A bleak and barren landscape, lifeless except for the occasional ball of flame and its encircling balls of potential. It wasn’t quite the Void, but the coloration and sense of isolation boded ill memories for Dan. He could tell it was a dream, however. The true Void was much more… exhausting.
No, Dan knew he was dreaming and that he’d soon wake up. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, he felt his dreams were dreams. Nightmares were one thing, exceptional and gangly but oddly real and even stiff in some cases. They were real in terms of his mind, in terms of his headspace.
Dreaming about the Void was not an uncommon occurrence, specifically the sensory deprivation, lack of feeling, and failure to recognize time. Thinking about it, Dan didn’t want to wake up, he didn’t want to find out that he had slept a year. Not again, never again.
The dream of getting home, of seeing his family, friends, and loved ones while the nightmare of too much time having passed got to him. Was it masochistic to dream of space? Or was it freeing?
Internally Dan knew the high priest wouldn’t break free, at least not for the time it would take to break out of the camp. The thought chilled his spine, forcing shivers through his body despite the endless cold of the scenery before him. It was time to wake up, he knew, it was time to stop resting. It was time to leave.
Dan’s eyes fluttered open then quickly squeezed closed while he groaned in shocking pain. Mentally, he cursed to himself, pushing away a golden lamp that hovered above his head. Shadows shifted in the spherical cave as the light moved, rushing in different avenues of thought for the human. The once rocky cavern was all flesh at this point, a long gone change from the grey stone.
Was the god’s domain changing? Was it expanding? Did I, or Sully for that matter, damage something?
His thoughts were drowned away by a distressing scene. Ten thousand odd hairs of madness laid motionless. They had sprouted from the muscly floor of the room like disgusting grass in a windless climate.
Or, like hair, Dan thought, his spine shaking down and out to his legs.
Not wanting to think about it anymore than he had to, he envisioned his cores and the values that represented them.
Light: Deliverance 18.71
Light: Strife 18.46
Light: Manipulate 19.22
Light: Preservation 15.08
Light: Intensity 22.11
Blood: Bestow 26.62
Blood: Intensify 12.88
Blood: Savage 1.18
Blood: Congeal .45
Dan’s eyes widened at the two new powerwords. Blood: Intensify he was already familiar with, having utilized the body-altering effects to change his speed and strength. Locking his hand against things was rather important as he had come to learn.
Blood: Savage was the blood aspect equivalent to Light: Strife, Light: War’s evolution. For some reason however, when Dan imagined the powerword within his core, his mind fell back to Lambert and the blood beast’s claw.
Blood: Congeal was as simple as it was grotesque. Control foreign blood, was all he told, although it was more than enough. The ending to the high priest and his battle came to mind, specifically forcibly moving the high priest’s hand, knocking him off balance.
Could… could I just stop someone’s blood?
Dan’s question went unanswered as light bounced along with humanoid shadows from the cave leading into the sphere of skin. While most of the cultists, if not all of them, were dead, Dan knew more than a few guards were left alive. He readied his fully regrown magic and took up an optimal ambush spot.
The being that entered didn’t even know what hit it. Dan only saw the silvery sheen of the guard’s armor before blasting the beast out of existence. What was left was unrecognizable and was quickly swallowed up by the floor with a wet slop.
Dan swallowed at the sight, a sense of urgency growing past the thoughts of murder. The cavern was still changing, still wanting blood. Whatever hellish being the god below was, it was hungry and obviously awake. It was time to leave, and Dan did so but not before one last glance at the gate of anguish.
The skeletons embedded into the red wood cried in terror, giving Dan enough of a headache to turn away. He couldn’t help them, he just… couldn’t.
The walk to the surface was as uneventful as it was heavy footed. Between the skeletons and the day’s events, he was exhausted in more ways than one. He was happy to see the camp in its twisted form, however, the mushy wake behind him being far too much.
There was an absence of guards, Dan noted, only finding slaves waiting for him outside the mine’s exit. They watched him with surprised faces and cleared eyes, something he found interestingly out of place. Then he noticed it, the madness was gone. The slaves were unaffected from their plague, but unlike within the cave, there was no evidence of hairs or tendrils.
For some reason Dan thought to thank Sully, that the old man had something to do with this bizarre reprieve.
“Where’s everyone?” someone asked.
