The screams, for however long they had been happening, still filled the air after all that time later. They were more than just ailments in the wind though, as August had long abandoned his resolve of not looking down.

Thus, he’d see them all, one stacked another, old, young, none better than the one before. His journey wouldn’t be impeded though, even if—after waning through a river’s worth of bloods, bones and guts—he was going nowhere.

Along that journey though, as he had lost his warmth a distance before, the lights in his eyes would dim. He’d look to the sky in his time of crisis, not for hope, but to avoid drowning in the sea of people around him. In the middle of watching them all fall though, as despair crept back in, so did innovation. If they weren’t going to help him, he’d conquer them.

He'd assume a stride through the red sea, blood almost in his eyes as he approached one of the stark giants. He’d reach for it, and to most, it would have been nothing, but to him, it was more than enough.

His bloody hands stained the thing, and he’d feel, even see the grooves through the crimson. He needed no convincing. The boy slotted his rugged nails against the groves above him, thus, in one swift cracking motion, he pulled himself from the marsh.

He’d have to shake off some unsavory organic constructs, including splintered nails, but that was nothing but blood under the bridge.

Hesitation might have returned with desire, but it would have long drowned. Thus, despite his body seeking to cast him back down with tears, breaks and fractures, he didn’t stop. If he was indeed human, and indeed equal to those that were cast down, then it was all fine.

In all his time watching them, he’d come to see them for what they were, human, replaceable, useless. Thus, as he climbed, he clung to that thought. He was only human, replaceable, useless, as such, there was no point to it all, ‘not even the pain, not even the pain.’

He'd eventually usurp the apex of the construct, though relief was never a thing offered by such a place. Thus, as he arrived, he’d witness a scene that inspired no awe, even in all of its twisted glory.

The first oddity was the floor, there was none, yet he didn’t fall into the swirling black smog below. As for what was atop it, a grand ball, of statues, or rather, they were so still, covered in fine cloths, faces hidden behind broken and fractured masks of diamonds and other gems, that they seemed to be statues.

They weren’t completely lost still, as all their eyes wandered to fall on the intruder. They stood in a circle, thirteen of them, no one an odd distance from the other, all facing one central figure. It was a bottle, empty, though they still held glasses, and those were full, but not of wine or brandy, but of sorrow.

He could see it, the wallowing grays and pitiful magentas. As for the detail I’ve neglected to mention; they were all hollow. As if split down the middle, back from front, there was nothing inside them. There was another detail still, trails of blood from their emptiness to the edges.

The blight had spread further than there still, and though they seemed to differ, most were the same. There was always something at the center of the circle, no matter how big or small, whether money, drugs, technology or even idols.

There was one diamond amongst the rough though, a lamb, its throat slit, surrounded by seven wounded people. They were all whole still, and as for what was beneath them, a warm glow.

It would all crumble nonetheless, as he had witnessed it all, and there was deeper to go, more to lose. The world would break at its seams, not that it was solid to begin with, but, it shattered like glass yet it flowed like water. It would all be washed away, the filth of the lost, the buildings, the sky, all of it.

As such, August found himself submerged in impossible depths yet again, but it wasn’t so fascinating anymore. The darkness, it was black, even with those eyes, no, especially with those eyes.

In truth, it wasn’t just black, it was darker than black, it was an abyss, a chasm of condensed sorrow, the heart of humanity, nary a burst of desire in sight. As for the boy’s condition, the place was putrid, and the depths were suffocating, a pain in his chest as he drowned.

He’d stare off into the blind infinity, awaiting an inevitable future, because if he was to be saved from his plight, his suffering would have long ceased. Thus, he wasn’t rescued from his condition, but he was saved from his weakness, both physical and abstract.

In the void, he witnessed a light brighter than the sun, the moon and the stars. Yet, he couldn’t discern it, even as his eyes scoured it. It told him of all the universe’s secrets, those of the soul, the body, the mind, space, time, all of it. It would end as soon as it had begun though. Then, moments later, how long yet still impossible to know, Death came a calling with open arms.

She dragged the lad deeper, the bog no longer putrid, but for all the wrong reasons, even if knowable. The dives were a process, one to have the subject removed from themselves and their identity.

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As such, there was one thing that was essential to lose for any person, as if they themselves could tell, so could the ideas of abstraction. Thus, as he was being dragged deeper into the depths, he himself begun to melt, to fade.

He was forced to watch as his skin dissolved, his muscles liquefy, his bones turn to dust, and his heart explode into a million tiny fleshy bits. It feigned a trice, but in truth, the place was never so merciful.

As long as he had lived and watched himself grow, that was as long as it took to devour him. He spent years watching himself die, but knowing why it was happening, he accepted it. Thus, as the last slither of him faded, August Rosavault died alone in that darkness. He was a disembodied conscious, floating in the void, his body a colorful floating mist around him, but it was done, and it was time for him to return to the material world.

