A Withering voice.

Ⅰ

It is a vivid image of infinite silence in timelessness. All is a vivid feeling, It collapses, dries and resurfaces. It's a vivid feeling that resurfaces as I exist in the corridor of timelessness.

It was a cold stormy night. The rain violently pierced the earth, as a force walked among them. The citizen's nostrils flared as their eyes narrowed at him.

He always rebelled and refused to follow the king's orders. Who did he think he was?

A king's disciple that's what he was.

Wilkin was tall, standing at 187 centimetres, weighing roughly 180 pounds. Brunette strands dangled along his forehead slightly. He had hazel eyes, tan skin the sun dared to touch. Wilkin was a weird one, at least to them. However, he adored himself. He was raised by a very wealthy family at one point. That was until his father developed a gambling addiction.

Chills ran rampant. The streets were filthy, the homeless ran rampant, begging on their knees for food, water and sincerity but it was rarely given because the King's selfishness tainted humility.

Hazel eyes gaze towards the walkway that only one person can step on. Who was that exactly? A king of deception. Osric stood before all of them. Osric was dressed down, flowing attire that consisted of only the king wore. His crown was tilting on his head as he adjusted it with his digits; A smirk followed. Osric was disgusting, downright filthy though he didn't look like it on the outside. He had blonde locks with oceanic eyes that reflect the sea.

Osric was accompanied by six shoulders. They rarely left his side, they were fully armed at all times, never hesitating to attack if anyone who dared lay a hand on their king.

Osric eyes glanced towards Wilkin, emerald then met hazel. The piercing moment of eye contact grew deeper. Wilkin's eyebrows narrowed as he gritted his teeth. The thought of even being looked at by him made him sick to his stomach.

"Oh.. Is it you again?" Osric said, rather coldy without fear. He wasn't used to dealing with someone that wouldn't bow to his feet when he made a scene. Osric hated this person with every fiber being as well.

Wilkin snarled under his breath. "Who else would it be?" He replied back without hesitation. He knew the King had power compared to him. At one point Wilkin's family was rich and Wilkin knew what that felt like for a short period of time though he was never born into power.

Osric raised his hands and clapped. "Looks like we have someone here that thinks he's popular. I don't think so. Tell me why are you still here? You aren't anyone special. Just someone that believes in nonsense,"

"I must be popular, since you made a scene for me, huh?" Wilkin's dumbfounded face surfaced as he responded.

Osric snarled. "That's it. I've told you many times, the future will be better this time. The greenhouse gas won't hurt anyone? I mean after all at some point we all become nothing,"

Wilkin pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a single moment, before opening his mouth once again.
Those foretelling disgusting words that spilled from his mouth lied with truths.

"If you continue doing this the future is going to be in shambles. I can see it and even now sickness and exhaustion will spread," Wilkin implied.

Osric later cut him off. "Get rid of him. I will no longer hear this nonsense that spews from a peasants mouth," With that being said, the guards, shielded in armor, marched towards Wilkin and hoisted him in their arms, dragging him away.

I flailed wildly as I struggled to break free from their grasp, the rotting stench of metal burning his nose. Vision inside of my head, the monstrosity of the present haunts me still.

"TO WASTE WITH HIM!" Osric yelled out, the gaping abyss drawing near without solace.

"I TREMBLE NOT, NOR BLEED MERCY!" I screamed out, my heels bucking at the rotting soil that tainted the rotting soil of lifelessness as I was dragged away.

Infested stench, the horrors that were going to come, dragged to the dungeon led by the King's spawns themselves.

They encircle me, then they jettion me away.

A struggle for millions ensued. A pestilence no mortal man can ever elude. He then dies from his own grief.

By the time the king's disciple ghost reaches the ark. It was already too late. For the eons of waste and despair were now planted.