Dan recognized the slave as the man who carved wooden tools within the camp. “Dead. Or gone, at least.”
A chatter rippled through the onlookers, “What do you mean?” someone else asked.
Shrugging, Dan spoke, “I killed a few guards and the high priest killed pretty much all the other cultists. Then, well, the high priest is somewhere else now.”
Another wave of indiscriminate talking ushered out of the group, giving Dan long enough to quickly gauge his audience. He concluded that a majority of the camp and miners were looking at him strangely, while down along the path was the rest. There he saw a few guards who were actively berating a slave for something.
They used the blunts of their weapons, smashing or pummeling the poor soul. Dan saw red, a snarl erupting across his face. Pushing past the crowd at the mine, he stormed down the mountain path, dim orbs of light floating behind his back. As he neared, the guards' shouting became audible.
“Tell us who killed him! This will all go away right now, otherwise the high priest will be notified of your insolence!”
Dan recognized the man being beaten as one of his prison cell mates. If he remembered correctly, the man lived a few rooms down from Sully’s old cell and he was one of those who sought to protect him for killing a cultist.
The situation became clear as Dan stepped up, “Are you looking for the person who killed the cultist in the golden robes?” he asked, one hand clutching desperately to his magical staff.
The downed slave’s eyes widened as he saw who spoke, a stark contrast to the guards who turned their attention in a slow, almost lazy fashion. The guards looked Dan up and down, their gazes catching on the staff before hardening.
“Where’d you get that?” one asked, posturing himself so that his weapon pointed directly at Dan.
“I guess I stole it, but that doesn’t matter much anymore.” Dan said, subtly moving his orbs to flanking positions.
“The hell it doesn’t!” one snarled. “What do you know about the family member’s death?”
“Oh, that’s simple.” The orbs brightened in color, drawing the attention of the three guards. “I killed him.”
Beams of gold showered across the camp, breaking it into threes. Winged creatures flared into existence for a short moment before slamming into their targets with practiced ease. Stunned, only one of the three guards reacted in time. The two who faltered fell apart as the creatures ripped apart their skin and soiled their insides.
The woman who was left felt her body go cold despite having deflected the attack. A drum beat within her chest, each thump echoing across and out her metal chest piece. She screamed in pain, dropping her weapon and clawing at the leather straps that held her armor together.
Then, right as she unlatched the first clasp, the pain disappeared and her body warmed up. She turned, her eyes wide and shivering in fear.
“Sorry,” Dan said, his breath labored. “I don’t appreciate the idea of torture, but I had to test my new magic out, you know?”
The woman dove for her weapon, rolling straight into a lunging sprint. Gold filled her vision a moment later, killing her momentum before digging into her chest.
Dan frowned at the sight, unhappy with the difficulty of controlling others’ blood. He shrugged, fueling his staff with healing magic. A moment later, the downed slave was eased of his pain, a moment after that his wounds disappeared completely.
The group of slaves had followed, gathering around the display of lights and murder. They looked on with different expressions of awe, some surprised, others devilishly happy. This roused something in Dan, it panged against his very soul. He liked the smiles, even the ones out for blood. Within he felt something, like a drop of turpentine against a sea of paint. His core thrilled at the sensation, easily engulfing the odd change.
A value came to his mind, along with it, ideas of glamour.
Light: Intensity 61.84
His vision snapped over, glazing against his very light hovering above the immediate area. The guiding light dimed and flicked a few times before brightening with shimmering sparks. The spell’s hue deepened, twisting into a cascade of golds and yellows. Dan raised an eyebrow at the effect.
He thought, Looks like I passed another evolution threshold-
Dan abruptly stopped his musing, finding the gathered crowd transfixed with the golden lamp. It reflected in their eyes like a pastel portrait of the sun. Some were brought to tears, others took a silent moment to pray. The moment passed and most blinked away the amazement, finding the cause for such an attraction.
Dan cowered slightly at the attention, not having experienced anything of the sort since exiting the Void. He held his cores, however, pooling enough strength and confidence to extend an invitation.
“I’m leaving,” he started with. “The high priest is gone for now, the rest of the cult is dead. I-I’m making no promises, but I’ll protect anyone who chooses to come with me to the best of my abilities.”
“Where will we go?” someone shouted.
