Silent City

12: The Regret

 It was quiet. So, eerily quiet. The only noise that occasionally penetrated the deafening silence was a gust of air.

The Abyss. It was deep, dark, and foreboding. Abandoned. The shades at the bottom had been docile ever since the Radiance had been consumed. The only thing that remained were the millions of corpses, all of pale, nameless children. It was silent. It was dark. It was completely and utterly dead.

But out of the darkness came a rattling sound. A hand thrust from the pile of corpses, pale, and almost glowing. It grappled with the bones and pulled itself upward. A man emerged, gasping for air. He was pale, thin, and shivering. His hair, matted and thin, hung haphazardly in front of his face. He pulled himself from the dead, looking like a zombie. He was shaking with every bone in his body. He grappled helplessly at the lifeless faces staring up at him, his eyes filled with fear. Panting, he looked at his hands, and then up into the endless stretch of bodies. Tears were forced from his eyes as he looked upon them.

The Pale King started to sob. He hunched over, cradling himself. His sobs echoed throughout the abyss, reverberating off the walls and the ceiling, only to return back to him. He was waiting for the void to drag him back down into the bodies of his dead children. He had been in a loop for so long. He would fight through the corpses, make it to the top. He'd then make a pointless, painful trek towards the top of the abyss, only to inevitably fall and get pulled back into the skulls of his children by the void. This was all he had known for centuries. This was it. This was his punishment. He was doomed to suffer the fate that every single one of his children met— a loveless, pointless life among thousands of their siblings— just a number within a pointless quest for revenge.

The Pale King sobbed until he ran out of tears. He didn't want to climb up the abyss again. He knew he was just going to fall back into the corpses of his children, but he couldn't bear to look into their lifeless faces, all staring back at him, telling him the same thing: You brought this on yourself.

Climbing up the abyss was better than their faces staring at him. He started again, his limbs shaking with weakness and defeat. He was so utterly defeated. He just wanted to die, but he knew he wouldn't get that sweet release until he had finally and completely relived every single one of his children's lives.

Everything hurt. Didn't have any breath left in him, but he still climbed, a dead man walking. He clutched at the edge of each platform, wanting to scream in pain, but he couldn't.

After all, he had no voice to cry suffering.

...

The Pale King sat bolt upright, in a cold sweat. He was breathing rapidly, irregularly. Where was he? This room was clean and white. This wasn't the abyss. He wasn't in the abyss.

PK laid back down in his bed. He slowed his breathing, taking in his surroundings. Occasionally he had those nightmares. He didn't know if it was just his mind, or if the void was still within them, constantly reminding him of his wrongdoings. He hated it. He hated himself.

Someone opened his door. Out of instinct, he began to shiver, but this time it might have been real. Ever since he was visited by the Radiance in this hospital, he was overcome by genuine fear every time someone entered the room. He kept thinking that it was her, coming to take away his only pride— his mind. He didn't even know at this point if he would be able to resist her. He was such a broken man that he doubted he could keep himself from her influence.

"Someone is here to see you." The nurse who had opened his door said. Her voice was sweet and kind, but her voice didn't deter from what she said. Had the Radiance come back to take his mind from him? He couldn't let that happen.