> "I wish I never learned what I never knew at that time."

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> High-Alim - Milar Benis “On History of Burning” Year 304 of Burning

Looking down he could see the darkness laughing as it tore away the last remains of light, the dying screams of brightness died silently unheard but by his ears. and the night prevailed plunging the world into a darkness that matched his heart

Looking down he could see them smiling, laughing, and he cried, tears rolled down from his eyes, eyes which no longer had any hope, a face that no longer had a smile, looking at the ignorance he cried.

Perhaps he too was ignorant once, perhaps he too once laughed, perhaps he too once danced and sang, perhaps, perhaps he too was Once Alive.

All around him, shadows spoke, whispering in his ears, as they always have as they always do as they always will

see me, hold me, feel me, embrace me

choking him, engulfing him, holding him

embrace me! says the dark..........

........

With a start, Akim woke.

Like a haze that lifted when day broke, darkness receded from his vision. He found himself lying on a beach, the white sands stretching out before him like a canvas awaiting its first stroke. The blue sea, its waves gentle yet insistent, whispered secrets to the shore.

As he stirred, shimmering darkness clung to the edges of his consciousness, reluctant to release its hold. It was there, barely visible—an elusive companion that seemed to waver between existence and illusion. Akim’s fingers sank into the soft sand, each grain a tactile reassurance that he was still anchored to this world. The sound of waves—rhythmic, eternal—filled his ears.

His memories stirred, fragments coalescing. The faces of his companions, their laughter and camaraderie, now blurred by the haze of awakening. What had brought them here? What had torn them apart?

Akim tried to sit upright, but his body protested—the ache of bruises, the heaviness of limbs. His vision swarmed, and darkness threatened to engulf his thoughts once more. Akim surrendered to the moment, allowing the waves and the darkness to weave their spell as he drifted back into the embrace of unconsciousness.

......

The sound of his footsteps was muffled by the sand, though the crashing of waves on the shore would have been enough to hide his laboring walk, it was gonna be miles yet before he could stop before he could enjoy the luxury called sleep. Sleep. it was hard to imagine sleep, his last sleep was just a fading memory in his mind. a dull red glow was on everything, moonlight itself was bleeding, or perhaps it was the gash on his forehead pouring blood across his sight, the wound on his side was numb, this wound never truly healed, it would open at just a small tug, now how long had it been spilling he could not recall, all his thoughts were concentrated on moving on. All his mind was working on was another step and then another.

His feet faltered, but he pulled himself together, No not yet, NOT YET, he cannot fall now, he could have failed a long time ago, he should have failed all those years ago, he had lived a life that had no meaning, no meaning till now, no meaning if he failed now either. move, move his mind kept sending this command to his body, move damit move. His time was moving with him, at a pace faster than him and he knew it, it wouldn't take long before his time would be over, he would not fail now, he just would not.

then embrace me! said the dark..........his last scream was not one from that of pain, but of agony on failing now, now it was meaningless...........

...........

Akim’s return to consciousness was abrupt, the comfort of the beach’s soft sands replaced by the unyielding firmness of a hard floor. All around him was dark. The darkness that enveloped him was not the oppressive void of his nightmares but a more benign obscurity, the kind that comes with the absence of light rather than the presence of fear.

He lay there for a moment, allowing his senses to acclimate. The ground beneath him was hard, each pebble and twig pressing into his flesh—a stark contrast to the gentle embrace of the sandy shore. The air was different here, too; it was heavier, laden with the scent of earth and foliage, and the sounds of the jungle were a symphony of nocturnal life, so unlike the rhythmic lapping of waves that last lulled him to sleep.

“Calm down,” he whispered to himself, a mantra to steady his racing heart. “It is over; you are away, and the shadows will not find you here.”

As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the outlines of the wilderness emerged. The colors, though muted in the night’s embrace, seemed more vibrant than he remembered, as if the very essence of the jungle was reaching out to him, inviting him to become a part of its ancient narrative.

Akim pushed himself up, feeling the texture of the ground change beneath his palms, from the soft give of sand to the solid reality of the earth. It was a reminder that his journey was far from over and that every awakening brought with it a new challenge to face.

Intinctively he moved his right hand to his knife belt and found it missing! with alacrity belying his addled state of mind he patted himself and sighed in relief when he felt the piece of parchment in his pocket. Carefully with reverence, he took it out.

let's see if this was worth it, he thought. What he found confused him more. There were words but unlike any, he had seen before. He had heard that before the burning the world was full of different languages. Some would go from left to right, some went right to left, and even some went up to down.

How could he decipher this he had no clue. Maybe back at Toiesar, he can go to the grand library. However, that would raise its own set of problems which he was not ready to face just yet. The one thing he could understand was the symbol of Ignition. At least this was something related and could mean he could unlock the secrets behind it.