That brought on some chatter, but Dan spoke over it, “There is a beach not too far from here. It's where I first came into this world. I came by boat and hopefully we can leave by boat.”
“But the monsters!” someone shouted at the same time someone else yelled, “Are you expecting us to make a boat?”
Dan shrugged at the questions, “We make rafts if we have to, anything is better than staying here, I’d say. And yes, there will be monsters… but I may have an idea about that.”
The group chatted for another hour. Some branched off and looked for straggling slaves, returning with them after explaining the basic plan. Others left to scout the remainder of the camp for leftover guards. Whether they were all dead or chose to hide, none were found, leaving most of the power in Dan’s hands.
A few of the slaves had taken up weapons, specifically those from the guard outpost. Armor and weapons were now commonplace among the slaves, as well as pickaxes and sharpened shovels. If the weapons were worth carrying had yet to be seen. Monsters, at least everyone Dan had encountered, were a bit above the paygrade of a simple sword.
But as he watched a slave slice a tree in half with a white energy crescent swipe from a battle axe, he changed his tune. The showing of a magical item reminded him to raid the cultist house for anything worthwhile. As if the high priest had left a cruel prank, as soon as he touched the main door, his hand melted against the wooden frame.
He cursed, stepping back, bringing forth the power of his improved magic. His hand quickly scabbed over, new skin forming below the hardened layer, and with a defiant blow he blasted the door with enough magic to shred the dome. Runes and glyphs flared to life around the attack, blocking all semblance of Dan’s greed.
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With a frown he trudged back to the group defeated but ready to go.
“Everyone ready?”
“Yes,” a woman named Zesmic said. She had become the de facto leader of the slaves in a very short time, practically running the escape party for Dan. “Some only wish for you to cut open the dome, however. They say they will take their chances alone.”
“As long as they know what they are getting themselves into,” Dan replied, knowing that some of the camp’s residents were monsters in their own rights. Set with weapons and provisions, he knew some may be safer surviving by themselves than with a growing group.
“Is this everyone?” Dan asked next.
“No, but they will meet us at the dome. They are setting the last of the flames.” Zesmic spoke after counting those gathered. “Sixty four not including those wishing to separate.”
Slowly the group made their way to the edge of the camp, the white sheen of the dome raising far above their heads.
“What about those too far gone to travel?” Dan asked.
The question caused a bit of a stir within those listening. “Its weird,” Zesmic said. “Everyone was able to respond to our plan, even those that were nothing more than husks yesterday.”
Dan held his tongue with a response or theorized answer, but he knew this was due to the “dead” madness. Why this occurred was a question he knew he would never have answered, although he wouldn’t doubt that Sully – or whatever powered Sully – had a hand in it.
He only shrugged at the odd behavior before raising his staff high above his head. Envisioning freedom, Dan allowed his soul to sing. A light reminiscent of an eagle took to life and rushed headlong at the constriction dome. It collided with the barrier in a shower of light before flattening like a bubble of smoke. The golden light washed over the area, melting the dome in a powerful showing. A rectangle of light snapped into the missing section, blocking the regenerating dome like a window or cutout doorway.
While Dan didn’t have to make breaking the dome into a show, he recognized the slaves, as well as himself, needed something positive to remember about this accursed place.
“All ready?” he asked the group after half stepping out.
The question marked a blaze of heat as a showing of fire erupted from within the camp. Like an endless hunger, the fire quickly overtook the most centralized buildings before spreading to the surroundings. Only the cultist building went unaffected, a miniature dome having appeared to protect the vile building.
The fires also communicated to those wishing to travel solo it was time to leave. Only six left, each quickly spreading into different directions and disappearing within the cover of darkness, blood rain, and overgrown brush.
“Okay everyone, remember the plan,” Dan said, causing the group to scrunch together.
All at once, the slaves destined to work for infernal cultists left their chains and ventured out into uncertain freedom. They huddled together under a dimmed golden light and walked through the Blood Rains. Despite being soaked to the bone with blood and their worlds filled with the deathly smell of iron, they could still hear the roars of life behind them.
They created distance from the monsters and heat, each member of the group silently praying that the fires held the attention of anything wishing to bring them harm. Once the forest returned to a cold desolate graveyard, Dan extended his magical influence.
