He could feel himself floating. Feel the subtle rise and fall as cold waves passed beneath him like strangers in a crowd. They brushed against the ends of his toes, the groove of his back, and the spaces between his fingers, but they never knew he was there. To them, he was just a part of the scenery.

Another soul lost at sea.

Where... am I? he thought to himself, but he could barely hold the question in his mind. Everything felt... off. He was tired. Confused. Every thought felt buried in a haze. He swayed with the waves as more of them came, letting water wash up against his skin. Cold groped at his thigh, around his neck, catching his breath. He shuddered. I should go, he thought, I— Then he paused. I... what? His head was ringing. The thought was right there! I...

I— then it was gone. Taken by the sea and scattered into its depths.

He looked up.

The sky was dark. Barren. There was no moon or stars above him, yet their quiet light somehow still lingered. He could just barely see the faint outline of waves rolling in the distance, as water stretched out as far as he could see beneath the faceless night. How long until morning? he thought idly. Then he froze. Morning? He stared up at the empty sky. No, that's not right. His head was throbbing. I know it's not. There it was again! That feeling, that pit at the edge of his mind. He knew he was missing... something. Something important! It itched in his head. Gnawed at his thoughts, pining, screaming! He couldn't let this go! The pit dug out his mind, until its edges spread wide, and it loomed in his thoughts like a gulf, a crater, an endless void. That sinking abyss where his heart should be, where his soul should be, where he should be, but there was nothing there. No, he thought, no, there's something there. Something

I— He froze. Forgot? But I...

Wait who... who am I?

The words sank in his gut like a boulder. No, he thought. No, I know who I am. His insides were twisting. I do. The tide turned restless. The water started to rise, sending waves that were larger, stronger, they knocked him aside. I have to go! He thought. I have to go right now! He was still in a daze, but he just had to get up. If he left, he'd be fine! He could still get away! Except he couldn't.

He couldn't move. Wait wha—

Water plowed into his face, more stung at his eyes. His legs drooped. His body twisted. He was starting to slide under.

Holy shit! Fear lurched up his throat. Holy shit! Holy shit! His hands dipped below the waves. Then his waist, his stomach. He braced at the cold. No! No! I'm not dying here! His panic felt feral. His instincts raged. I'm not! I won't! He stared down at his arm. His eyes were still burning. His vision swam from the pain, but he looked, putting all his focus behind one word. Move. He glared. Move! Harder. Move! His courage was crumbling. He needed this. Please!

He waited for feeling. Nothing happened. Please— another wave cracked him on the side of the head, and he rolled, tumbling headfirst into the sea.

He lost the surface in an instant. The next light was gone. He kept rolling, swirling with the terror of the abyss. Water slipped down his throat. His chest started to burn. He was going to choke. He was going to— drown, he thought, softly at first. Then he screamed. Shit, I'm gonna drown! I'm gonna drown! I'm— the tide rocked him forward. His head lurched up... and broke through to the surface.

He took a breath, gasping, but it wasn't enough! He needed more air! His head tilted back, pulling his gaze toward the sky... and then he saw it.

The storm.

Black clouds above him corrupted the sky, churning with a wind only they seemed to feel. They brought no rain, only thunder, terrible and deep, pounding the air like it might shatter from the sound. It shook the ocean with its fury, made it tremble from its might, until in a blinding flash lightning ripped across the sky— and it was violet. Scorched violet, like the light was tinged by ash. It pulsed through the clouds the way cracks mar a stone, writhing across the shifting sky. It was terrible. Powerful. The sight left him in awe, until the tide came again and snatched him out of his trance, dragging him back into the sea. Terror crawled inside him, like insects under his skin. He felt them moving. Squirming. Breeding. Biting. Move! Move! Please just move! Please! Nothing listened. He couldn't move, and the sea was wild now.

The waves were gods, titans, mountains unchained. He was lost in their motion, trampled by their step. In and out, up and down, he couldn't keep up. There was only the sound of thunder and waves, crashing in his ear like cascading fury. Come on! he pleaded, as his chest started to burn. Twitch, scream, please, do something, anything! His eyes went wide. Breathe... I can't breathe!

He gasped, letting agony pour into his chest as water forced its way down his throat. He felt the darkness consume him. He was going to pass out... and then the current changed. What was once a wild, unpredictable sprawl gained new purpose. A single direction.

Down.

Water surged past him, dragging down the tide as if the sea were draining. The weight of the waves plunged him deeper into the abyss, until a final push from the tide threw him into the depths, and the sea swallowed him whole.

It was dark in the belly of the deep. There were no lingering lights, no shadowy figures lurking, there was just... nothing. A boundless cold where weary souls went to die. Please— he began, but he choked, sucking in more water, as his lungs screamed and burned. Soon spasms were ripping through him as his body reached its limit. The irony was almost funny. The first sign that his body could move was the final sign that this was the end.