The weight of the tome's loss pressed heavily upon Akim, a tangible ache that mirrored the emptiness of his hands. But then, a sharper pang of remorse cut through him, slicing deeper than any physical wound could. It was the sting of self-reproach, the realization that his first thoughts had been of the book, not of the companions who had journeyed with him, who had laughed and struggled by his side.

He felt a flush of shame heat his cheeks, a burning reminder of misplaced priorities. How could he have thought of the book before them? They had paid the ultimate price for the secrets it held.

As this truth settled in, Akim's mind became numb, overwhelmed by the magnitude of their sacrifice. They had ventured into the unknown for this—this single piece of parchment that promised so much yet had cost so dearly. The silence around him seemed to echo with their absence, a void no words could fill.

"Peace", he said to himself. There would be a time for these thoughts, that time was not now.

He had no idea where he was, or how much time had passed. It was night when we went in, the first time I gained consciousness it was daytime. And now this? wasn't there a beach before? a sea? Am I going insane? He shrugged off those thoughts, but they lingered like shadows in his mind, twisting and distorting his sense of reality. Now, once again, night surrounds me, yet the landscape has shifted into a jungle of sorts. How long will it take me to find somewhere recognizable? How far has that vortex taken me?

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

He would have continued his musings when his stomach grumbled loudly. Well, first things first then.

With a grunt, he picked himself up and tried to orient himself. Looking up, he could not discern if it was merely cloudy or a dark, moonless night. If the sky were clear, fragments of the shattered moon should be visible, even if the larger piece was obscured. The thought of the moon's fate brought a wry smile as he recalled Master Sandal's drunken tirades against the "Hollow Mooners." Akim never quite understood who they were, but the very idea that the moon was once thought to be hollow—and the reality of its fragmentation—always seemed to tickle Master Sandal to no end.

Shaking himself out of stupor he willed himself to move to the task at hand.

Akim’s gaze swept across the untamed expanse before him, each step measured, each breath calculated. The wilderness was not unfamiliar to him, yet it was a stark contrast to the concrete jungles and fortified bastions where his skills had been honed. Here, in the embrace of nature, he moved with a predator’s grace, alert to the whispers of the wild that spoke a language of survival. His training may have been in the art of stealth within the man-made mazes of cities, but now, the earth beneath his feet and the rustle of leaves became the new terrain he must master.

After what felt like an eternity of wandering through the wilderness, Akim stumbled upon a babbling stream. He dropped to his knees, cupping his hands to drink deeply from the cool water. The coolness kissed his lips, a balm for his scorched throat, yet it was but a fleeting solace against the gnawing emptiness within.

With rekindled determination, Akim scanned the verdant veil in search of nature’s bounty, for any signs of edible plants or small game. As his eyes swept the shadowy underbrush, a realization dawned on him—the darkness was not as impenetrable as it once was. Somehow, the night that had cloaked all in obscurity now seemed to yield to his gaze, revealing secrets it had once jealously guarded. What? he thought, how can I see this far in darkness?

He gazed once more upon the water’s surface, pondering if it held the secret to his newfound clarity. With careful deliberation, he gathered another handful and raised it to his eyes. He turned it this way and that, tilting his head, searching for any anomaly within its liquid embrace. Yet, it revealed nothing unusual to his sight, nor did it betray any secrets upon his tongue—it was, in every aspect, simply water.

But as Akim held the water, he noticed a sensation he had never felt before. The water felt alive, each droplet a tiny orb of energy dancing across his skin. It was as if he could sense the very essence of the water, the journey it had taken from cloud to stream. The coolness of it seemed to seep deeper than just the surface of his hands, resonating with the very fibers of his being. It was a simple element, water, yet now it felt profound, as though he was touching the lifeblood of the world itself.

As Akim stood by the water’s edge, a newfound acuity not only graced his eyes but also in his ears. The night, once a silent shroud, now hummed with life. The symphony of crickets, the rustle of leaves in the gentle night breeze, and the distant calls of nocturnal creatures all reached his ears with a clarity that startled him. It was as if the darkness had sharpened his senses, tuning him into the subtle whispers of the wilderness.

As the chorus of the night crescendoed in Akim’s ears, a tremor of unease quivered through him. The clarity of sound and sight, though remarkable, was alien—a stark deviation from the norm that set his heart racing. Panic, like a cold hand, gripped him as he grappled with the implications of his altered perceptions. Was this a gift or a curse? The question haunted him, and in the suffocating embrace of the unknown, Akim felt a primal urge to flee, to escape the revelations that the darkness seemed all too eager to unveil.

Panic overwhelmed him, and his heart raced, dread clawing at his chest like a trapped animal. The darkness, once his ally, now whispered secrets that threatened to unravel his sanity. His companions—their gruesome end replayed like a relentless loop, each scream echoing through the corridors of his mind.

Focus, he told himself. FOCUS!

Breathe.

He closed his eyes, shutting out the night. The symphony of unseen creatures persisted—the crickets’ chorus, the rustling leaves—but he needed clarity, not chaos. His mental fortress, battered and crumbling, demanded reinforcement.

