Ranma 1/2 Fan Fiction ❯ Abyss ❯ Abyss ( Chapter 1 )

ABYSS

031123

www.unspok ensilence.net

rahwin@ the domain above.

DISCLAIMER: Well, just read it, disclaimer. Dis - does not, negative. Claim - well, eh, claim... I do not own anything, is it even possible to own some numbers that's not even on your HD? Hmm, a hard question indeed. Or maybe I just need some sleep...

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There are things within us, insights and memories, that are better left alone...

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He was standing in his room, and only the room existed in this world. All the colours he saw were somehow bleached, not withered, just a bit dampened. The periphery of his vision was blurred, as if the room faded from view when he was not focusing on it. He was standing with his back to the window, but he wasn't sure a window existed. Right in front of him was the door, it was shut and the wood in the frame was very clear, even though the small swirls that normally existed in it seemed to move, to slither across the surface when he didn't look directly at it.

The room was quiet, no sound really existed here, he could only hear his own breathing, and the subtle roar of the blood rushing through his ears. The futon lay beside him, it was not rolled together, but it was made. Maybe he just rose from the bed, maybe he had been standing for a long time.

There was no sound, and his vision seemed to be somewhat deficient, but his touch seemed to make up for what the other senses lacked. He could feel everything with extreme crispness, how the soft silk on his body moved momentarily as he breathed, every fibre in the cloth he could sense, almost making the usually soft cloth rough to his skin, he could feel the air shifting minutely around him, the cold air sinking and the hot air rising in small swirls that caressed the parts of his body that were not covered in clothes. The tatami mats were felt in incredible detail, how his bare feet sank into the mat, the small give of the fibres in the straws flexing as his weight shifted a little from foot to foot to keep perfect vertical alignment.

All the sensory information was registered, but not fully digested. He felt as if he was there, but still not there. There was a feeling of detachedness that lightly tickled his mind, almost as if he perceived the world from his own senses, but also as if he was walled off from his own body by a glass wall, making everything seem otherworldly.

But even if many things seemed to be slightly off, it was still no problem. As he stood there, everything he saw was normal, or of no consequence at any rate. This was as it was supposed to be here, in his room, in his world.

And thus, as he could perceive no discrepancies with the situation as it was, he reached forward with his hand, the air rushing against his skin and making the hairs on his arms almost ache from the sensory intake, and opened the door.

The door opened into a brightly lit room, a girl's room. It was a bedroom, it had a girly air to it with pillows and soft bed sheets, he registered the outline of a desk to his right, and to the left was a window which a rich and warm light was shining through, but he could feel no heat. The room had a warm feel, a happy room. But it was also hollow, the happiness inside somehow a lie, the light just a façade.

On the bed sat a girl, He turned his head and focused on her, she was very real, and she was cute. She wore a yellow sundress, and she held a black little pig made of stuffed cloth in her hands, her hair was cut to end at the neck, and it was black and lustrous.

He took one step over the threshold, the step taking him through the door, which he was not sure actually existed, and into the girls room, the girl turned her head toward him, showing no surprise at his entrance. She looked at him with soulful eyes, as if she wanted to say something important, but was a little afraid to say it. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, she turned from cute to beautiful with her smile. He continued to smile, and took a step towards her.

"Hi" He said, somehow being aware that uttering that simple phrase sealed something, that something enormous started moving, and that now it would never be possible to stop it. In response, the girl stood up, and with her smile turning into a grimace she slapped him. He felt the soft smoothness of her skin just before his cheek and head exploded in agony, and he slumped to the ground in a paroxysm of pain, not uttering a sound.

"Don't touch me you pervert! You're all the same! Why do you always try to do something dirty?" The girl screamed at the top of her lungs, he lolled his head so he could watch her, the pain quickly subsiding, but still potent enough to turn his muscles into water.