The trick was straining, but with the hope of sixty others on his shoulders, he fought through the headaches. His plan was simple, warning lights. Three orbs of gold were each sent to the furthest reaches of his power within a triangle formation. They acted as dummy targets, easily allowing Dan to know if monsters were nearby and allowing the group to move elsewhere. As he had learned, anything flashy or bright brought upon the wraith and hunger of the forest dwellers.
After a few close calls, the group made it through the forest without seeing a single battle. Although Dan had to recreate nine different warning lights.
A collective sigh of relief sprung from the group as they reached the first signs of sand. A few broke down in elated sobs when they could see the water, more when they exited the Blood Rains.
Dan took a moment to collect himself. He thought of Bob and George and their shredded lifeboat from so long ago. Idly scanning his eyes along the shoreline, he wondered if they had come out of the forest anywhere near the beached vessel.
He stopped cold when he saw a boat. Not his boat, not his lifeboat, but rather a metal ship. A cruiser, a cruiser flying a flag consisting of white and red stripes, a blue rectangle, and fifty white stars.
The sight brought tears to his eyes, even after five spotlights lit up the beach where the group stood. If anything, his smile increased. The cruiser had seen them, they were saved… right?
Right?
A low boom made Dan drop his smile. He watched the water around the ship ripple from the shockwave as a projectile blasted from a cannon. The projectile shell wrapped high into the air before popping at the tip of its apex. A light rivaling his own exploded into a hail of smaller forms, brightening the eternal night sky into artificial day.
Dan’s eyes widened and he quickly spun to the hesitant group. “Quick! Drop your weapons and hold your hands up like this! These are my people!”
He threw up his hands in surrender, only he didn’t drop his wooden staff. A wave of mimicry befell the group along with the dull thud of metal hitting sand. The group stood in fearful silence, everyone’s hands high above their head.
Dan, however, formed and executed a spell. It was nothing more than freeform manipulation from Light: Deliverance, but the effects were nothing less than hopeful. Above the group, cast in shining gold, three letters stood proud and tall.
SOS.
Nothing happened for a long reluctant minute but something gnawed in the back of Dan’s brain. The light from the flares was bothersome and would create a monster problem sooner than later. He kept his attention split on the forest and ship, finding the processes much easier than he had assumed. Actually, Dan found that he always had watched the forest, he kept his senses within the bloody rains like he had duplicate eyes and ears.
The realization confused him, when had he started-
“The sand,” a familiar voice said beside him.
Dan jolted in shock, his head whipping over to the flickering elderly form of Sully. The man kept his gentle smile despite twitching in and out of reality. His eyes were locked to a small mound of sand, one that looked unassuming and-
“Hello!” Dan shouted to the mound in English. “Hello! I’m American, hello! I know you are there! Can you help us? My name is Dan, these are refugees!”
With the declaration out in the air, Dan stole a moment to look at his friend. The elderly man gave another smile before fading away. Something, however, caught his eyes in the distance. Far down the shore, standing partially in the salty water, was the younger form of Sully. The false man wore a deep frown, his head crooked and wrong.
Swallowing, movement beside the group pulled Dan’s attention. All at once, five mounds of sand stood up revealing human forms in a waterfall of dry camouflage and displaced sand. They held heavy rifles and blinding flashlights. The sudden appearance caused a few surprised screams as the group of former slaves shifted in fear.
“Everything is fine!” Dan shouted. “They are just making sure we are safe… right? Hello?”
One of the soldiers shouted back, “Identify yourself!”
“Dan Walton! Electrician for Hybrine Drilling!”
The five went silent as communications bounced back and forth through radio waves. At this point, the primary light from the above flare had started dying out, leaving the beach only lit by the cruiser’s spotlight and the soldiers’ flashlights. Still, Dan watched the forest for movement, even though his eyes were glued to the current situation.
“Dan Walton is dead,” the squad leader said.
“What do you need for me to prove it?” Dan pleaded. “I-I arrived here with a man named George, I don’t know his last name, and a man who gave us the name Bob. H-he worked for some hidden organization that decided to check out the rig! We were all on the same helicopter to the rig! Please, you’ve got to believe me!”
Again, a silent conversation happened between those in uniform. “Are these two with you?”
Dan’s shoulders slumped. “No, both are dead. We left George’s body in the lifeboat. And, well, Bob died shortly after we entered the forest—”
A few of the slaves had lowered their hands, each gearing up to grab their weapons. A soldier saw this, posturing his rifle to a killing angle. “Stop!” the soldier shouted. “Hands in the air.”
