Heavy breathing echoed through a dark alley, and cold sweat rolled down his pale, handsome face.
The grand city was like a labyrinth, every turn discovered a new vintage building with not a single soul inside. Brick walls, like a cage, entrapped him in an endless maze of houses.
Looking at the broken watch on his wrist, the man's face cracked. Each puddle beneath his feet shook, a single ripple spread from him until a wall of water rose, encasing him inside with no way of escaping.
Shit!
Without any warning, they started to close in on him, fingers already hovering over the handle of his sword. The moment he pulled the hilt up, time seemed to stop momentarily.
His presence long gone, replaced by a lone ripple that was about to touch him.
"Did we get him, Professor?"
"Almost, he shouldn't have gotten far... Look for wet footprints!"
"Understood."
Two voices spoke from the shadows, one belonging to a man who seemed mature, his eyes dropping on the shard of glass that the man's voice left.
"Professor?"
The other was of a young girl, her voice full of worry, as she addressed the professor, who waved his hand.
"Go."
Her jaw tightened, but no word came out. She tried to comfort him, but the hand that reached for his back seemed infinitely smaller.
Sparks of fire trailed behind her as she vanished inside a shadow.
...
Hello, friend.
Zephyr spoke to the senile man.
Though he saw him clearly, the ashen eyes that held no trace of emotion wouldn't dare meet him.
He didn't mind it, after all... The man was Zephyr, and Zephyr was the man.
After finishing dinner, it seemed that his mind had already drifted into sleep without giving any time to go to bed. He had a lion now, meaning that he would put him to bed or at least inside the hut.
His tired gaze fell on his hands, or rather, the old man's, who now held a wooden crate in his hands.
Though his body was old, he felt ridiculous amounts of strength flowing through every muscle he knew. Long white hair fell on his face each time he stumbled against the rocky road.
With a grumble, the man moved his hand up to his hair and grabbed it tightly before smoothly cutting it in half, its long strands falling over the rocky road.
Bright lanterns lit themself one by one, a path created just for the man opened, leading forward to a small, destroyed building.
Calming wind brushed against his wrinkled cheeks; the cold was unbearably strong, as if his body, which should have failed a long time ago, had started to fall.
Zephyr watched it all, his watchful eyes trying to memorize each unique house, each structure.
The feeling of pain was gone, replaced by the sheer determination of the man. He didn't understand what that man wanted; he never understood why, after such a long life, he stopped clinging to it.
Do you want to tell me?
No answer came.
The wind seemed to pick up, and a sweet scent, that of newly bloomed flowers, spread throughout the long street.
It was as if everything had gained a pink hue; comfort filled the man's heart. His ears were turning hotter, cheeks gaining a red shade.
But inside his heart was a sting, a pulsing pain that couldn't stop flooding his mind. Yet no wound appeared on his body, not a spear that should have come to kill him, not a blade that pierced his body. A feeling of regret, or rather... Guilt, for something he'd done.
Each dream started like this.
The flood of emotions that the old man contained flowed through me as if it were my own.
I couldn't picture it. Why would someone do something they regret? Why did he choose to grieve now, after everything had been done?
It was as if the man himself chose him, his eyes landing on him from time to time but not uttering a word.
Like a ghost. That was how it felt.
Being there in the moment of the tragedy, but discarding all means of interfering with it.
Are you going to do it again?
Silent plea escaped his lips, his body moved forward, through the mist without any regard for Zephyr.
Another change happened.
The surroundings turned dark, darker than the night itself, which swallowed countless stars. Every lantern exploded, its frame shattering into pieces of glass and metal, which the elder walked over barefoot.
Pain shot through Zephyr's feet, trash cut into his skin with ease, and through the darkness, a small candlelight shone.
His eyes seemed to light up. Zephyr felt a sensation of him preparing to run forward, to catch that stray light and keep it to himself, forever.
Ready to jump forward, another shard of glass flew down, its sharp edge digging into his knee, which buckled.
Ugh
A groan escaped from both of them, with effort, supported by the fragile wooden crate. They stood up. Instantly, Zephyr's eyes closed, his legs barely able to handle the bleeding, were dragged along by the man, who didn't pass out from shock.
Each movement made glass shards dive deeper inside his flesh; the bloody trail left behind was a grim reminder that if this kept up, he would soon lose too much blood.
The candlelight grew closer, its warmth reaching even from such a distance. A hand held it, pale and slender with its nails cut identically.
Just go
Zephyr urged the man who froze on the spot, his body couldn't take a step further after a figure appeared from behind the shadows.
Mist. A living mist was holding the candle, except for a hand that floated inside it.
Please... Just go
Zephyr's voice trembled, the pain spreading through his legs like a web; each nerve screamed to be freed from the torture.
His muted plea seemed to be heard, as the man took a step forward, his hand reached for the candle.
Mist took a step back, its frame shook for a brief second before Zephyr's finger landed on the candle, and it crumbled into ice.
The darkness dispersed, light returning to the shattered lamps, which showed a new path.
On his left, a grand mansion stood tall, its steel gates opened the moment his eyes fell on it. With a screech, they opened fully, its bolts, which held themself together, flew out through the pressure and landed on the side.
Only an echo of running footsteps came from inside.