"Can't I trust you even once not to go flirting with other girls? How many times have I said that you should just tell them to go away, but you always try to do some horrible thing to those poor girls! Stay away from those bitches!" She yelled with all her power, a small amount of spittle flying from her lips, her face red and twisted by rage. He felt a sadness and an emptiness well up inside of him. Betrayed trust that ate at him with its hollow presence. When he looked up at her he felt loss and sorrow, and conflicting emotions of frustration, anger and shame. He started to rise, his cheek still pulsing with pain.

"I don't need your help, I can protect myself! Why do you always have to be such an arrogant jock? Everything is your fault!" She continued to scream, her voice somehow rising in pitch, a touch of panic tainting the fury as he rose up and stood just a step from her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..." He mumbled apologetically, reaching out to her with his hand, she jerked as if hit when he raised his hand, and took a quick step back, her eyes filling with terrified dread.

"No! Don't come near me, pervert! Don't touch me!" She wailed, but didn't fight when he gently put a hand on her shoulder. He could feel the warmth of her skin shining through his hand, and he could feel the wild heartbeat rushing under her skin through his fingers. The girl burst into tears and gave a loud scream, her knees failing and making her slump to the ground. He crouched as she fell, steadying her gently with his other hand.

"No! Please not again! Don't touch me! I don't want to!" The girl shrilled with a panicked voice, as she crept quickly backward, into the corner of her room, shrinking together into a ball and curling her arms protectively over her head. He felt shock at the strong reaction, and remained crouched in his place, with his hands still outstretched, staring at her.

"I don't want them to touch me, I don't want to be violated, please don't rape me! Why did you have to leave me?" The girl quickly breathed, curling up tighter, the tears streaming out from her eyes, dripping down her knee and leg, her eyes focused on something that wasn't there.

"They're all the same, can't trust them, all the eyes watching hungrily, no, please, don't touch me, please, I don't want to... mommy... where are you mommy? Why didn't you come back, I'm afraid..." She pleaded urgently, her voice just a whisper.

He stood up, still lost in confusion, but still worried. He took a step toward her, and crouched down beside her.

"I'm not going to hurt you, please. I won't touch you, I just want to be friends, please?" He pleaded softly, not making any movement to touch her at all. The girl burst out in renewed tears, her face twisting in fear and panic.

"No! please don't rape me, I don't want to, please please please... Don't touch me..." She cried out, not focusing on him, apparently trapped in her own little hell. He quickly rose again, and took a few steps backward, not wanting to agitate her further, feeling a surge of hopelessness and frustration wash over him.

The colour of the room had changed, it had lost its warm yellow and was now a faded grey, the sunshine outside had turned into a gloomy and shaded light. There was an almost solid aura of darkness surrounding the corner the girl was squeezed into. The feeling of happiness was altogether gone, only a haunting feeling of emptiness, loss and fear lingered in the air.

"Why did they take you mommy, where did you go? I want my mommy..." The girl moaned in fright, clutching her head with her arms as tight as she could. He watched in rapt horror at the scene, a sick feeling of panic creeping up from the base of his gut.

"I have to keep them away, scare them all away, can't trust them, keep them away! I hate them all, please just stay away." She whispered, in a frighteningly obsessed whisper, as she slowly started to shift from side to side.

He turned to his right and fled out of the door, which quietly shut itself again. Behind him a duck ornament fell from the door and shattered against the floor, dark red blood slowly seeping out of the broken wood of the little ornament, pooling beneath the broken remains.

He ran through a short corridor, and burst into another room. He stopped abruptly when he saw, and felt, in which room he was in, and the room with the girl he fled from somehow faded from his thoughts, only a small shadow of a memory lingering in the back of his mind.

The room he was in now was a soft blue, a dim hue that was easy on the eyes and fitting for a bedroom, but somehow conveying a feeling of sadness, of loneliness.

There was a bed at the short side of the room, it was made with sheets that were a slightly darker shade of blue. A bookcase rested along another wall, filled with books. Against the wall that was opposite the bed, and almost right in front of him, was a desk, it was littered with pencils and papers with neat text on them, in front of the desk stood an office chair, and in the chair sat a girl.

