A soft, arid wind tickled Sepeti’s nose. The morning sun peeked down on him, warming his mostly broken bones. Sand surrounded him, soft sand that he was slowly sinking into as he woke out of his slumber. A pleasant heat radiated from the sand, gradually warming him.

Something with many legs crawled up his injured arm. The thing tickled his battered arm as it crawled up and up, sliding under the torn sleeve of his shirt. His groggy mind refused to rouse. Hundreds, thousands, maybe millions of tiny feet skimmed across his bruised skin. But he couldn’t move, couldn’t bring himself to address the niggling annoyance. He felt beyond enervated, beyond exhausted.

The thing with many legs crawled down his pudgy stomach, eliciting a mumbled giggle. The feeling of the feet grew as he soon felt them all over his body. Something crawled up the inside of his thigh, something else bit the chitinous cast he’d made for himself, still something else coiled itself around his good ankle. Whatever these things were, they were settling in. The feeling spread to his face as he felt antennae lightly feeling around his cheeks.

The things weren’t heavy. They moved lightly, adding to the itching sensation as they appeared to purposely avoid exerting too much pressure on his body.

Sepeti sneezed as a misting of fine sand billowed past. The milling creatures sped up, rushing away from him as he moaned from the pain of consciousness. Mostly, he moaned from the pain of having a busted face. The aching settled in. Everything hurt, especially his leg. The throbbing in his arm grew in intensity as his senses slowly returned. He tried to open his eyes but found them caked with something. Probably blood and snot, if he had to guess. And lots of bruising.

His tongue scraped against the inside of his mouth, feeling grittier than the sand he was mired in. Most of his front teeth were missing. He would have opened his mouth but he was pretty sure his jaw was broken, what with the incredibly dull ache and the way his teeth didn’t quite line up.

Rolling over wasn’t an option. It hurt too much to move. His leg ached, his back ached, his arm ached. Everything ached. With his good hand, he reached out and opened his pocket dimension. The neutral coolness of the subspace felt good as his hand dipped out of existence for a moment. He’d taken for granted how useful his little dimension could be since it was always available to him. For mundane stuff, anyway. Pulling out his weapons was another matter.

He fished out the flask, reassured by its weight. Water rained down on his face as he upended the magical tool. He let it run down his dry lips, wash over his caked nose and eyes. The sand quickly turned to cool mud as he continued to waterboard himself. He let the water trickle up his nose before expelling it forcefully. The pain was excruciating but the feeling of expelling clogged blood and mucus was almost worth it. Almost. He had to be careful not to blow something out, he was pretty sure that was a possibility. He should have paid more attention back when he was learning about inane medical stuff.

Sepeti sat up, groaning as every movement ached. He continued to let the water flow. A small puddle quickly formed around him but he couldn’t be bothered. The fog that muddled his mind had yet to lift. There was a high possibility he had a concussion. If that was the case then his blackout probably hadn’t done him any favors. Everything swam, even with his eyes closed.

He pulled his pants open and let the water soak his lower extremities. It was refreshingly cool as everything down there tightened. He sucked in a deep breath between the opening in his teeth as he steeled himself for what he needed to do. For the second time in however long it had been, he was going to be attempting to set his own injuries.

Sepeti closed the flask, set it in the muddy puddle between his legs, then reached up and took hold of his lower jaw. He didn’t know what he was doing but he knew it needed doing. He pulled to the right, pain exploding in his foggy head as he applied all the pressure he could manage. It hurt. It hurt so bad. He screamed. Unable to open his mouth, it came out muffled as he continued to apply pressure. All he wanted to do was push his jaw back in place. He just wanted it to sit properly.

It refused to budge. Tears streamed down his face as the pain made his head throb. He would have rolled around but the way his battered body was set up, he wasn’t doing any rolling. Not any time soon, anyway.

White static lit up his dark world as the pain continued to grow. He could feel it approaching. Either he was going to pull his damned jaw back into place or he was going to faint.

He stopped, letting some of the static that filled his head lessen. He needed to gather himself for the final push. With a deep, whistling breath, he pulled in as much air as he could handle and stored it deep in his gut. Then he exhaled, whole body relaxing.

With one quick motion, he braced both hands - even the one that had a gaping hole in it - against his jaw and pulled. Pain erupted once more. The static returned, filling his head with a deafening buzzing. Distantly, he could hear himself screaming.

He collapsed as the pain won out. He’d have to deal with the annoyance at a later time. For now, he would get to enjoy another not-so blissful reprieve surrounded by a muddy puddle of sand.

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Hands grabbed him as a voice barked orders. Weightlessness made his gut curdle, just for a moment before his body adjusted to it.

