The shock of coldness that attacked his skin, woke him up with a start.

"Hm.." He found that it was a late hour in the day. Perhaps he had too much 'fun', he thought. Agreeing to go drinking... having a feast with stolen money, returning and then getting into a bar fight, only to then die by collateral damage... though his new body was quite sturdy, even if still transformed a little bit. He didn't manage to save the other vessels' body or flesh from perishing, but at least he had a body left... somewhat. He got a clean cut through his chest, the ribs cleaved in half with a knife. A single knife... much alike the power of the sword that lay there, staring at Zabulus with its sharp glare of silver steel, wielded in a threatening stance as if daring him to attack the young man who was sitting down with the weapon. It couldn't have been older than a few centuries at best, according to the memory of Aeneus. That knife had nearly the exact same properties... except way weaker.

What was it with this land? Or was it the void in blue itself that created the impossible out of nothingness? Zabulus needed to see a certain someone, he wouldn't need a talk with Aeneus now, not that he could anyways, he was dead. But one with another human, a unique specimen. It'd give him enough of an excuse to get some answers or perhaps confirm a theory or two...

But even then, he wasn't fully in control of when to see within his soul or not. Was it due to this snow directly from Hell? Zabulus had the idea, since it didn't look quite 'human' as it could have appeared as, maybe if it were another of the many versions of the world, something similar, another iteration... and if he had access to more information, then maybe this soul could do a bit more...

But for that to happen, there was only one soul he'd need, and only one thing that could come to his mind.

A visit back home... but how?

An answer for an answer.

Something like that.

Then, the doorway to the world opened up again...

It looked just like his old home. The glass house, the red grass, the small island-planetoid he lived on... where he watched everyone from within his little barrier for two thousand years, hidden and alone. With nothing but his self and his thoughts to occupy himself with. Then, that being... appeared.

"A dying star, is that what you wish to be?" A silhouette told him, the words were not exact, but that's what they were. A silhouette of short stature and her hair... straight as a needle that it almost stood up... as well as her skin tone, pale white, contrasting the dark sun that lay above, her hair lay draped over her slender shoulders, stopping halfway to her ankles. She had such ugly, dead eyes and a non-existent face. Nothing would make her look like a dead or living human anymore. What she was, was akin to what Zabulus himself was.

At that moment it all made sense to him, but he was afraid. Afraid of this creature, whether this be a memory or hallucination. This creature... it's a creation. Its soul is one from the past, or a creation. If so, this means she was also a product of this realm. She came from someplace else, or never really existed, even when he knew he might have been one of the last of his kind—albeit unsure, she was definitely a creation of this place and not just a copy. It wasn't a memory, because that would have meant someone knew about a glimpse in time, but she wouldn't have known he'd have this encounter or could change things and use his own knowledge to her advantage.

None of this had any logic to it, was he going mad? Or was this reality playing tricks on him... that too, was an oddity. There's no such thing as reality anymore, or the afterlife. This void—his so-called 'soul' has created this false 'world'. So... this is what's happening. How would his own memories have an effect on this place, if it's all made up and constructed?

Her lips moved... no. Was she speaking?

"A dying star, is that what you wish to be?" She repeated.

"I... don't understand." He replied

The girl's eyes widened, turning to black orbs. It took everything he had not to turn away from her face, and the dark holes that now made her look even more deranged than she already did before. She walked closer to Zabulus as he froze in place, perhaps due to fear, perhaps due to not being in total control, perhaps... maybe even both.

"Your fate will be determined in the blink of an eye. Your future depends on your choices now, it will depend on these choices throughout this phantom life of yours, you don't really control everything... Does this sound correct?"

"Yeah, of course it does. The stars, the moons and the sun, none of this is mine... all of it are puppets, the creatures below, and you." He forced a smile whilst nodding. He couldn't tell if he was agreeing or disagreeing with her, she spoke so slowly, it was infuriating. "You're all just a byproduct of I... even now. The only one who was not was my own mother... that's why I—have yet to meet her."

"Your mother did not pass on. Instead, her life essence is what will bring upon the ending of the worlds. In the last days... once she has met you, or the worlds fall apart from a lack of will, this reality shall crumble."

"You are me... y-you know nothing of what's to come. Don't be absurd, no matter how accurate this meeting may be." He stood his ground, denying the claim with everything he had left.

"No, you are me." The creature—that thing, even it would probably deny such an out-of-place statement, such a hollow, empty response. Why can't the vessel express a little more humanity? Maybe that's too much of an oxymoron, it couldn't have felt an ounce of sorrow as much as it cannot even resemble what emotion is supposed to be.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

"W-What do you mean?!" Zabulus raised a hand, placing it on his left eyesocket.

"If it were just her life, if she had died, that would be the end, the creation of the worlds would not have ended until the last second of the creator's creator. Once that second was finished... then so too, will it be time to move forward from the beginning, thus a new stage can unfold with your current path, allowing an exit."

He shook, the pressure building up inside of his lungs.

