Enderian had traveled through the labyrinth for days, weeks, maybe even months, and yet he had still found no way out. He has had no food since that round ball he ate, and, if Enderian thought about it, he should be dead by now. His body has had no sustenance, yet it continued to move. Starved and dying of thirst, he continued to move.

Enderian touches his stomach; it was bloated for some reason, but when he reached higher he could feel his ribs. His body was dying. His throat was burning. Even his skin was starting to dry out and crack, bleeding slightly and at risk of infection. But he continued to move.

Whenever his legs began to weaken and he thought he could go on no longer, his mind was drawn to the taste of that fruit. That succulent and flavorful bite of that sweet, sweet fruit. He could still taste it on his lips, and feel its juices run down his chin; long gone and eaten, even the memory of it was enough to sustain him.

Eventually, Enderian could see again. The fog began to clear and before him he saw a spring, surrounded by greenery, by life. Desperate for it, Enderian rushes forward and begins to drink, he dunks his head into the pool and greedily took in what he could before lifting his head out and collapsing on his back. Breathing in desperate breaths, his lungs inhaled and exhaled, expanded and deflated.

Enderian felt like an old man, but having tasted the water and felt the fresh air, he felt as if he had a taste of life once again.

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Enderian began to laugh. Laugh heartily and happily. Until…

Suddenly, a shadow covered Enderian. A monk in orange robes looked down on him and shook his head. “Blasphemous.” He says as he draws his sword. “In the temple of Arkay, to drink from the Fountain of Innocence. Blasphemous.” He says before piercing downwards.

Enderian’s eyes widen with shock and anxiety, but before he knew it the sword had pierced his throat.

Enderian continued to look on with wide eyes, stunned. His hands reached for his neck and felt as the blood rushed to escape his neck. His body slowly became drained of energy. Enderian looks upwards, and his weak hands reached forwards towards the sun for one last time. Was it an act of desperation for his fleeting life, or was it to reach out towards the life he could have had, and the person he had been, or was it an act of defiance against the cruelty involved with living and the suffering involved. Enderian didn’t know.

Enderian’s hand once more collapses to the ground, and before long, he breathed the last breath of this life, and his consciousness faded, drifting into the sweet peaceful embrace of darkness.

…

…

Unconscious and practically dead, Enderian’s hazy mind continued to move. From one fuzzy dream to another, his mind traveled. He sensed traits that have long been hidden from him, anger, serenity, hatred, and love; traits that had only existed on the edges of Enderian’s mind, but traits that were very much a part of him. In a dazed state, Enderian kisses the blurry image of a girl; he could feel the gentleness of her lips, but suddenly, a shadow’s hand reached out and grabbed her shoulder and began to pull. The girl’s body was dragged away, further and further. Slowly, Enderian realized what was happening, his true love was being taken from him, and suddenly, a fire exploded from within him; he felt an immense and uncontrollable anger arise from within him as he sprinted for the fleeting of image of his lover.

Enderian’s eyes open and his body instinctively sits up. “No!!!” He yells out as his hands reach out once more.

Suddenly, Enderian’s mind awakens, as he registered the surrounding trees and greenery, his mind seemed to forget what he was yearning for. “Where the fuck am I?” He asks himself. “Wait a minute.” He says as he consider the situation. “Did I just die?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.