Ferocious flames and raging roars emerged from the fissure to the underworld and flooded the above, dominating it with reds and oranges ravenously spreading the crumbling haven, covering the entire surface of the azure oasis in the iris. Those fires only grew with greater rage enforced through its louding screams and more violent thrashes, captured by both of the eyes tinted orange, same with the Latino face of the young boy who looked to be a new teenager with a body still prepubescent given a wider and innocent face, albeit for those horrified eyes that were far from blissful. They were instead characterized best with a dullness, an absence of the youthful purity, not exactly in intense mourning but instead in silent hollow lifelessness. His mouth was only slightly parted, his facial muscles weren’t tense per se although they certainly weren’t all relaxed, not like his short black hairs that wave over him.

Behind his fixated head was a solid charcoal color, the gray that had surrounded the boy, the colorless and simultaneous unboundedness to either side, the limbo in between the two worlds. Although that limbo shattered as does the charcoal surface of the arched door, which dematerialized into innumerable minuscule fragments like particles of a cloud that all scattered before dissipating entirely, revealing the black void behind which he was led into against his will, dragged past the frame into the darkness as the blaze continued ahead of him, taken into the black opposite of his white shirt.

His legs merely moved in accordance to the pace set on him, specifically by the hand clutching his own, the hand of a significantly older being dressed with a long white blazer with long brown flowing hair moving like the wind, the head faced the other way as opposed to the boy who couldn’t remove his fixation.

He couldn’t remove his gaze as he ran down the staircase and in between the towering huge trees of the dense forest, although not dense enough to cover the night sky despite the many branches spreading leaves hanging overhead. His feet beneath his white shorts just instinctively dragged on the straight path made of cobblestone, cutting through the blades of green grass that waver in the nightly breeze, same with his hairs. The orange tint on his face did extinguish at least, as the further he was moved the dimmer the flames in his eyes got, until they were again just those cold azure gaps into his soul.

Yet the cobblestone path did not extend for very far as soon the two had reached its finality, and with the finality of the path came that of the escape as the man in the white suit halted which without a present force also suspended the boy. The hand was released from the boy’s, the hand of the figure who repositioned in front of the boy whose gaze would not change– nor could his expression– despite being relocated outside amongst the trees. In front of his body a shadow emerged, towering over him like the trees, and yet the boy’s gaze did not change.

The shadow did regress, lowering due to the lowering of the man now standing in front of the boy, bending his legs to meet the child face to face, wrinkling the white blazer as a result likewise with the same colored pants. While the boy did not move his head, the man had positioned himself perfectly within his gaze regardless, casting the illusion of eye contact even if perhaps he wasn’t truly being given attention. Even then, the man spoke with a richly deep masculine voice, almost authoritative by nature, leading an almost godly command and yet with a tone that was sweet and gentle, human and cautious. Those words were: “Wait here Meditat, I’m going to fix this, just give me a few minutes. Okay? Everything is going to be okay.”

While perhaps the boy did not tilt his gaze, his head finally moved to execute a brief nod, even that one action reluctant given the pause and slowness. It was however a response nonetheless, and the best he would give, enough at least for the man to respond with a gentle sigh before standing back to his feet. The blazer and pants unfolded and straightened in perfect tailoring to the wearer, and with that one command given the man turned around and ran back in the direction from which they came.

Specifically the man ran in the direction that the boy was already staring at, in the direction up the stone path, up the direction to where stood the strangely traditional two story tall cabin house, made with a design nearly ancient with techniques such as the roofing where three prominent triangular prismatic coverings were made of dark stone tiles and had considerable overhang, the central prism being the larger and the left one being the smallest but closer in size to the right one. There were two smaller triangles nested between the three, each paired with externally visible windows as another ancient design, as there were many windows also with the other three triangles with the central having a unique design almost of a split triangle where there were two right triangles facing opposite directions on the sides and a central obelisk silhouette. There were more too on the lower floor with one on the far left being rather large like a sunroom window and the one on the far right being large but not as much, yet coupled with a pair of dark gray boards similar to the window right above it and the two by the center with the porch, each one in between two of the total four pillars supporting the porch as the upper floor protruded further. The walls were made of orange wooden boards which gave it that cabin appearance, with the house sitting atop a foundation of cobblestone which also had several short wooden pillars aiding it around the edges of the foundation, some continuing from the pillars at the porch. All of the apertures to the house exhibited a bright orange glow from the intense flames behind, same like the arched doorway that allowed the rumbling and crackling to pass into the outdoors. Although obstructing the sight of the doorway was the man in white, who after a brief pause stepped back in through the entrance, and continued the walk into the great inferno that quickly shrouded sight of him.