"You are only a being, Zabulus. What you have yet to become, is everything you need to be." Like a snake emerging out of a cage. She coils her limbs around his neck. Squeezing, holding him. She wraps him.

"Let... me, let me... go..! Damn you... damn... self.....!"

"Your breath leaves this shell, and the world will collapse into ruin, your breath is a thread to life. Should a being touch it, there will be consequences for the ones involved." The being speaks not once. But twice and three times. Then four. Then five.

"Farewell, my son... you'll never escape here."

He was scared. The entity stared at him. She spoke in the voice of his mother that he was so familiar with... his soul wavering for but a moment— a moment where he felt the surrounding world as if it wasn't him. As if he was dreaming, and his nightmare wasn't actually occurring at that very second... or any other... ever... ever again.

"F-fool!..." The nightmare ends. He can hear his breath and his heartbeat, but still, he keeps yelling at nothing. "I am the creator of this world! You will not condemn me to anything! You are nothing but a ghost of an entity whose only role was to look after the life around you, but who went and destroyed the only place she held dearly! Now, show yourself!"

The glass door in front of him burst apart and a beam of pure light shone.

To kill it, to kill the light. His greatest fear, he realized. Yet, he had done it.

"Show yourself! If not, I will do as my heart and mind tells me and slaughter every part of this soul that holds me back!"

An image of a being resembling himself stared back at Zabulus, a bright white streak running across his non-existing black eyes.

It stood in the light, a stark contrast to the darkness of his skin which cursed him to so many others. Its pupils dilate, a flash of white enters his vision and he shivers in its wake. A cloud of cold air.

The being stepped closer, its body shimmering as if under water, its long, wavy and flowing locks of black hair, which reached beyond its head and further past its spine, and no less a mix between dark, raven black and that white streak, spread about the color pallet, ending below the creature's eyes—although those dark eye sockets would have seemed a much better alternative at first glance. No, it was too white, even for a natural occurrence... It had been tinted the slightest of shades of gray, almost like a nothingness that was shaped into some sort of bland existence. Its figure stood out, the entire being glowed red for a brief moment, highlighting all the contours and shadows perfectly and even in its white light, showing its chest was hollowed out with no actual internal organs present, there were only a few strands of veins that kept its being together as it walked with limp arms and a hunchback towards Zabulus, one step at a time.

As if expecting for a long period of time, its arms and hands had stretched themselves to its utmost capabilities, resulting in an uncomfortable amount of strain on its bones and muscles. A red streak across its abdomen was even more visible through its lower region, showing a patchwork pattern on top of its right hip and thigh. But despite its decrepit features, its upper body had surprisingly broad shoulders. In addition, the entirety of this being's thighs and calves seemed to be enveloped in muscle that flexes every time the entity moved, as did its chest and jawline. This thing... it just couldn't be him.

It was more of a Frankenstein's monster—a corpse pieced together than something akin to a creature from this realm.

It spoke sixteen words, twenty three syllables, in five seconds, "I—You—We—It. Eternities will be eternal. I will exist within you. You are doomed."

A chill ran down his spine as the sentence registered inside his brain. "Y-O-U A-R-E M-E." The horror, O the horror.

"You cannot hide within your world and live with the knowledge. If I were to disappear..."

"What are you?" Zabulus asked.

"What are we?" It replied. It looked up to the sky and the swirling star above, "You, we, it are all we. In fact, if I, if you, or I, it cannot continue forward, our reality will soon disappear. Our last moments will not be filled with thoughts of anger and spite, but without emotions and love. It will be without meaning, however, meaning is what gave us life, what made us, you. If we don't have that anymore, then what was the point, is this existence meaningless?"

It spoke words that couldn't quite fit together yet, it didn't make enough sense or didn't help create any narrative whatsoever, he understood however what it meant to tell him. His inner consciousness told him it was all meaningless, an explanation that his soul had given him that meant something like: "You will die, we will die, everything will die." And so it would, this conversation was not real anyways, not truly a representation of being.

"But it is real. I am within you, you are within me. We—All of us make each other—the end result is inevitable, the beginning is inevitable."

So, he believed.

Yet he could feel the horror and pain, the misery. And all the questions that should have come. But they did not. No questions ever came.

Why did he accept the explanation? Is it that simple? Why was he—They so willing to understand the concept that their bodies were not real, and it would be best for them to disappear. What are the benefits of doing so? Why was everyone and everything going against the natural order of things? What is the purpose of life? What are souls? Do the spirits know anything else than their own beliefs?

"You already understand the concepts within this reality. It is that simple. There's no way for anyone to explain it properly. Only you can understand it yourself, for you are the world itself."

He shook his head, "No... but, my mother; she—she's the origin! I know it! I just need to return to my home and find her! Find her and kill her before she gets to my future selves. Then the cycle is over. There is no need to make my 'soul' get confused... or anything."

The being laughed, it found it humorous and absurd that he assumed it did not know the entire truth, "■■■■■."

"...? What is that?

"Have you not known your birth? Have you never taken a single moment to think it over, that all is possible with but a single choice?"

Words to be said... a prophecy, was it?