Blessed shade brought coolness. A small part of him had forgotten what it felt like to be out of the sun.

Rumbling, jolting, pain as he was unceremoniously slipped onto something. For a split second, he found himself worrying that his bits might be hanging out.

Images flashed through his mind but he was unsure whether they were real or not. Dark faces with cool-looking white shawls wrapped around their heads. An animal that looked like someone had squished a camel and a horse together. It even had mechanical parts as the sun on high glinted off of them.

A beautiful face with a fiery mane of the darkest hair hovered over his face as fingers prodded him. Sepeti felt conflicted for a moment as he had a hard time, in his stupor, telling whether the face was a man or a woman. Or maybe they were neither?

Another beautiful face, this one much harder and skin so smooth it glistened under the blazing sun. It warped as it moved, each part growing and shrinking. All he could think about was how beautiful their skin was.

Then, the ugliest face by far. He was sure it was the ugliest he’d ever seen, with its crooked nose and missing teeth. A deep gash, roughly sewn together, ran down the middle of the horrific face. It would have looked heroic if the face hadn’t been so bloated with bruising. One of the eyelids looked hollow.

He wanted to retch at the sight. Why were these people showing him such an ugly face? Who were these people?

His mind swam as he tried to piece things together. But nothing made sense. He felt like he was still mired in mud. Yet, at the same time, he could feel the wonderful sensation of freshly washed sheets beneath him. A comfortable bed creaked under him but he still felt like the sun was busy cooking him alive on low heat.

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He could feel his skin. Every inch of it stretched over the sad excuse for a body that he was forced to inhabit. From the very bottom of his feet to the top of his head, he felt everything. Or, he thought he did. Every slight movement, the merest shifting of the air, minuscule drops in the temperature. He was one with his skin.

For a while, anyway. Suddenly, he was aware that something was rushing about just beneath his taut skinsuit. The raging currents that were his lifeblood rushed about, to and fro. From one finger to the next, hopping streams as it circulated the necessary materials to keep him alive. He was sure, absolutely sure, that he could feel the oxygen riding about in his bloodstream. Crammed into his veins with all the other life-giving elements.

Yet, he was able to feel another current, rushing around beneath his skin in opposition while providing a service just as important as the blood. It moved slower, more leisurely. Where the blood was hectic, this other force was calm. It moved with a purpose, hitting specific points throughout his body at specific times. He found he was able to map out exactly how long it took the second current to circulate. Seven excruciatingly long seconds. It began in his stomach, moved up into his chest, then into his throat, up into his mouth, even further up into his brain, then it split in two and traveled into both eyes.

Each point seemed to, in his mind, act as a fulcrum. A junction point, if you will. Sepeti found himself comparing the loop to the high-speed bullet trains from home. The ones he enjoyed riding with his family whenever they would go on family trips. The thought exhilarated him for a moment as he let himself relive the random memory.

He remembered how his parents often took him for a ride on the train. Every week, on the last day before a new week of training began, they would pack a lunch and ride out to the countryside. Just the four of them. His father, his mother, his brother, and himself. He always looked forward to those days. It was the only time he and his brother got to actually enjoy one another’s company. It was the only time his father wasn’t busy drilling scenarios into them. It was the only time his mother didn’t have to keep up her harsh taskmaster facade. Those singular days of rest were the brightest points in his childhood.

A deep longing bloomed in his chest, right where his heart was supposed to be. Was this what reminiscing was? Did it always hurt so much?

A pulse emanated from his stomach as the second current seemed to hit a blockage. Waves of pain resonated through his body but he was unable to scream. The want, the need to scream hurt. But he just couldn’t. It wouldn’t come out.

Something soft touched his stomach, firmly pressing down right above his navel. It was heavenly, to be treated with such tenderness. He found himself swimming in a cloud of tender caresses. It felt like his whole body was being massaged by gently lapping water.

A pinprick sharpened his senses for a moment. But his mind quickly fell back into the angel’s caress, folding him back into blissful nothingness.

Time seemed to ebb and flow. One moment, it was the perfect brightness as the morning sun filtered in through the loveliest shades. A soft, arid wind billowed the curtains and he felt contentment. Pure, unadulterated complacency. He wanted to kick his feet and roll about but his body decided it wasn’t the time. There were too many eyes watching him. And, somewhere within the hazy minefield that was his mind, he agreed.

He blinked and it was the next moment. The blinds hung limp as the wind decided to rest for the night. The darkness was barely accentuated by the light of the moon. Or moons. He wasn’t sure, he couldn’t remember checking how many celestial bodies this place had. But, just like the other planets he’d been on, the night was accentuated by a beautiful silver glow. Nighttime was his favorite. He loved the darkness. He loved the stillness. He absolutely loved the solitude the twilight brought. As the world slept, so did he.