Indeed there were many trees around the house as it seemed to be situated in some forest, although what was lacking was any other houses in the visible range, for there were no buildings whether it be samely styled houses or anything of the sort. There were no homes, and with the lack of homes there were also no people, no other beings in the area to run to, nobody else that the boy could be comforted by, for the last person had already returned into the blaze. Total recluse, exclusion from the world, the only sounds being that of the crackling of the flames, although then accompanied by the sound of voices but not in speech but instead shouts. The most overwhelming of the voices sounded to be that of a young teenage boy, which nearly dominated the flames with its equally fiery rage.

Although it was all contained in that one house, as beyond it was just peaceful nature, the expansive forest with no visible end from the home, and above was the black night’s sky painted with long purple nebulas and galaxies, sprinkled with shimmering white stars. The infinity laid above, beautiful almost in its possibilities of life and stories that could exist above, yet too far to reach. Amongst the stars was the looming white moon, shining its white light down on the forest and subsequently the home and boy.

For as vast as the cosmos were, for as unbounded as their possibilities and power were, in truth they were inconsequential to those on the surface that reigned the forest, those encased in the burning house as the crackling grew louder same with the voices, the flames brightening only growing more intensely especially as told at the arched doorway. All windows of the house were bright orange, the heaven being corroded to hell, and inside that hell the young boy’s yelling got louder and louder, more intense as the confrontation seemed to be reaching its climax. For that it did, as the yell became a sudden shriek, and the orange glow emitting from the house grew magnitudes grander, casting tints on not only the grass floor and surrounding trees of the forest, but even to the young boy whose body yet again was drenched in orange both his skin and clothing. Even from such a distance there was immense heat radiating out of the house such that the boy started to sweat for it felt his body was melting. It only got worse as the shrieking grew even more ear piercing, the glow even stronger, the unkempt beast inside roaring with such unbridled rage that it seemed at any moment the whole house could burst. Yet despite the rising heat melting the boy, he did not move, not a step back, he did not even wipe his face as his hands just remained by his side with unmoved arms. He couldn’t move regardless of the dangers before him, he was locked in place with the only parts of his body moving being his hairs which dangle like the creases in his shirt.

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

It was then when the intense orange glow was abruptly devoured by an immensely oppressive white glow that didn’t take a second to dominate any orange from the house’s windows and doorway, stripping the tint off of the trees and boy but instead replacing it with its own. Not only that, but the crackling and roars of the inferno are soon overpowered by the sound of an inordinate hum, almost angelic, or rather ethereal as it certainly did not sound native to this world. Even then the hum grew louder at a rate exponential compared to the flame as it quickly became the sole source of audible sound, and with it grew the white light that while only reaching out through the few windows and doorway managed to envelop the entire house. Not only that however, it continued to grow rampantly into the forest, consuming the grass floor and nearby trees into a white void without even so much as a shadow remaining.

Such forceful power cast a mighty wind from the house, so much that the boy’s hair waved so intensely it nearly all flew behind, pulling back every hair as though to tie it as his shirt wrinkled more chaotically. In fact even the surrounding trees started to react, the leaves rustling above the same as the branches held by them, and the trees close to the house even started to bend away as though a hurricane was sweeping through the forest.

Even then, it all paled in comparison when from within the house that was no more than a bright white light expelled one ultimate cry, but not that of the young boy, instead of the man who had spoken to him, the man in white who too had been devoured. It was that moment when the light and hum were unrestrained, free to expand at infinitely growing rates that consumed more of the forest: the floor lighting up and the trees disappearing into the white void.