She held a paper in her hands, and she was studying it with a sad expression. She had dark hair, cut rather short, a small nose and brown eyes. She was pretty, but he knew somehow that the beauty in her face mostly was covered by a cold expression, or a predatory smile that didn't really fit her.

The girl was looking at the paper in her hands, seemingly taking in every small detail of the neat writing, probably her own, she seemed almost on the verge of crying. Suddenly she glanced at his direction, and looked at him without surprise, as if she had known he would be there if she looked.

"So you're here... Go away, I don't want to talk to you." Her voice was broken, not much more than a whisper, and all the guile and confidence that he somehow knew was the hallmark of her usual speech was nowhere to be heard. After a short moment, where he didn't move from the spot at the door, if there was a door, and finally she raised her eyes from her paper once again and swivelled the chair to face him.

"Didn't I tell you to leave me alone?" She asked, with a tone that spoke of her irritation, her voice now almost as confident as he knew it usually was. She raised form the chair, narrowing her eyes and levelling a cold stare at him, making a chilly and unpleasant tingle crawl up his spine. She took two steps, and stopped just in front of him.

"I told you to go away! Do you know what pain I can cause you if I want to? I don't need any mighty martial arts technique to squash you like a bug." She poked him in the chest with a menacing expression, contempt filling her voice. Her finger on his shirt rasped against his supersensitive skin, her long nail almost digging painfully into his breastbone. He was afraid, but there wasn't really anywhere he could go, and her scary gaze froze him in place. She growled at him.

"I told you to go! I don't want you here! I don't need you..." Her angry scream lost all its intensity and faltered into a sob at the end, her face loosing all its rage, her eyes closed in a sad expression as she lowered her head, her sharp finger balling into a loose fist and powerlessly hitting at his chest.

"I don't need you, so go away... I don't need anyone, just leave me alone." She told him in a broken voice, tears collecting in her eyelashes and slowly falling to the floor. He stared at her in surprise, and started raising one of his hands, but hesitated, and stopped.

"I know you don't need me, well, I don't need you either, I can manage on my own, I'll be better than anyone of you." She said weakly, her anguished voice interrupted by sobs. He felt an increasing pain at seeing her like this, and brought up his hand to touch her comfortingly on the arm.

"Hey, I'm..." he started, abruptly interrupted as she swatted his arm away and stumbled back.

"No! You're just lying! You're just like everyone else, you just want to use me and throw me away. Well, I won't let you, I'll use you first, and then throw you away." She tripped on the chair behind her, and sat down heavily but did not fall over. She lowered her head over her hands, her bangs covering her face, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. He stood hesitating, not sure what to do.

"I... I just don't want to be alone..." She finally choked out in a pitiful whimper. He stared at her in slowly growing dread as the light in the room faltered, he couldn't handle this kind of thing.

"I feel so alone... But I'm afraid, I can't..." she continued, almost too low for him to hear. The shadows now thick in the corners and almost hanging like a dark halo around the girl on the chair.

"Everyone is just taking my personality for granted, I, I'm too afraid to break out of it, I can't do it... But I don't want to be alone... please." Her whisper made the bud of terror in his heart suddenly bloom, and he turned to his right and violently pushed the door there open, fleeing the now dark room. Behind him the door slammed shut and its blue paint started dry up and crack, as if aging several decades in mere moments, peeling off and showing the twisted black wood underneath.

He rushed down a short trail of sand, with high hedges on each side, chased by the pure panic in his mind. He didn't notice the long red thorns that the green hedges spouted everywhere, and sprinted down until he came to an open door, he stepped in before he could stop his momentum forward, and the door closed behind him without a sound.

The horror quickly faded from his mind, creeping back into the back of his mind, where it didn't really disappear, just calmed enough for him to disregard it. He was in a room with peaceful white light. Three walls were painted in a soft white, the floor made of a light shade of wood that was scrubbed until it was almost the same colour as the walls, and the ceiling looked the same. To his right, shoji screens covered the whole wall, made of faded wood and translucent white paper, the light on the other side was strong, and bathed the room in a soft white sheen. It was almost as if the room was filled with a fog of condensed light, it was a beautiful room, and gave an impression that it would always be devoid of life.

