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1: Revenant Cascade (Part 3)

Five minutes to the eleventh hour.

That was all the time young Cel had left to live after what should have been a peaceful Halloween thrill-seeking adventure turned violent because of the bullies becoming violent. Five of the town’s “golden boys” had seemingly appeared out of nowhere-jumping the three of them-and started attacking them for no reason other than their own perverted beliefs. They focused most of their brutality on Cel than Sarah or Cindy-though a few of them leered at them in a disgusting way like pigs-and kept striking him down while spouting homophobic slurs. Some of their words shattered what little restraint he had left and pissed him off though they did not hold back on their murderous intentions. They wanted to kill him.

A couple of them broke his arms-shattering bone-and that made him wail in pain.

“Aww look! The fairy can scream!” they taunted him while he wept in pain.

Cel thought to himself why they wanted to hurt him so badly even though he didn’t do anything to them at all, but then he heard Sarah plead with them to stop hurting him. Two of them just chuckled at Sarah and told her to shut up and wait her turn-further stoking the rage he slowly felt building up inside.

Blood slowly coalesced in his unusable arms as Cel started feeling them kicking hard into his ribcage-fracturing a few ribs in the process-and constantly spewing foul curses about his bisexuality. What was even worse than all of their curses and duress they delivered upon him was how Cel simply did not fully comprehend why they desperately desired to kill him which made the young lad whimper more in pain-amusing his attackers. These guys were willing to fatally harm him and hurt his friends who did not deserve any of this. Sarah and Cindy only ever wanted to care about him which made them true friends in his book.

“Break the fucker’s legs! Make the fucking fag suffer!” one of them shouted like he led them. Cel couldn’t see which one of the men said it, but he heard their voice-recognizing it.

That deep masculine voice belonged to the quarterback Ryan Johnson-a major supporter of Desmond and all around jackass. He is also a senior at their school and a known homophobe who often tries quoting Nazi extremism within his small niche group. Cel heard a lot about him and how he often treats women since a small number of girls who go to their school dated him-completely unaware of exactly what they were getting into with a hot-headed asshole. A few rumors even floated around school that his family taught him only about old traditions from the times of slavery and heavy predjudice before transferring into the public school district at the start of senior year.

Cel even bet that a couple of his attackers were Ryan’s cronies who shared similar beliefs about men who enjoyed both genders equally while dragging along a couple others who didn’t really understand the gravity of their decision. That turned out to be exactly right when Cel-through the adrenaline fueled painkiller-noted the two men who leered at Sarah and Cindy started questioning if this endeavor was worth it upon realizing the other three were only going to kill Cel for petty reasons. Ryan must have noticed it too because his next barked order resolved their momentary lapse in blindly following orders.

“Once the fag is dead, we will enjoy the women!”

Four minutes to the eleventh hour.

Cel heard Sarah spew foul names at the misogynistic bastard and Cindy looked pissed off as if the five men angered a living supernova, but a sickening feeling threatened to spew bile onto the ground once his brain fully caught up to the damage his arms endured. He heard Ryan laugh off the disgusting names Sarah called him as if each word meant nothing to him and then Cel felt something slip into his hip. He coughed up blood-adding it to the filthy gravel road beneath him-as Cel heard chuckling from behind him.

“The fairy bleeds red, huh? Guess it is more like you cough up red than bleed.”

“CEL!” Sarah screamed out in horror as Cel started to feel a little woozy. Then, she seethed in anger. “You fuckers are going to jail once this gets out!”

“No, it won’t bitch,” Ryan replied-backhanding Sarah. “Because after he dies, you both will too.”

The confession turned a couple of them wary about continuing the attack, but Cel did not manage to hear anyone speak up as he slowly bled out and felt a coldness descend over him. He understood that death grew near and his time was draining away-mere minutes left to live-though Cel could only cry for his future being lost. All that he desired to do was about to fall away because of petty reasons and antiquated idealism that no longer served a purpose in the modern age. Fate decided to be cruel to a young man who only wanted to fit in and simply live a peaceful life with a husband or a wife-whichever really felt desirable.

Cel cried out to the coldness for how life had been so unkind towards him while he was still trying to figure out his place in the world. The rage of how he wanted to punish those who hurt him and his friends for no good reason other than their closed-mindedness amplified those cries into the cold darkness which slowly claimed his life cell by cell. He felt no peace as faint ripples of pain echoed to his slowly-dying mind and the torture grew endless. Cel only understood one thing as his death inched closer: no matter how long or how far it cost him, he would not stop until they endured the same suffering.