No longer were there flames in the boy’s eyes, no longer was there that orange tint on his dulled face. Instead, his face was paling with brightening white light, and his eyes were reflecting that same light so dominative that they started to weaken, his face tensing as it was becoming difficult to maintain sight. He fought his hardest to keep peering onward, but ultimately he was defeated as the opponent just grew more, causing his eyes to shut tight, with that not even being enough as he had to mobilize his arm to cover his shut eyes with his hand. But that light had swept away the flames, it had swept away the house, and finally, it swept away the boy, devouring him without a shadow, without a trace. Instead the world, no, reality grew so bright it became a pure white, and in that whiteness there was nothing, not even the darkness.

Its mistake had been accounted for.

Thus it was all blown away.

So a new one could take its place.

Unmasking the light, in that new stands the same boy with a similarly stray expression, although the boy’s face had matured well beyond puberty in fact well into adulthood around mid forties, and while the expression was still hollow it wasn’t nearly as astounded but rather more mellow. Different too is there’s now a natural medium light cast on his face and azure eyes from the blue sky above, and a gentler breeze that brushes his long smooth black hair reaching to his shoulders.

Waving similarly to the hair is the black chainmail-fabric cape sitting on the golden sleek pauldrons running down to his elbows as part of his azure suit that mixes in black boots and gauntlets on his forearms along with white pads on his outer thighs and underarm. Frosty crystals emit a gentle luminescence on his shoulders, fingers, and shins as azure streaks glow all over his body down to his thighs, arms, and back, all originating from the pencil shaped emblem on his chest.

He has little physical similarities to the recent main resident of the manor, as his skin and overall body is healthy, his hair luscious, his clothing fresh and without aging. The main similarity is that melancholic face, the despair already dressed in.

He’s not entirely identical to Versepolis’s hero ten years ago, his face has clearly aged more than previously as there’s slight hardening from maturation, an almost worn to him that comes from a body’s continued existence, although it is still hardly comparable to the recent resident. The main difference is the loss of enthusiasm, the light was turned off.

Connected to the cape is the hood which is down to reveal the man’s head, allowing him to see with his own eyes in between the vibrant green fields sprinkled with trees the vast crater so great that the man’s body is a mere dot in comparison, the crater so deep that the layers of the Earth can be seen from the cross section down to the hollow cavern that is now not much beyond a simple black hole. It does not emit any light nor sound, and its depth leaves it difficult to peer to the very bottom despite how huge the fissure is.

In the distance stands grand sierras and mountains with a thicker forest not too far bridging, and despite the destructive site before the man the song of birds chirping plays all around from the scattered trees by the gap. Nature remains standing tall, but there is not even a trace left behind of the home that once sat in this very hole.

Staring down at the hole is the mellow man, his lips slightly parted but in a small frown, lost for words at the utter annihilation of the manor that he had lived in for so long. While his irises have a slight star-like luminescence with streaks emerging from the pupil, it’s very dull and almost dark, least compared to the glow of his suit.

Especially compared to the great cyan supersun high up in the sky over the horizon, looming over the man from behind as it imbues light and warmth to the world, although inside him there is still darkness and cold.

Unaware or rather unconcerned, the birds continue to chirp and sing to one another, for the scene had no attendees other than him, like a funeral nobody showed up to.

For no matter how far out can be seen, the man is ultimately alone by the trees of the forest, alone outside with nobody to reach, for nobody to comfort him.

At the very edge of the crater stands the man, looking down at the deep abyss once closed off and topped by a beautiful mansion, although now only upon deep inspection can any remnants of said home be visible, and those remnants are nothing more than small fragments of wood glistening on the surface of the lake.

There are no buildings, no garages, no gardens, no driveway, not a single identifiable component of the house left standing on the surface, for all of it had fallen into the underworld, gone from the above.

Leaving the boy to just stare at the remains of his home all alone in the fields.

Remains of all he had.

Gone without him able to fix it.

Gone before he could fix it.

For he was too late.

Always too late.