Tales of Time

A Billion Years

[Mathias T. Midnight]

It was silent.
Not even the soft sounds of the blowing winds could be heard, for the wind no longer existed.
The sun peeked upon the horizon as shy as ever. But no light engulfed the grim lands. For the sun was covered in eternal darkness. Forever dormant in this eternal nightmare.
The man was silent.
Scanning the hills littered with inky splotches of the void, he had an empty expression upon his face.
There was nothing left.
Nothing. For him to miss, nothing for him to care for.
Everything was already gone.
All that was left, every single time, was him.
The silent figure standing tall amidst all of the everlasting destruction.
It was always the same.
All outcomes.
All stories.
All timelines.
They all ended in desolation.

His fate had been set in stone the day he was inducted into becoming a Darkwielder. The day he was assigned with the very feeling of desolation.
It was a no-brainer when his former Master took him under their wing.
And after he himself became the Master, it was all set in stone.

A billion years of life.
A billion years of pain and suffering, trying to make things right.
A billion years of death and slaughter, trying to undo the wrongs.

It never worked.
He tried getting them back, he tried seeing them again.
Transporting himself to another world where everything was normal—which only made things worse from there.
Becoming obsessed with the notion that maybe he could get everything back again. Maybe he could bring everyone back again. Maybe he could finally live a life where everyone was happy again.
It never worked.

Why didn’t he die?
A question that always lingered within his empty head.
It wasn’t at all because he was suicuidal; but he did wonder why he was alone.
Alone to rethink things, alone to remember the days that will never return.
Was this some from of punishment?
Then again, if it was, then what did he do wrong?
What did he ever do wrong?