A man sat in the inner right corner, with the back to the shoji, back hunched and head lowered. The old man was clad in a gi that was made of a faded grey, a hollow colour that reminded of old faded and bitter memories. As he stepped a little closer to the man, stopping in the middle of the room, he could see that the man had a moustache, and that he held a framed picture in his old hands. The man was slowly caressing the frame, staring at the faded picture of a smiling woman that it contained, mumbling something that he couldn't hear. Leaning closer to get a better view of the woman clad in kimono in the picture the man stopped caressing the picture, and halted his mumbling.

"So you're here... There's nothing for you here boy, nothing that you need or will ever want, so it's better you leave." The man uttered the words with a slow and tired voice, more pleading than commanding, the man made no motion to turn around. The boy straightened, and was about to turn around and leave the room when the man spoke up again.

"It's strange how being left by someone can break you so that nothing will ever make you whole again." The man's voice was somehow more expected to come in a pathetic wail than the tired sigh it came in now. He turned back to facing the man, who sat there hunched as if he had nothing in his body to keep him from sagging.

"I think, I died with her really, and the only thing that's left now is the half mad husk of what contained what I used to be, trying to act as if nothing had happened, and failing." The man fell silent for a while, and suddenly the room felt empty, as if the few meters that made up each wall in reality spanned kilometres.

"I'm so tired, I don't have any power in my soul any more. I don't want anything, everything is dead, just like her." The man's voice came like a sigh, and felt like dust in his ears, somehow meaningless but still conveying a tired emptiness.

"I can't wait for the day that I can finally follow her, to see her again, or even just to disappear and be relieved of the agony that is living. My daughters, my poor brave daughters, I'm ashamed that I can't manage to do more for them than what I do, so ashamed. My poor flawed daughters..." The man's voice slowed off into a mumble, his hands absently starting to caress the faded picture once again.

"Just one more day, I'll stay one more day, just to make sure they're safe, I can manage one more day, I promise." The man told the picture in a soft tone, as if talking to his dearest love. The man continued to mumble 'just one more day' absently, repeating it to himself as if he had done it every day for many years.

The fog of light felt like it crawled on his skin, trying to expunge him from its realm but was powerless to do so, he looked down on the man, pity filling his mind, pity and disgust, and a cold sadness seeped into him and whispered to the sadness already contained within him.

He turned to leave the mumbling, broken man, going to his left to the white shoji door and opening it, after shutting it slowly behind him he walked away, the door seemed to remain the same, until the light shining through the rice paper turned to pitch black, and dark blood started seeping out through the crack between the door and the floor.

He walked slowly forward, the plain hallway that he was in finally ended in a plain wooden door, and from the other side emanated an exquisite smell. He opened the door, eagerly but a bit on his guard none the less. It opened into a modest kitchen, a very neat and beautifully kept kitchen, some pots on the stove gave off the wonderful aroma, and he was almost tempted to rush forward and sample what undoubtedly would be the best meal he ever had, but something in the back of his mind told him that someone who was very important not to hurt would be disappointed in him if he did so, the voice's whisper only lasted for a short moment, but it was enough to keep him from walking to the stove.

Glancing to his right, where a kitchen table stood, he noticed the beautiful girl with long brown hair in a ponytail sitting there staring into a small teacup on the table before her. She was dressed in a simple housedress, and her gentle features and beautiful eyes almost made him smile, until he noticed the troubled expression on her face. He moved forward, until he stood just a few steps from the table, and looked at her, not sure how to ask what was wrong.

Suddenly she glanced up from the cup, and gazed at him without surprise. The lack of a smile on her face somehow instilled a creeping fear within him, it seemed so unnatural. As he was frozen in place by her eyes upon him, he saw how she traced every line of his body, and how she slowly scrutinised his face, all without a change in expression. Suddenly she looked down at the cup of tea once again, seemingly becoming even sadder.