Dan whirled at the commotion, repeating the order in an alien language. “Please, they don’t mean us any harm… At least not yet. But I won’t let it come to that.”
The soldiers watched the group sooth somewhat. “You speak their language,” the lead soldier said.
“Yes. Adapt or die,” Dan said colder than he intended. “Look, we’ve all been held as slaves. This place is not safe, there are things out there—”
“Oh, we know. But we have weapons, you have swords. You surviving nearly two years does not make sense. We’ve seen things that impersonate and trick before. Who are you, Dan Walton?”
“Do you think I’m trying to trick you?” Dan asked, his core coming to life. “Can you not tell that I’m one of you? That I’m human? You all have cores, right? What is it telling you—”
The statement was cut off as Dan felt something within the trees. He spun, reading his staff while shouting that something was coming. The slaves spun as well, squeezing together as a golden orb of light undimmed itself from around their ankles. It took to the air, hovering above the group like one of the three stars in the sky above.
Together, the soldiers broke formation, retreating closer to the waterline and dropping into a prone position. They flipped up bipods and looked through specialized scopes. A wide range of colors appeared through their expensive sights, each color representing a different body temperature. They scanned everyone, noting a few of the slaves had odd body temperatures. However, something deep into the forest showed enough color to cause commotion.
The leader soldier called for use of their weapons as the color within the forest rushed towards the beach. They postured, ready to mow down the group before them if it meant they could slay the beast charging their position.
Without warning, the beach darkened as the cruiser drifting out in the ocean shut off its spotlights. Dan cursed at the sudden change, but also saw a chance. He yelled for everyone to lay down while casting away his ball of gold.
Isolated, Dan increased his magic’s brightness as the monster broke the tree line. It b-lined for the orb, a trail of bloody footsteps following in its wake. It took the dexterous form of a mutated panther made of vomit and rotting meat. It pounced on the ball, engulfing it with a mouth of razors.
Then the monster exploded, a bird of gold having drilled through its chest cavity.
A silent order went through the ear pieces of the soldiers, one they acted upon. The leader removed her helmet allowing her tightly braided black hair to breathe. She stepped forward, weapon to the side and trusting in her men to have her back.
“Dan Walton,” she said, a safe distance away from the odd human. “We have been given permission to take you with us if you can answer one question. Was that you who just killed that thing?”
Dan eyed the woman, something nagging him in the back of his mind. “Yes…”
“Then come with us.”
“What about them?”
“What about them?” the woman echoed.
“You will take them all in, right?” Dan asked, his tone dropping.
“No, only you are permitted.”
Dan shook his head, recalling his orb to above the group. “That’s not happening. They are all refugees. Each like me, each held as slaves. Please, you have to take them all. They have nothing left out here.”
The woman hesitated as her commanders spoke over the issue. Eventually she spoke, “D-do those monsters not scare you?”
Dan squinted at the woman. “No,” he said confidently. “Not anymore. They are just like me, just like us. People, they are people. Broken and different, sure, but not any worse than you or me. Please, they will be my responsibility.”
The beach went silent as a single spotlight flicked back on. It stayed focused, only brightening the group of former slaves. Somewhere within the metal jungle of the offshore ship, a decision was made.
“Fine,” the woman said, repeating her superior’s command. “But they do not cross until each and every one of you can be vetted.”
“Cross?” Dan asked.
“The boundary back to Earth.”
Slowly Dan nodded, something trying to pull his attention. “I feel I need to add a caveat to this.”
“Go on,” the woman said, her hand twitching slightly.
“If any harm comes to them, anything unethical or despicable, just know that I will hunt those involved down and slaughter them.”
The statement was spoken with a certainty and power that froze the five soldiers. Each one of them believed what their cores told them: that the man before them was indeed Dan Walton. However, their cores also screamed warning. None of them could get a proper judgment of his power, even their leader who had the most developed core among the troop.
The sweat dripping down the napes of their necks spoke of certainty. They all knew, in their heart of their hearts that the man before them was serious with his threat even though it seemed far fetched and impossible. Their locked-up muscles and increased heart rates called for a change of opinion, however.
