Alone in the Dark

Fighting Darkness

All he knew now, was pain. He would find solace in rare instances of sleep before being woken by more pain. There were no colours or shapes, only the abyss of night. Always dark. All he knew was the dark of being in pain and then the dark of sleep. And then his dreams had stopped giving him solace, becoming a reliving of the torments he was going through while awake. He could feel claws and hear snarled words inside his brain. And that was when he wasn't having nightmares about the destruction of everything he loved.

Sometimes voices would come with the pain, whispering into his ear like lovers as they made his body feel like it was being ripped apart. He couldn't remember the cause of it all, he couldn't remember why he was being tortured.

It was just there, overwhelming his mind. And he was lost in a world between waking and dreaming, of nightmarish pain. He had tried to resist and then he had tried to give up, but they would not allow him any form of control over his fate.

They would force feed him when he had starved nearly to the point of collapse and when his body was crying in thirst, they would drown him until he drank. Sometimes they would starve him themselves, until it wasn't a tool of resistance that he could use.

A lot of the time he forgot where he was, or even who he was, only that he was a person alone, in the dark amongst monsters. Pain was the only truth. Perhaps he was a monster himself.

But there were some rare occasions when he could crawl deep enough into himself that the pain belonged to someone else and he was safe amongst everything he was. He remembered his love's smile, her laugh, her eyes.

He remembered his sister's embrace and the feeling of a warm, bright sun on his face. During those moments, he would brace himself with promises that there was something beyond this pain, a person who existed outside of the chains and darkness and whispers.

That he was a warrior and able to withstand all of this.

But those times were getting fewer and farther behind, until he struggled to hold onto the memory of those memories. Until he was truly alone, listening to the promises and threats of the creatures trying to break him.

"We don't seek truces or talking or peace. We do not seek land or riches or power. We seek the destruction of everything you are. We are here to destroy your kind out of the memories of the earth. When we finish with this land, we will continue until there isn't anyone to remember you. Only us and our power, and our memories. For there is no path than our path, no lives other than ours, no truths, no sunrises. Just the darkness we create."

Those words were repeated to him so often that there were times he said them himself. He could feel the hunger and anger and disgust at the entire human race as if it were his own. The only reason he knew that he was different from the monsters, was because they reminded him of it.

In those times, he struggled to remember ideals and love and anything else that made him human. The words would tumble through his head until they became his mantra.

The pain would usually stop when he did that, allowing him to fall into troubled dreams.

He couldn't remember if there had been a time when there was something they wanted from him.

He couldn't remember if he had ever given it to them, whatever it was.

Everything that he was, was pain and darkness. There was nothing beyond that.

***

His body burned, ached and froze in rapid succession.

He felt as if he could rip himself apart if he pulled hard enough on the restraints around his wrists and ankles.

At times, he knew he was in his room and could feel his sister running a cool cloth over his forehead. He felt her presence inside of his mind, healing the damage of the flames and ice that moved through his being.

She coaxed food and water down his raw throat, sung him the songs of their childhood and cried over him. He would lay there, panting and wasting away as he watched her. When he could speak, he begged her to let him go, to help him, to just let him see Emeltra for one moment and to let him go.

He was no longer the man she remembered, was instead, a man lost. The only thing holding him here was her and her cooling powers. 
Other times he was lost in dreams that felt more real than his lucid moments. He was born of flames and striking down anyone who stood in his way. He was fury and freedom, and nothing could stop him

He killed his sister, his King, his men, everyone, until there were only two people left in the world. And then, in those dreams, he realized everything he had done and felt his soul shatter into a million pieces. It was in those moments, he asked to die, begged for someone to kill him, and release him from his torment.

But there was no one left and though he begged himself, he would never find the courage to end his torment. He was a coward, a broken man unable to do anything but cower in the depths of his mind.

His only relief would come when he felt the heat break, washing him a cool calm as his dreams pulled him away from this world and his agony. He would find the one person left in the world, though he could never touch her. He was a spirit, following her in silent awe.

She was never aware of him, though she dragged him behind her with her mere presence. She was forever out of his reach, but close enough to hear and watch in brief glimpses. His entire body craved just a moment with her, it hurt, physically to be apart from her.

He would try to call out to catch her attention, wanting her to turn around so he could know who she was, but his voice was gone. He could only observe small snatches of her form or faded echoes of her voice.

It would all fade, until he would wake up to this sister washing his face with cool water. Then everything would begin again, and he was thrown back into the torture of a fevered, addicted world.