"Why do you fight?" She asked in a voice so low he almost didn't hear her. He was surprised by her question, fight? Why did he fight? Somehow the question just drew a blank in him, the thought felt familiar, but he didn't know anything about fighting, not here, but still, was not fighting a part of what he was?

"I just wish... I just wish that everyone could get along, that there didn't have to be any fighting, any wars. Everyone should be able to be happy together." Her voice gained some strength and she raised her head to look at him again, her pain shining from her eyes.

"Why is there so much aggression? Why does everyone have to hate so much? Aren't humans capable of forgiving each other? Do people have to protect themselves with hate?" She asked him, her lower lip trembling in a way that would be cute in any other situation than the horrid clarity of that moment. He opened his mouth, desperately trying to find an answer to her questions, but could not for his life come up with any comforting words that would not sound hollow. Slowly he closed his mouth again, guilt spreading its cold tendrils in his stomach when he failed to give any comfort to the girl before him.

"I try so hard all the time, to help everyone else. I'm trying so hard to quell the hate that is flying everywhere. But I can't do it alone." Her voice lost some of its power, and she looked down at her teacup again, slowly sliding a delicate finger along the side of the teacup.

"I feel so helpless, I can't do anything, nothing I do helps anyway. I, I feel so alone. Even though there are so many people around me, there's no one that sees me. It's like no one notices me, and I'm too afraid to try and get their attention." A quiet sob shook her shoulders, and she leaned further in over the table to hide her face. He stood there, looking helplessly at her, lost as to what to do, the guilt slowly growing stronger, this was his fault somehow, something he could have changed.

"I just wanted the family to survive... I didn't want to be like mother, but I had to. And now I'm just as much a ghost as she is, no one sees me, and I'm so alone. Why can't I make them see me? Just because I don't hate like them? I just want to be loved too." A teardrop hit the tea, making small rings spread and disrupt the calm surface of the dark liquid. Several others followed, making small wet dots on the table as the girl sitting there sobbed quietly. He lowered his head as the guilt ate violently at his mind, there was no point in staying here, he had hurt her, better to just disappear, he didn't deserve being here.

He turned slowly and trudged toward the door to his left, mournfully passing by the stove and opened the door, feeling in explicit detail the cold and unforgiving metal of the doorknob, and started to move through. On the other side was an empty parking lot, buildings looming dark on all sides and a strange and unnerving silence permeating the gloomy place. He turned, and looked back, into the cosy and warm kitchen with regret. He was just about to close the door when the girl looked up, and quickly glanced around with panic, and then turned around and saw him. Frantically throwing herself from her seating she lunged for the door, her tears flying in her hasty motions.

"No! Don't leave! I want to be with you! Don't leave me alone!" She screamed as the door suddenly yanked itself out of his hand, quickly slamming shut just as the girl reached the other side. The sound of the door shutting was like the thunderous crash of a reinforced castle gate falling shut, and as ominous as the heavy stone door of a great tomb falling into place. Dust trailed slowly down the sides of the door as he was standing there stunned, unsure of what just had happened.

The almost living silence in this place slowly crept upon him, as though it would lash out and try to poison him with some horrible disease of the mind, the creeping feeling in his back jerked him out of his shock and he quickly reached out and ripped the door open and jumped into the kitchen again.

It wasn't a kitchen. The damp algae-covered cave walls that met him seemed to sneer in glee at his shock and disappointment. The small cave with sand as floor was of massive and rough black stone, covered in a greenish fluorescent slime, the room elongated out to black openings at either side of the room, as the cave continued in both directions. He stood there, staring in surprise at the room, and trying to remember what it was he was so disappointed at, but then casually shrugging and letting the matter go.

He turned to his right when he heard a faint echo of a laugh, it wasn't sinister or happy, it just gave a creeping feeling of being perverted. The echo ebbed out, and in its place he could hear the faint sound of someone breathing hard. As it came closer, and the echoes got clearer he could hear the air rasping in the dry throat of the fleeing being, the slight whistling sound every time a new breath was taken as the dry air painfully ripped through a throat and lungs that were tired and lacking moisture.

