been an unfortunate coincidence?
It was to late to think about that now. Everything that was left for him was to wait.

He stared at the undecorated stone ceiling above his head and listened to the whispers surrounding him. He could even hear Fharan's faint breathing.

How long would it take for him to wake up again?
Afrit mentally cursed. If there was one inconvenience about dying and waking up hundreds of years later then it was knowing that everyone you could have usually turned to for help was now dead.
Well, he was sure the boy would be okay.

He had already contemplated if it was worth a try to leave his new body behind and to completely reconnect with Fharan. He had decided against it.
Afrit was sure the boy would be fine. There was nothing specific on which he could base that belief but his gut feeling was rather reliable. Nothing to worry about...