Sepeti’s mind wandered. For how long, he couldn’t say. Maybe he’d finally achieved his long denied Endless Slumber? Was this what it felt like?

Another pinprick sent a rush flowing through his veins. He felt himself beginning to float away again. The pain, the constant niggling discomfort, eased as a piece of him separated from his body.

A star twinkled and he reached out to grab it. The star exploded in his grasp, sprinkling him with the most vivid colors he had ever seen. They expanded, engulfing him in their kaleidoscopic embrace. He tumbled through the colors, falling from one tier to the next. Everything was so soft, so dazzling, so right.

The colors began to spin. It began at a leisurely pace. He watched as the beautiful array of colors mixed and matched, smearing into one another as they slowly picked up their pace. The reds ran through the yellows, barging through the brightness as they slowly became oranges. The blues crashed into the reds, breaking against the impregnable fortress and unleashing the violets. The yellows fled from the reds, sneaking into the blues and disguising themselves as the greens.

Soon, the war of the colors was in full swing. They bruised and they battered one another. They attacked and they defended. They invaded and they were pushed back.

Sepeti watched as the colors fought, as factions rose and fell. He watched as the wars stacked on top of one another, colors mixing and matching and ebbing and flowing. They built and they built, layer after layer of colors overwriting one another.

With a final explosion, the colors clashed and unleashed the all-consuming black. It spread, creeping and crawling across the brightly colored sky. Stars fell as the black absorbed them. Inch by inch, the colors lost their territory to the encroaching darkness.

Sepeti let out a cry of happiness as he reveled in the blissful black that slowly spread across the canvas. It was beautiful. He watched, enraptured, as the darkness devoured the rest of the colors, turning the reds and the blues and the yellows one by one.

Glee flowered in his nonexistent stomach as the world, the cosmos, the great Expanse was slowly and methodically converted. The darkness spread. Not as a disease, no. But as a liberator. The darkness was security. The blackness was the promise of pure solitude. The gloom was the fulfillment of promises long denied.

Sepeti reached out. He willed himself. He wanted to go there now. This was the culmination of his deepest desires.

The darkness answered. It turned his way and it beckoned. He could feel it, all the way at the bottom of his spirit bones. The grips of the Endless Slumber took hold and called for him. His mind, his body, his spirit yearned for the sweet release. He wanted to be flooded by the deep black just like how the rest of the colors had been. He wanted it to wash over him and dye him, release him from the mortal coil.

His heart beat. It resounded in his skull. Someone or something was touching his heart and forcing it to circulate blood. He couldn’t feel the pain. Not that it mattered, he was nearing what he wanted. Endless Slumber was nigh and he would not be denied.

Flailing, he urged himself forward. If he had legs, he would have run. If he had arms, he would have crawled. If he had a body, he would have forced it to wriggle its way closer, inch by painful inch, to the all-devouring darkness. Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing.

He could hear muffled voices. They sounded so far away and yet so close. He wasn’t sure where they were, all he knew was that they didn’t need to be speaking. Noise was blasphemy before the Endless Slumber, the great darkness, the sleeper of worlds. He wanted to shush them, to show them the wrongs of their ways. How could they kick up such a cacophony in the presence of greatness?

The voices grew in intensity. They were yelling. They were praying to something. They were doing everything but shutting up. And he wanted the quiet of the faraway black to return. Why were these things disturbing his long-awaited slumber?

The thumping of a heart rattled the darkness of the Expanse. The heartbeat spread, little by little. It infected the perfect stillness that he’d been blessed with. The disease spread as light began to dawn on the bleak darkness.

At first, Sepeti could barely make out the hated light. It was but an infinitesimal speck in a far-off, isolated galaxy. It was an afterthought. It was despised and he refused to acknowledge its meager existence.

Yet the persistent light grew. It spread its whiteness, unfurling itself across the desolate canvas with its unwelcome advance. The followers of the white grew, moment by moment, as they invaded the blessed lands of the beloved black.

Sepeti shielded his nonexistent eyes as the waning moon rose with the hateful brightness. It shone its light, glimmering as it reflected the hazy sun.

Another heartbeat spelled the doom of the darkness. Cracks appeared everywhere. Light leaked through, chipping away at the blackness.

Sepeti wanted to cry. He wanted to complain. He wanted to lash out at the hated light. Why did it always have to deny him? What had he done to be forced into this wretchedness?

With a thunderous crash, the light broke through. It chased the darkness away, banishing the black to the furthest corners. The Endless Slumber was no more as his heart beat on its own.