His Fading Humanity

Prologue

Kyros loved only two things on this earth.

The color gray and the ocean.

The sky was splattered in the color. The clouds above were lavished in darker, various shades of gray and they painted their kingdom like a canvas. They wove together a promise of rain that resembled a heavy blanket in the sky and seemed to stand still, looking down at him to witness his end.

The grass was dull, gray, and dead around him. The rocks which he lay on were dark and jagged and ran down the side of the cliff he stood on, overlooking the ocean. The rocks farther below stood strong against the waves which slowly eroded them away until they cracked and finally broke.

But there was another reason why he loved the stormy ocean which also bore his favorite color.

He couldn't hear his screams of anguish over the roaring waves that seemed to shake the earth each time they met with the rocky shores below. It was a place where he couldn't hear the heartbeat that told him he was indeed alive.

It was a place that screamed louder than his thoughts which never left him. 

The thoughts of regret. The thoughts of suicide.

He fell to his knees when weakness overtook his body. When the weight of his transgressions became too much to bear. Too long he had run from his problems and his emotions, too long he had been a refugee from himself.

His bones cried out and his muscles ached with painful sobs that wracked his body. Leaning forwards on his hands, he let his forehead rest on the ground. Dirt and mud caked his skin but that was the least of his worries.

He dug his fingers into the dirt beneath him, the rough rocks and pebbles tore at his hands and found their way under his fingernails. Tears streaked down his face in the same way blood streaked down his arms and wrists.

"Traitors don't deserve anything besides to be forgotten. Abandoned in the same way they chose to abandon their morals." He cried out to the wind.

And that's what he was.

A traitor.

A traitor to his family. His pack.

Oblivion awaits you. The wind seemed to whisper to him.

His body shook with despair and for a few moments, he didn't move. He couldn't. Not when he was in such a desperate moment.

Better off dead. Better off dead. A mantra seemed to chant over and over again.

And when he found the courage to lift his head from the ground, he did so slowly. He blinked away the tears that blurred his vision so that he could see the ocean below him vividly. The darkness of the ocean reflected the color of the sky. Dark. Depressing. Beautiful. Haunting. Enticing. 

He could taste the saltiness of the stormy sea, he could hear their mighty power as they crashed against one another life a great storm. Such a sporadic, chaotic lover the sea was.

He couldn't wait to kiss it. To feel nothing under the waves as they carried him away. 

His heartbeat seemed to drum slowly. Low and rhythmic.

Rhythmic like the waves lapping and colliding with the rocky shore. Beckoning him to the frigid depths of the sea. Calling to him, singing softly to him like an enchanting siren with evil intentions flashing behind her eyes.

It wouldn't be long before he would collide with the earth, hitting the bottom of his world before erupting into flames, reduced to nothing more than ashes. Gray ashes that would diminish into dust and be swept away in the wind.

Forgotten and alone.

Like he had been almost all his life.

Better off dead.

But he had done it to himself. It was his fault he was called the human in ruins. He was a haunting, beautiful masterpiece. But he was a broken masterpiece, chipped around the edges and cracked all the way through.

He was the beast that destroyed not only himself but others as well. He was spiraling towards his doom, falling through the sky like a dark angel stripped of his wings.

He stood, wiping the tears from his face. 

And he stepped closer to the edge. The wind swept back his curly, dark hair. It blew against his skin, salty and chilling. The mist of the ocean coated his body in a sheen of cold moisture. It should've felt like ice on his body. It should've made him shiver, it should've made him cold.

But he was numb.

He wished to feel something. An ounce of chill that told him he was still alive, still breathing.

But it was not so.

He took a deep breath before going still. An eerie calmness seemed to creep over him. The darkness embraced him like a lover, the silky shadows tended to him like the caring mother he had lost long ago.

He and the darkness were one.

And he embraced it back, caressing its silky skin and pulling it tighter against him like a velvety cloak. It felt smooth against his body, it comforted him in a time of despair. It was soothing to his distraught soul and it seemed to tell him that everything would be alright.

But to believe that would be a lie. He of all people knew that better than anyone else.

Lies were all he lived with during his life. But he was not only the victim of lies but the keeper of them, too. 

And he was tired of it. He was tired of everything.

He clenched his fists, looking down at the vast depths below him.

Crashing.

Swirling.

Dark.

Thunderous.

The strength of the stormy ocean showed no mercy.

And no mercy was what he deserved.

Oblivion.

And then he did what he knew he should've done all along.

He jumped.