He closed his eyes.

It's alright, a voice suddenly boomed in his head. Really it was more like voices, a choir of them. Men, women, and children resounding as one in his thoughts. I have you now.

What— he began, but he cut himself off as he realized that he was... falling. Free falling. As if the water had never been there at all. He opened his eyes and saw he was barreling down toward a white light. Wind rushed past him. He was picking up speed. His stomach lurched, twisted, he couldn't— all at once the light erupted in front of him, and the dark scene around him was obliterated.

He was in grass.

He felt it brushing against him, soft and thin, like velvet waving gently with the wayward breeze, leaving drops of cool dew in their wake. He sighed. Then he heaved. Water dribbled out his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Another cough curled him up onto his hands and knees until— Wait a second, he thought, I can move! He found two more precious breaths then looked down at his hand, turning it over shakily just to confirm he was right. He smiled, drained and nearly broken, but he smiled.

"I can move!" he shouted, coughing and laughing. Then he coughed again. And again. And again. And— Ok! he thought, no more shouting. He choked. No more laughing. Faint chuckles blossomed softly, like birds' songs in his mind, interrupting his thoughts.

It's alright, the choir said again, as their laughter past, just breathe. Heat swelled in his chest as their words echoed through him. He felt alive again. His next breath rushed air into his chest, finally soothing him out of his vicious coughing fit.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Who are you?" he asked, looking up, and he knelt there. Frozen. Mouth gaped in awe, because even after all the healing was done, the scene around him still managed to take his breath away.

He was kneeling in a forest of massive trees, each one towering over him by at least several stories. Branches, thick and dense with leaves, stretched out like a labyrinth across the sky; while rays, almost woven of silk and sunlight, reached down toward the hills of roots and grass that rolled on as far as he could see. It was beautiful. Majestic. And nothing compared to what flew before him now.

Hovering just a few steps away was a mass of brilliant flames. The fires twisted and soared, like comets in a dance, roaring through the air as they wove themselves into a sphere of red-orange light. Heat pulsed through the trees. Embers raced toward the leaves, and at the center of it all was an orb of fire, whose gentle glow and wavering light somehow gave off the impression of a face.

I'm a friend, the flames said in their choir of voices. As it spoke, the fire's roars seemed to fade behind its voice, growing soft until they bristled and snapped as gently as a small campfire.

"I don't understand," he said, beginning to stand. "What's going on here? What is this place? What—"

I know you have questions, the flames cut in, but we don't have much time.

"Time for what?"

The orb's glow softened in a way that he could only describe as what it would look like if a fire could smile. You have an important task ahead, the flames said, but it will be hard. I won't lie to you.

He brought himself to his feet. Somehow staring into the flames was helping him. Healing him. It burned away the haze in his mind and gave him focus. "What is it?" he asked, walking closer to the flames.

If I explained it now, you wouldn't understand, they said, but you need to be ready.

Soon the fires were just within his arm's reach, their light swirling in his eyes. "Can you help me?" he asked.

There was a long pause.

I'm sorry, they said at last. Waking you up was the best I could do.

He stood just before the flames now, basking in their light, and for the first time he realized that... nothing was burning. The forest embraced the flames, pulsing with their red-orange light. Leaves bathed in their colors, grass soaked in their glow, and the trees stood shining at the sight of their triumph. The rising sun caught beneath their leaves. Even now, so close to the flames they never burned him they were just... warm. Alluring, like the start of a tender embrace. Their heat held him close with loving arms, and in its grasp, he finally felt at peace. He felt at home. He reached out his hand, his mind lost in the vision of fire before him.

There's a great strength in you, the flames said, glowing in their familiar smile. A strength I'm willing to believe in.

All at once the fires broke off from their dance and rushed toward him, wrapping him up as they pulled him toward the orb in their core. We're out of time, they said suddenly, but I know you can do it. The orb's light was getting brighter, stronger, beckoning him in as he inched closer to it.

Find me when you return.

The flames pulled his arm within reach of the core. He stretched out his hand, bathing in its light, until at last he forced his hand through its center. The flames enveloped him and rose, erupting from the core, bursting out until their aura nearly towered among the trees, and came together as a single, perfect image. A bird made of flame. The beast spread its wings and roared, forcing light out from its form, until the forest was lost in an explosion of white.

Then, everything froze.

He found himself standing in a white and empty... room? Space? He wasn't really sure. It seemed endless. The floor was smooth like stone yet somehow, he could see through it. It was like he was standing on a sheet of glass hung out over the edge of the world. He looked down. Shit. He started to gag. He leaned over, stomach churning— and then he froze.