Honestly, they each thought they should put the monster before them down, but also knew they would refuse the order if it came down to it. They were nothing in the wake of Dan Walton, the fear and dread the man created was something entirely new. So when their commanders gave the order to have the entire group return to the ship, it came as no surprise.
The association would never give up the chance to study something so miraculous.
“Alright Dan Walton, your wishes have been heard loud and clear. Nothing will happen to your friends, I can guarantee it,” the leader spoke.
“Good,” he said before explaining the situation to the group of former slaves.
In the end, Dan was able to convince all sixty four to come along with him, stating that he was sure that they were not going to force them into slavery. That alone changed the atmosphere of the group, a few smiles forming at the idea of actual help. Some held their worries close, however, not wanting their frail emotions to be broken once again.
Boarding the ship was an event in and of itself, but after a few hours everyone was housed on the cruiser’s main deck within a containment tent. A few medics braved the appearances of the newcomers, but quickly retreated with stomachs that felt like they were flipping inside out. They were guarded at all times, even Dan who had been stripped of his wooden staff and searched.
As the long day finally ended, Dan was left alone for the first time since stepping out of the camp. He, of course, had a shadow carrying a rifle, but that was beside the point. There was no one that needed his attention at that moment, whether it be slave or soldier.
The shoreline slowly passed by as the cruiser sailed up and down a section of the infinite-seeming beach. A presence brought him out of his inner dialog, however. Dan recognized it instantly as the kidnapper’s, the thing that took Sully’s mind and spirit.
The presence rushed through the ship, going unnoticed except for the one it stalked. Dan rushed across the water, stopping just before the sand. It materialized a moment later, taking the form of a young Sully.
“Chilling, isn’t he,” a voice said from Dan’s side.
“I was wondering when you’d show up again,” Dan said to the apparition of Sully. “Was that you who killed the madness?”
“Kill" is an overstatement. More like paused.”
“Well, regardless, you saved us a lot of heartache. I don't think I would have been able to leave those too far gone to a fiery hell.”
Sully gave his friend a soft smile, “I’m glad I could help, even in this form. Be wary, however, my double does not wish for the same thing as I.”
Dan eyed the wrinkled man. “And what do you want?”
“For you to free me.”
Dan scoffed. “And who are you?”
“You haven’t figured it out?” Sully asked, his smile never faulting.
“I think I have, but I just don’t want to admit it.” Dan sighed. “Shall I call you by your name? B’hithazad?”
Sully laughed. “Please, no. That is not my true name, nor one I respond to. Just call me as you have been… Although I guess that name works for that thing out there.”
Dan followed his friend’s gaze, finding the younger version wading against the rough waves. “So are you really a god in that case?”
“What do you think?”
Dan thought for a long minute. “No,” he finally said. “I think you are something far more confusing.”
Sully gave one last smile before fading away. “Confusing like a single thought?”
“Yeah, like that,” Dan said to the empty air.
A new presence caused Dan to twirl. A decent distance away was the soldier following him, however a woman soldier was stalking up to him.
“Who are you talking to?” she asked.
“Just myself,” Dan answered. “What can I do for you?”
Shaking her head, she spoke, “I’ve been ordered to be the liaison between you and your… group. My entire troop, in fact.”
Dan held out his hand. “Dan Walton.”
She matched the gesture despite her gut telling her to run. “Association Tro—”
“Association Troop Leader Aisha Lowe,” Dan answered for her. “Blood type O positive. Truthfully I wasn’t expecting to see you ever again.”
Aisha stared at him with deadly eyes. “How—”
“I’m sorry I didn’t try to save you,” Dan spoke over, the memory of the woman before him slipping into the mouth of the beast in his forethought. “It won’t happen again.”
She twitched, something snapping in her mind. Blood trickled out of her nose as her head reared back in a rough thrash. Behind, the guard readied his weapon, speaking into his radio. A shaky hand stopped him, however.
“Don’t,” Aisha ordered, turning back to Dan. “Why do I remember you? Why did I dream about you?”
“Not sure, other than the simple answer that the dream was more than a dream.” Dan answered with a flare of magic. He slowly held out a glowing palm, waiting for his patient to give consent. Gently he touched her forehead, nose, and throat, healing all of the damage.
“I suggest taking a nap. These kinds of headaches can be pretty terrible,” Dan said, walking away, his shadow following.
Aisha watched him go, thinking to herself, He let me die.