Remember, he thought. Remember why.

Remember the reason. We volunteered, and we chose to come knowing some or all of us might not return.

He stood by the stream, its babbling a counterpoint to his racing pulse. The water, innocent yet mysterious, held answers. Or perhaps more questions. He dipped his fingers once more, feeling its coolness. It tasted like water, but was it more?

Embrace me, the darkness had whispered.

Akim’s mental fortitude wavered, breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a battle against the panic that threatened to consume him. The darkness, was it alive? Was it just a dream? His companions, brave souls who had ventured into the unknown with him, were gone—taken by the very shadows that now seemed to caress him with familiarity.

This isn't right, he thought, his mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear. This isn't how it was supposed to be.

Willing the memories of his failure away, he focused on the good times. The memories of his training surfaced, a time when the rules were clear and he knew what to do. He needed that kind of certainty. He needed control. His companions’ sacrifice fueled his resolve.

They trusted me, he reminded himself, the weight of leadership heavy on his shoulders. I can't let their sacrifice be in vain. He would return.

He felt the pull of the darkness, to succumb to the chaos that promised both destruction and revelation. He pushed away.

Control, he commanded himself. Harness this. Use it.

With newfound purpose, he opened his eyes. The night no longer overwhelmed; it beckoned. His senses—enhanced, attuned—were tools, not terrors. The crickets’ song became a battle hymn, and the rustling leaves, a roadmap.

Akim stepped away from the stream, leaving behind uncertainty. Ahead lay a path—a treacherous one, but his own. He would decipher the parchment, face the shadows, and reclaim his shattered world.

Fear, he thought, would not be my legacy.

With each step, Akim's awareness of the wilderness expanded. Not only sight and sounds led him, but the night air carried with it the scent of earth and life, a tapestry of aromas that guided him as surely as his eyes and ears. It wasn't long before a particular fragrance caught his attention—a sweet, beckoning scent that promised nourishment.

He followed the scent trail until he came upon a tree, its branches heavy with unknown fruit. The fruit's skin was smooth, and its scent was rich and inviting. Akim plucked one from the branch, bringing it to his nose for a closer inspection. The smell.. nice, he had no other way of describing it. Or do I ? he mused, it smells tasty.

Akim's first bite of the fruit was a revelation, a burst of flavor that painted his palate with shades of taste he had never imagined. The flesh was succulent, each morsel releasing juices that sang with complexity—sweet, yet tinged with a hint of tartness that teased the senses. It was as if the fruit had captured and distilled a symphony of flavors that danced upon his tongue.

Driven by a newfound hunger for these vibrant tastes, Akim reached for more. He devoured the fruits with an urgency born of both need and wonder, their flavors a balm to his weary soul. He ate until he could no more until the symphony quieted to a whisper.

Akim’s hunger sated, he felt the weariness settle into his very bones. The darkness, once an adversary, now cradled him like a weary traveler seeking respite. His eyes scanned the surroundings—a canvas of shadows and secrets.

Between gnarled roots and beneath the sheltering arms of ancient trees, he found a nook—a sanctuary carved by time and nature. The ground, softened by fallen leaves, welcomed him. Akim lay down, his body a vessel for exhaustion, his mind a tempest of questions.

As Akim settled into the makeshift bed of leaves and shadows, the night sky unveiled its secrets. The receding clouds revealed a celestial tapestry—a canvas of stars far beyond anything he had ever known. They clustered together, a multitude that defied the familiar constellations that he used to trace in his youth. There was no Moon to be seen neither was its broken-off piece that was always visible.

Where in Bruns name am I? he wondered.

Beneath the night's vast canvas, Akim lay, his gaze ascending to the distant stars. A surge of thoughts and emotions ebbed and flowed within him, each star a beacon of untold stories, of epochs that stretched far beyond his grasp. He traced imaginary lines between them, seeking the solace of familiar patterns now lost to him.

With each attempt to connect the celestial dots, the futility of his endeavor became clearer. These were not the stars of his homeland, not the guiding lights that had watched over him through countless nights. They were strangers, silent witnesses to a world he had yet to fully comprehend.

Contemplating the mysteries woven into the celestial tapestry, a profound sense of awe enveloped him. In this remote corner of the cosmos, he was but a speck, an observer in a dance orchestrated by forces beyond his dominion. It was humbling, yet oddly comforting, to realize that amidst his own life's turmoil, the stars stood unwavering, eternal sentinels in their silent vigil.

Yet, as he admired the heavens' splendor, fatigue began to assert its dominance. His eyelids grew heavy, his thoughts frayed and scattered like leaves caught in an autumnal gust. With a sigh that carried the weight of his weariness, he yielded to sleep's call, the enigmas of the night sky dissolving into the oblivion of his dreams.

As slumber claimed him, the stars maintained their ceaseless vigil, indifferent guardians of a shifting world, their gaze unfaltering upon the solitary traveler now adrift in their midst.

Embrace me, said the dark