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“The end approaches,” a faint voice in Cel’s head echoed-drawing him into some kind of faint lucid dream. This dream represented a faintly lit cavernous room with a slightly familiar doorway that held raven black doors that seemed to be forged of pure obsidian. The light sources were standing torches with blue flames that seemingly dimmed slowly that stretched far into the darkness and a few of them no longer lit up. Standing at least five feet apart from each other, Cel noted the torches were lined up on both sides of the doorway leading outward. He even spotted some kind of clock above the door which seemed to be triggered to count down in minutes. “Death is descending far too early.”

“Hello?” Cel asked.

“Hello, young Cel Davron,” the voice replied-making Cel feel it was familiar somehow. “I bet you are very confused about what is going on, hmm?”

Cel nodded.

“Well,” the voice started as if knowing the response. “There is no easy way to tell you without confusing you that you are dying. Normally, you are supposed to live for at least nine to ten decades then pass away peacefully, but it seems something has happened to circumvent the original plan. Things have become very complicated.”

“What do you mean?” Cel asked, feeling a little scared as a sudden ticking noise erupted and two of the torches were extinguished.

Three minutes to the eleventh hour.

“Three minutes,” the voice replied. “Three minutes until everything changes, young Cel Davron. After that, nothing will ever be the same for you.”

Cel repeated his question to the voice-a little unsure if whoever was speaking to him felt the pressure because the cold slowly crept back into his senses.

“I mean that you will soon cease to exist,” it replied. “Though at the same time, not really.”

“How can I cease to exist yet not?” Cel asked.

“That is a good question,” it started. “When the time runs out, you will find out quickly the meaning as it cannot be told than just experienced. To pass some time, I’ll ask you a single question young Cel. This question is a very important one to answer as it will decide what happens next.”

Cel did not understand what was happening to him and felt like the world itself was spinning so fast that his mind couldn’t catch up in time. He knew that he was being killed by narcissistic bastards with outdated ideals and beliefs who decided to punch his ticket, but this voice-which seemed to be far older than Cel himself-did not sound like a redeemer or someone with malicious intent. At Cel’s best guess, the voice sounded tired as if whoever it belonged to held very little desire to get out of bed in the morning. Cel wondered who owned the voice, but decided to not ask the question yet.

“What is your question?” Cel asked.

“You are running out of time. Your killers are smiling with glee at their work which has caused you great pain. Your friends are screaming out for anyone to offer assistance in the vain hopes that someone comes to the rescue. No one will listen as your murderers walk and their devastating work is left unpunished for decades. Blood pooling beneath your slightly warm body and the only faint warmth left to you is the rage simmering inside of your very soul-furious that its life will soon be extinguished. Death is soon to claim you, but amidst the turmoil of those precious last moments, you hear an offer,” the voice replied.

“The offer does not give you a new lease on life or only punish those who will never see justice for their crimes, but decides a pivotal tipping point for the entire world. Depending on your answer, the result will mark you. Now then Cel Davron of Earth, here is the question. Do you want to save the world or destroy it?”

Cel started to ponder the question and how best to approach it. He understood that destroying the world quite literally meant death on a widespread scale, so that option was quickly invalidated. He might have been angry about people killing him for no good reason, but mercy still existed and there were many other people-over six billion humans on the planet alone-that could not be counted among the five primary culprits. People are capable of heroism just as much as they are to be amoral bastards.

That only left saving the world, but Cel did not want that either. Saving people meant both good and bad people were allowed to live their lives without any kind of intervening third party. While he did not possess a desire to completely wipe the board clean or to allow crimes go unpunished without due diligence, another thought sprung to mind. It seemed a bit flawed, but felt like the most appropriate answer.

“To answer your question, I do not seek destruction nor do I wish for all to be saved. My desire is for people to have hope in a dark and dreary world while those who commit heinous acts without good reason be condemned appropriately in response to their crimes. My killers deserve no less than appropriate judgement for what they have committed against my friends and I while I argue true innocent people deserve aid in their struggles for there are many who need whatever support shall help them weather through their trials,” Cel responded.

The voice laughed in response like they just heard something truly philosophical and wise.

“Oh, young Cel Davron! You are a truly wonderful boy who seems to be quite wise for someone of your age. That answer you gave is proof enough that I was right to create you in the first place.”

“Wait, what?” Cel asked.

“Yeah, I created you as a mortal persona and understand mortal perceptive for a time. Sadly, it is reaching the eleventh hour and things will change quite drastically,” the voice replied.

One minute to the eleventh hour.

The door slowly unlocked as Cel noticed four torches were no longer lit-leaving the final two still burning though slowly dying away into nothing-and the clock above the door had one minute left. He wondered where the last minute went, but then the voice spoke up.

“You took the last minute to decide your answer which is fine. As a reward, I promise that I will release you from the painful bonds and keep you as a part of myself forever.”

“Who are you?” Cel asked.

Ten seconds left.

“Your only hope.”

Time finally ran out and the obsidian door swung wide open.