Death loved no one still, not even August, she was only attending to an errand after all, a favor to a friend. As such, when it came time to reunite the floating fragment of humanity with his body, her archaic means and their consequences meant nothing to her, even if he could still feel.

She was fine, and that’s all that mattered, even as she pulled him to a singularity to eject him back to his time. She knew too, that he had to be put back together before remerging, but surely, he’d figured it out.

His bits would be churned back together with no regard for his senses. As if he was being fed through a wood chipping machine an inch at a time. He felt blades churn through his flesh and needles pierce him as he burned alive passing through the singular point, and by the time he was

It was only a recollection of the past though, and a tame one at that, as his sister only experienced slight stings, though she was no idiot. The thought of truly going through that inspired panic in the child, even as she hid inside of her brother’s shadow.

As for the result of careless actions, the state of August. He was like a jigsaw puzzle, all the pieces put together, but in all the wrong places. He found veins missing or misplaced, his arteries on the outside spilling his blood, bones, organs and appendages protruding from the fleshy pile he was. It was all still connected too, through his mind and experiences. Thus, all the pain persisted even with severed nerves and an abominable twisted and broken form.

The event wasn’t one sided either, May rediscovered a memory as she witnessed the debauchery for a second time. In fact, she dusted off a few, ones she herself had not put upon the shelves of her mind, yet, they were there.

She could almost see it, the weight in her heart. A day hadn’t passed without her visiting that room, the one her brother never left. The one that caused her parents to go and never return.

She’d stare at it, that charred spot, as if waiting for something, day after day, month after month, year after year as it got further away, yet, she could only pray. It was her only comfort, as all her bed held were puddles as she stayed up all those sleepless nights.

As for the beaches, roars of a past she could never return to, careless prancing and splashes lined with laughter. The streets of sky reaching buildings defined by her brother’s smile, his fascinations with the things all she had ever cared to remember about them. All she had ever sculpted, painted, all that they, had ever sculpted and painted holding the faces of her parents. There was no escape, not even in empty halls.

It had become a routine of sorts, her visit to the place, and the same could be said for her prayers. Thankfully, that crude cycle would spin out of motion and spiral into something of an answer to her endless cries.

That spot, that same bronze char with an undertone of blood—the scent no longer fresh in the room but a memory filling the air still—it would erupt. At first she blinked, for it was a hallucination, but then reality refused to bow to her delusions of grandeur.

It rippled like water’s surface, before, like a waterspout, it exploded spilling out guts, blood, organs and bone. The worst part though, was that it seemed deliberate, and the thing seemed whole, though broken.

Even as it spilled out aside, water, black sludge and severed flesh, it seemed one in the same. The scene gave her no more hope than it did confusion still, and it wouldn’t help when the thing moved.

It was a blob before, but as it stood, the ambiguity of all those layered bloody masses would separate. It was humanoid, humanity was still a stretch out of reach though.

It had no skin, and most of it seemed like only misplaced muscle and bone, but with time, it was becoming more ‘human’. A steam like mist would rise form the thing as its bones snapped into place and pools of blood spilled from its various wounds.

Yet, it did not waver in its conviction to move forward. It saw its goal, a taller and different looking girl, but a sister nonetheless. It was still in no condition to be welcomed though, and the caretakers would take a stand to protect her.

The thing only recognized one of them of being kept alive for such a blunder though. Thus, as those feats of technology wrapped around them to make suits, with a wave of his hand, August reduced the larger caretaker to a blood stain on the wall. As for what he himself saw, or rather, chose to see through all that red, his hand was back to normal.

He'd try to clasp his fist, but it wouldn’t quite respond, still, he had more important things to do. The other caretaker, instead of mounting an assault, seemed to understand the situation and provided herself a barricade between the two.

If she was right, it was an idea, and perhaps, there was no winning, but she wouldn’t allow the girl to be brutalized before her. Thankfully, even as her heart mounted a cavalcade around her, she would see the truth amidst the mist.

A twisted and misshapen face made to be proportionate again, a crimson eye staring into her. Thus, her legs would finally give in, no longer having to feign strength. The thing was much the same, all that it could conjure with such a body, finished.

The two slumped on the floor were not the only ones who seemed to realize though, as May would begin her approach with empty eyes. The thing would meet her where she was, with its eyes at least, and she knew those eyes, even if they too were emptier than before.

Thus, she was the last to fall, all that strength she had forced over those many years crumbling with a crutch returned. She fell to her knees, and taking hold of the thing’s face, her brother’s face, she watched as he returned. She’d rest her forehead against his, the only language they knew in that moment. The only language she was sure he’d understand.