He didn't move as an old man ran into the small cavern, with back bent to be able to run in spite of the low ceiling. The old man slowed down in the slight illumination of the algae, and then collapsed onto his hands and knees in the middle of the cave panting heavily. The man looked up, his bandanna-covered head slick with sweat and face twisted in stark fear, the small glasses on his nose tied with string around his ears quivering as the man shook in exhaustion and fear. Their eyes met, and they were the same, and yet still not the same.

"Boy, you got to help me. The master is here, he's after me!" The old man panted out, rose up with seemingly renewed powers, and loosely gripped the boy at the front of his shirt. He looked at the man, his balding head, his broad features and nose, his bulging stomach, and the somehow familiar feel of his big fleshy hands bunched up in fists in his shirt.

He felt a begrudging respect, an underlying but strong love, and bitter disappointment and disgust well up inside of him. Somehow he wanted to destroy this man, but his love and pride would not let him, he stood there with a blank expression as the conflicting emotions wreaked havoc inside of him in battle for dominion. The old man's face scrunched up even more.

"Don't you understand?! He's coming, and he's going to try and make me "practise" more. I can't take more of this horrible dishonouring practise in perversion that he calls his martial arts. There has to be somewhere to hide! I have to run, I can't do it, I can't honour the agreement!" The old man shouted in the boy's face, but the threat in his voice was hollow as his face and shaking hands showed his obvious fear.

"It's your responsibility now! I can't do it, you have to do it for the honour of the family name. Don't shame me, boy! You're such an ungrateful heir! I ought to... I..." The man's voice trailed off, suddenly losing the edge it had, both in fear and rage, loosening the grip on his shirt the man slowly turned away and sank to his knees, looking at his calloused palms.

"I'm... I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say that... please forgive me." The man mumbled with regret tainting his voice. The man slowly lowered his head into his palms, and then onto the damp sand, bowing down in shame with his back to the silent eyes watching him.

"You are right boy, I'm a coward, a worthless man not worth the air I'm breathing. But the fear, the fear that's always there... I can't fight it anymore. T-the master, his face and evil voice haunt me every second of the waking day, only in sleep can I evade him for a little bit. I'm so sorry boy, but I can't help it, I can't help myself." The man talked slowly, his grief and tiredness evident in his voice, not moving from his kneeling stance, as if afraid that he might break if he moved but a millimetre.

"It wasn't like this once you know, once I was just like you, the world was mine for the taking, nothing could stand in my way to protect the ones I loved, and the weak. But then, as I started on the mighty path of the anything goes ruy... Everything became so horribly wrong. Every day since the moment I vowed to learn the disciplines of the anything goes until reaching master level has been a living hell. I, I was too weak boy, he crushed me slowly but surely, and I could do nothing to stop it." A slow sigh came from the man, and he seemed to relax just a fraction as some of his story had been told.

"Sometimes it's like being inside someone else, sitting inside a madman and a coward and seeing through his eyes and feeling what he feels and smelling what he smells, but without control. When the fear comes the impulses to do everything available to put the blame on someone else come forth, to lash out to make sure I am not to blame. Or simply just follow the teachings of the master and the only thing that I can do is to dive into as much gluttony and other vices that he thought me as I can not to go grab some poor woman, it's some strange reversed compulsion to do whatever he says and teaches. I can't stop, I just can't stop... Sometimes I think it would be better just to commit seppuku in some lucid moment and be rid of the shame and fear. But I still have responsibilities, some things are, as I have discovered, more important than honour." He slowly trailed off and became quiet, tension returning to his shoulders.

He stood there, watching the old man's back in his kneeling position, bent over so that the head, cradled in his hands, touched the ground. As he stood there and listened to the man's story he didn't really feel anything, he should have felt something, he knew that this was somehow very important, and very emotional in some way, but he couldn't gather any feelings at all.

"Did you hear that?" The man asked, seemingly listening desperately. Suddenly a chilling laugh echoed through the small cavern, and the man crouched on the floor gibbered in fear. The high pitched laugh quickly came closer and the old man burst from his kneeling position, and with lightning fast movements turned and grabbed him by his shirt again and made a mighty heaving movement, rolling his burden onto his shoulder and threw him into the opposite wall, through the large hole.