There was something in the corner of his eye.

He turned to his right, slowly, looking over at the blur beside him... except it wasn't a blur. It was a hole. A hole in the air next to him. He cocked his head to the side. What the hell is that? He turned his head the other way. Maybe 'hole' wasn't totally right. It was more like there was a... patch missing, revealing a bed of darkness beneath the white, or maybe— He stopped. Something's... missing? He paused again. Yes, that... that was it! Something was missing! Something here! Something important! It was hounding at him, gnawing at him, screaming at him! It wanted to be found! He had to know! He kept staring, and the longer he looked, the more his vision was drawn toward it, into it, deeper and deeper; until the white merely blurred the edge of his sight, and he was staring at a completely different space.

It was a room. This time, he was sure. Really, it was almost like a castle. Stone bricks lined the walls, larger slabs made up the floor, and the ceiling arched with a large window nearby. There was— he strained his eyes. Shit, it was hard to see here! It looked like the room was made of dust someone kept trying to blow away, making everything stream like smoke. He had to focus to keep the image clear, but it was hard, and he wasn't good at it.

Most of the room was blurred, but he could see right in front of that window, and there two figures stood. They were more like shadows, dark and unrefined, but they were people. That much he could tell. One of them was standing right in front of the window. It kept a hand and fist clasped behind its back, as it looked out past the glass into infinite blurry white. The other was just a few steps to the left, and it was starting to come closer.

"This is a waste of time Galahad," the one walking said. Its voice was like the fire's, a choir instead of just one, but it almost sounded... broken. Every voice seemed like it was trying to match some impossible pitch, low and inhuman. They were joined by a single tone bleating behind their speech, struggling to hit that same note. It gave him chills to listen.

"I didn't think that was your concern," the one by the window, Galahad, said in that same eerie voice.

"Let me rephrase that then," the other one said. "This is a waste of my time."

Galahad turned its head. "You've gotten your money, more comes after the job is done."

The other one raised a hand to its face, shaking its head. "The job is done." It waved its hand in the air. "The kid is dead—"

"Then show me the body."

The other one scoffed. "You saw what happened. How much more proof do you need?" It folded its arms. "Unless you just wanna hang the fucking thing on your wall."

Galahad said nothing.

"Fine," the other one said after a moment, "but you don't send an arbiter to collect a corpse—" The other one stopped. Galahad was right in front of its face.

"Unless that corpse is someone important," Galahad said, cocking its head to the side. "But we both know that." It took a step closer. "So instead of fishing for leverage and wasting my time, go do what I paid you to do."

Their faces still looked like a blur to him, but a silence lingered in the room. A silence... and an understanding. Galahad turned away, walking back toward the window. "If he's dead, bring the body back and take care of any evidence."

The other one, the arbiter, brought a hand behind its head and cracked its neck. "He is dead—"

"And if he's not," Galahad cut in, "then I'm sure someone of your talents can make use of this." It turned, opening its fist, and in its hand was a deep onyx rock. There was no smoke, no blurriness, he could just... see it, and it was mesmerizing.

One moment it was rough and jagged, like a fragment from a larger piece. The next it was smooth, its flaws forgotten, as if they'd only been a trick of the light— except light wasn't just coming from the window. One was inside the stone. He saw it deep beneath that ominous black. A violet glow against Galahad's form. It pulsed to the rhythm of ragged breaths and made the stone seem almost like glass, gleaming as moonlight does off the sea. Galahad tossed it to the arbiter, who caught it with one hand and held it up to its eyes.

"Don't worry," the arbiter said, its shrill choir mending together, joining into one. Now it spoke with a gruff and spiteful voice. A man's voice. Smoke fell away from the arbiter's face as he peered into the light, fading until it was just as clear as the stone. He seemed young, despite his angular face, but life was cruel, and his had left him nothing but scars. A gash, old and deep, scraped down his closed right eye, while dark lines marked the ghosts of smaller wounds. He was tanned and worn and spotted with grime, scowling beneath a mess of dark hair. His one good eye was locked onto the stone— and it was glowing, pulsing, with that same violet light. The arbiter turned and looked not toward Galahad, but toward him, as if he'd known he was standing there all along. "I'll find him."

What the fuck! He jumped away, scattering the image as he stumbled back into the white. What the hell was that? His foot tapped the clear floor. What did—

It cracked beneath him.

His stomach lurched as he fell back, tumbling out of the shattered white and into an open sky. Wind roared past him. He was barreling toward something green. The forest. The forest from before, only now those grand trees looked like twigs beneath their leaves. A sea of green rising to meet him. Shit! He needed help! He had to scream! He... he couldn't. His voice was gone. He tried again and again, but all that came out was a silent, terrified scream as he fell out of the sky and crashed hard against the forest floor.

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