Atlas of the World

Chapter 2

The mellow tone of an old violin echoed down the old, rustic corridors of the temple. Sylph's body swayed softly to the tune, his eyes shut as his fingers danced on the strings, in perfect sync with his bow.

It created a song, an expression of emotion. It was the last humanity that Sylph held on to.

He could remember the days when summer still had it's sweet tone. He could remember sitting with his love on the hillside, enjoying a picnic. His lover would lean on his shoulder, his wispy gold hair brushing Sylph's cheek.

"Days like these are perfect to spend with you." He would say, and Sylph couldn't help but smile.

"Let's spend it like our last." Sylph would always say back.

But one day it really was his last.

Sylph's eyes flickered open to a hot blur as tears started to stream.

"Dammit." He grumbles softly, using his free hand to wipe the tears away, but they just kept coming. Sitting down in defeat, he set his violin aside, covering his face and crying.

"What did I do..." He choked on his sobs, the horrid memory hanging over his shoulder like dead weight. The look on Atlas' face made his chest sting with guilt. The wail of terror that made his body shake.

He clung to himself, breathing hard as waves of panic rushed over him, making him cough and stutter.

~<>~<>~

As the sun sunk lower in the sky, Sylph finally picked himself up off the floor.

The cool breeze pushed back his hair as he headed to the well, a telltale sign of winter's arrival. He set his hand on the old mossy bricks that made up the well, sending the bucket down. Shortly it came up, and he cupped some water in his hands, splashing his face to wash the redness away.

"C'mon, gotta get a grip." His low voice hummed, followed by a sigh.

Crack

Sylph perked up, looking around his wood-surrounded home. He hadn't noticed how dark it had gotten.

"Hello? Who's there." He called out, his hand on his hilt.