He flew upside down, and saw the small black form lunge from the shadows to clutch to the old man's neck as the old man desperately tried to dodge, in vain. The wall started crumbling and fall down, and the last he saw before rocks dirt and dust covered the hole was a dark red spray bursting out from the old man's neck where the small black form was perched. And then he hit the ground.

He lay on his stomach for a while, his face pressed into the smooth cold stone floor, unable to move for the beaming pain in his shoulder where he landed, the supersensitive skin and pain receptors in his back howling in agony. When his muscles had turned from water to just jelly he slowly opened his eyes, wondering slowly how long he had been lying here, it felt like an eternity. Slowly getting to his knees and hands he noticed he had something warm and wet on his face, he slowly brought up his hand and touched the area with the moist sensation. He brought back his hand and looked at it, it looked like blood. But he was not bleeding, surely he would feel the pain, but who did the blood belong to then? He pondered this as he got to his feet. Not finding any explanation in his memories he just shrugged it off, and wiped his hand on his trousers.

When he turned his attention to his surroundings he was stunned by what he saw. He was in a great circular hall in some black shiny stone with grey streaks, the polished floor laid flawlessly, no dirt staining its dark perfection. Many pillars were placed along the wall of the circular hall, surrounding the empty space. Ten meters up a circular ring of stone lay against the wall, going around the entirety of the hall, resting on the pillars. On the ring a new set of pillars stood, and on them rested another ring, and so on until he could not see any farther. It was a little like an inverted tower, seemingly burrowing deep into the dark heart of the world. Between each pillar was a great rune etched, a small indention that formed a line of even darker black and gold. The runes stood tall, and even if they were incomprehensible as to what mysterious secrets they held he felt a cold shiver crawl down his spine at the sight of them. This place held an almost painful sharpness to the eye, unlike the slight fuzziness that had been resting over the rest of the places he somehow knew he had been at, even if he didn't remember them, it was almost as if he could feel the unforgiving stone with his gaze just as he had brushed his fingertips across the cool surface.

He turned, swivelling in his place, looking for an exit, or any sign of entrance at all, he found none, the flawless black stone meeting his gaze everywhere, and when he completed his turn a podium was standing in the middle of the hall, and a man stood there upon.

He frownied, somehow feeling that there was something wrong with the room as it was now, that it had maybe been different before. Unable to figure out what had been different he shrugged and let it go, a small sense of apprehension lingering in the back of his mind. He stepped forward, moving towards the dais, and finally stepped upon it, and faced the man.

The two of them looked at each other, one the mirror of the other. Except one detail, one had blood on his chin, and the other had tired eyes and a weary face. The young man looked at him, and then tiredly turned away, taking a few steps, turning to him again and sat down in the middle of the platform.

"Are you aware of what you are doing? Do you realise where you are? Do you even grasp a fraction of what danger you are putting yourself in?" The young man with the tired eyes said with a drained voice as he watched him intently, and he looked back, not moving from where he was standing, not really understanding what the young man was saying, and... Something about his face and clothes was very familiar... The sitting man gave a tired lopsided grin, it lacked any happiness, only conveying irony and fatigue.

"I guess not, you wouldn't be here if you did, would you now?" The young man said with some irony, then he turned around, and hugged his legs to him.

He stood there, staring at the young man sitting and resting his head on his knees with his back to him. Time moved, but it was unsure if an aeon went past, or just a few minutes, this place gave no sign of which. Suddenly he was startled, out of the hypnotic and regular expansion and contraction of the other mans chest as he slowly breathed, when the man drew a deep breath and spoke once more.

"You know, there's one thing I've been thinking about and never really figured out. I mean, you should protect the weak and those incapable of defending themselves; it's no question about it. But what I've been thinking about is that, when the protector is weak, who protects him then?" The man gave a tired sigh, lapsing into a brief silence. He stood there watching, more waiting for the man to continue than really thinking about the question.

