Awaken: Dying Light

Beyond the Walls

Across the vast expanse, bathed in the golden caress of a distant sunrise, a weathered house stood sentinel. Inside, a small room offered a stark counterpoint to Ender's celestial encounter. Sparsely furnished with a bed, a chair, and a dusty table, the room felt heavy with the weight of illness.

The once-white walls sported a sickly yellow hue, the floor a treacherous dance of splintered wood. In the bed, a figure lay shrouded in a thin blanket, his black hair obscuring his face. Though obscured, prominent cheekbones and pallid skin hinted at a life ravaged by disease.
That wasn't a prison, but the bedroom of a 20-year-old boy, Jayden, locked in a relentless battle against his own body.

A rare form of osteomalacia disease, a cruel twist of fate, had cast a long shadow over his life. Diagnosed at a young age, his bones became brittle as porcelain, each movement a potential fracture. The orphanage, meant for a sanctuary, turned into a breeding ground for bullying. The other children, fueled by a lack of understanding and their own insecurities, saw Jayden's frailty as an invitation for cruelty.

His only solace came from Mary, the woman who took him in and fought for him. With a fierce maternal love, she shielded him from the worst of the world, creating a haven within the harsh walls of the orphanage. But even Mary's love couldn't alter the harsh reality. As he grew older, the worry in her eyes mirrored his own fading hope. He felt a pang of guilt, a burden he couldn't escape. He found solace in reading, devouring fantastical tales of brave heroes and impossible journeys. These stories, filled with adventure and escape, offered a temporary haven from the confines of his room.

As Mary bustled about the room, setting a tray on the table beside his bed, a worn book peeked out from beneath his pillow. It was a well-loved copy of a classic adventure story, its pages worn thin from countless rereads. The fantastical tales of brave heroes and impossible journeys offered a temporary escape from the confines of his room.

"Here you go, dear," Mary said, placing a bowl of steaming broth and a slice of bread on the tray. "You barely ate yesterday."

Jayden winced as he tried to lift himself up, the effort sending a wave of pain through his body. Mary, ever-attendant, helped him sit upright, placing pillows behind his back for support.

"Thanks, Mary," he murmured, taking a cautious sip of the broth. "You shouldn't worry about me so much."

Mary's smile was strained. "It's hard not to worry, Jayden. You're my son."

A lump formed in Jayden's throat. He knew the toll his illness was taking on her, the constant worry etched into her features. "I'm sorry," he whispered, guilt gnawing at him.

Mary reached out and squeezed his hand, her touch warm and comforting. "No apologies needed, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. It's just… unfair."

He nodded, understanding the frustration that mirrored his own. His life, stolen by a cruel twist of fate, felt like a cruel joke. All he ever wanted was a chance to experience the world beyond these four walls, to run and play like other kids.
But reality was a cold slap. He was trapped, a prisoner in his own body. Yet, despite the despair, a flicker of defiance sparked within him. Giving up wasn't an option. He had to find a way to live, even if it was just for Mary.

Taking another sip of the broth, he forced a smile. "Maybe tomorrow will be a better day, right?"

Mary returned his smile, a hint of hope shimmering in her eyes. "Maybe tomorrow the sun will shine a little brighter," she agreed, her voice filled with a quiet strength.

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Back in the void, bathed in an ethereal white light, Ender found himself overwhelmed by the sheer number of Wills gathered around him. Each one shimmered with a different hue, reflecting the essence of their lost worlds – sapphire blues for a watery planet, emerald greens for a forest-covered one. Yet, despite their various colors, a unified desperation resonated across the vast emptiness.

A chorus of voices, each echoing from a different direction, filled the void. "We are with you, Ender." The voices coalesced into a single, booming entity. "You are our last hope."

Ender, still reeling from the revelation of their existence, managed to find his voice. "But… why me? I'm just an old man, broken and weary."

A collective sigh, like the wind rustling through forgotten forests, emanated from the Wills. "You are the culmination," the voice explained. "Throughout your world's history, the spirit of defiance, the will to survive, has been passed down through generations. You embody that spirit, Ender."

Doubt still gnawed at him. "But how? Can I really face these… Darkains? They seem unstoppable."

"Alone, perhaps not," another voice whispered, soft yet filled with an ancient power. It came from a Will radiating a cool sapphire glow, a display to a watery world long gone.
A hush fell over the gathered Wills. Their ethereal forms seemed to shift and pulsate with a shared decision.

"We offer you a choice, Ender," the first voice announced, its tone grave. "A single, extraordinary wish. Use it wisely."

Ender's heart hammered in his chest. A wish? This was not what he'd expected. He envisioned a grand battle, a clash of wills, not a solitary choice. He looked at the Wills, each a beacon of a lost world, their essence shimmering with a desperate plea.

He thought of his own world, the faces of his loved ones, the future hanging in the balance. He clenched his fists, a surge of determination coursing through him.

"Tell me more about this wish," Ender said, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
The Wills seemed to coalesce, their combined knowledge forming a coherent explanation. They spoke of the power they could grant – immense power, the likes of which he could scarcely comprehend.  They spoke of abilities that could alter the very fabric of reality, possibilities that stretched the boundaries of his imagination.

As Ender listened, a seed of hope bloomed in his chest. He had a choice, a chance to fight back, not just for his own world, but for the remnants of a thousand others. But the weight of that responsibility settled upon him like a leaden cloak.

The decision that would shape the fate of countless beings swirled in his mind. The silence in the void stretched on, broken only by the faint hum of residual celestial energy. Finally, with a deep breath, Ender came to his resolve.

"I have chosen my wish," he declared, his voice ringing with newfound determination. The Wills stirred, anticipation crackling in the air.

The first voice boomed. "And what is your wish, Ender of Rion?"

Ender closed his eyes, picturing his world, its vibrant landscapes, the laughter of children playing. He envisioned a future where all worlds could rebuild, free from the threat of the Darkains.

He took another deep breath and spoke, his voice echoing through the void. "My wish…" he began, his words hanging heavy in the air, a promise of a fight yet to come.