"I know it's hard to think about everyone else all the time, selfishness is a part of everyone. But, I'm so tired of not being noticed, of not being given any consideration. It's always about everyone else, they all think they're so high and mighty and right in everything. All I am is a toy, something that embodies something they think is really important. May it be revenge or marriage or redemption of their honour or whatever. Who thinks of me? Who cares about my feelings? Why doesn't anyone protect me?" The man's voice was haunting, conveying a hopeless sadness, it sang in him, making a cold despair crawl up his stomach.

"I thought that if I tried to protect everyone as best as I could then they would give back something of what I tried to give them, to let me be safe sometime too. But it seems I didn't try hard enough, no matter what I attempt it's never enough. I really strive to make them all happy, I struggle not to let anyone down, but whatever I do I always get a disapproving glare from somewhere. I really wish I could be what they think I am, I really tried to become what they thought I should be. But I'm not good enough, I'm just too weak..." As the man paused he could hear a groan far above, a thunderous sound as if the earth was in pain. Dust gradually started falling from the darkness above, a fine powder that slowly descended, glittering beautifully here and there.

"I've tried for so long, I've fought so many battles, and I'm tired. I would just want to lie down and sleep, to sleep forever. I was always told never to give up, that it was worse than death, that nothing could be worse than giving up. But I'm so tired, it's all so pointless, I can't win, it's impossible."

As the man spoke the distant rumble slowly grew more prominent, and with a loud chilling sound one of the pillars fractured, several great cracks climbing over its frame, dust and splinters of black stone falling to the floor with a pattering sound. The man lifted his eyes from the ground and looked up into the darkness far above, and he followed the man's gaze. He could see a small shadow far above, and it was soundlessly coming closer. After just a short moment the shadow grew larger and in an instant a part of a black stone pillar crashed into the ground to the side of them, making a crater in the before flawless floor and spraying splinters of black stone everywhere. He shielded his face as the pillar hit the ground, feeling shards of stone impact all over his frame, and he gritted his teeth at the sharp pain that registered from every little pebble. The thunderous moaning became gradually more prominent. This place frightened him, and the man that sat before him made him want to run, made him want to scream. Something within him vibrated at the man's tired voice, something that was dangerous, that he didn't want to become aware of. The man spoke again, and even if he still spoke in his quiet tone his voice was still perfectly clear over the deafening rumble.

"It has to be acceptable to give up too, I can't live on fighting this pointless battle, maybe it's better this way. Don't you think? You and I are the same after all." The young man turned around in his sitting position and looked up. Their eyes met, and they were the same.

He stepped back from the man sitting in front of him just as time seemed to slow its pace, From above more stone came sailing, slowly and gracefully tumbling down as if they were sinking in a great body of water. He continued trying to get away from the sadly smiling man on the ground, his whole body tingling from the panic in his mind as just one step seemed to take an eternity. With a sick, twisting emotion crawling inside of him he realised that he was the man sitting there, he was the one that said all those things. With a snap he remembered the other rooms, the other people he met and everything they had said.

He opened his mouth and screamed in denial, gripping his head as he slowly fell to his knees.

His last sight was of the man, he himself, sitting in the middle of the room, a few meters from him, smiling with a sad smile at him as a veritable wall of crumbling stone slowly closed in from above, big pieces of black stone already crashing down around him with beautiful cascades of fragments gracefully sailing from the impacts.

And as the stone was about to descend the last meter before crushing them both everything abruptly turned black and consciousness ceased to exist.

Suddenly he realised that he was screaming, and that his throat was raw. He abruptly ended his scream, and looked around him hastily. When he noticed the presence of a bedroll over his legs, and the darkened walls of his bedroom he relaxed slightly. Panting for breath, he sat there on his bedroll, feeling the sweat slowly roll off him in small drops.

After getting his breath back he slowly laid back again, it was the same nightmare, he was sure of it. If only he could remember what it was about...

He sighed resignedly, not looking forward to the time until the sun came up, sleep always fled him after he had had the nightmare.

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