His body felt so weak that it reminded him that he was not as immortal as he thought he was. He had seen things and experienced things that no one would believe. He had fought the worst the universe could give, and had come unscathed. It was odd that he was losing to the one thing he could never avoid. Time was his enemy.
I had so much time, he thought. So much time yet I couldn’t even save my children. I know that they are creations of the Burnt Woman, but I want to save them. I want to save them from this hellish torture. Is the cost of saving them this sea of people? Those who are lost? Einar himself is not alone in this predicament. They could do nothing about this, and even if they do. They cannot decide.
He saw how many of the lost here were settling down. According to Einar, the travelers here had traveled the edges of the horizon, and yet couldn’t find the exit out of this place. They had found the bottom and the only way out was through a thick barrier that no technology or magic could pierce.
He stayed in front of the infants with a somber look on his face. His face on the verge of crying. His skin was wrinkled. His clothing was worn with travel. His eyes were faded red, and he stares at the twins who were crying in pain. His eyes reflected the compressed energy that drops from the eyes of the twins.
He held his chest, lowered his head, and started shaking. His body shook as he snorts, and wipes his eyes. He stayed in front of the pods with muffled sobbing.
Nolan didn’t stand up. He stared at the twins who were sustaining the world. That was all he could. He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw that it was Ciara. She wrapped her sleeved arms around his shoulder.
“I’ve tried. I cannot do anything. Forgive me.”
He held her arm. “There is nothing to forgive. You didn’t do this. Not the you that is with me.”
She said nothing. Nolan held her arm until she left him alone. His eyes were fading. In his view, the world became black and white. There was a heavy pressure that was bearing down on his body. The sheer weight of this pressure made him want to vomit. His insides churned. His hands shook madly as he then held his head. He started breathing rapidly. He held his chest and clenched it with eyes squeezed.
“Nolan!?” He heard Ciara’s voice.
The voices that surrounded him grew louder. He heard and saw the millions of those who walk the Bleak Path wail at him simultaneously with murder. They pointed their fingers at Nolan while shouting, “You fail,” without a stop. The voices rebelled and his brittle will broke even more apart
“Ah,” he mouthed. “Please, stop, just stop, leave me alone will you!?”
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He felt someone’s hands pulling him back. He saw nothing other than the darkness and those who died before him, pointed their fingers at him. “You have failed, Walker. Again. When will you learn?”
He couldn’t control his shaking. His breathing grew ragged until all of his consciousness went away.
He then woke up in a void with a person that looked like him biting his fingers, dragging his nails on stone, and chatting his teeth to the point of his teeth breaking. He scratched his cheeks and tore it while repeatedly saying, “Forgive me, forgive me, without no end.”
When the person in front of him in this became unmoving. Nolan saw a vision that resembled a strip of film. He saw every death and every pain that he had suffered. All that suffering that lead to him seeing the end of the world. In every life, he had not been part of anything. Either he was too late or that before he could even become something the world has already saved itself. He was left alone wondering if he could have done something more. Could he have done something that would have helped? He saw himself stand alone while the world cheers. His lonesome self standing in the background of the hero. He was a footnote to every story and nothing more than a text flavor for the person who shone brighter than him. She was the sun while he was a light bulb.
Here he was in the many visions without doing anything. He was Nolan Of Nobody, a savior to no one. That was his role and even the power he had attained meant nothing. He could fight monsters, but could never save those who he wanted to save.
“I did things because it was the decent thing to do”
“I did it because it was necessary.”
He told himself that. But what was the use of making excuses inside a heartless void? Crack, he was breaking and his soul was crumbling piece by piece.
Death was coming for this fragment. That’s right, he was just a fragment. He wasn’t Nolan Salvatore, just another part of a soul that was unable to return home. It was a cruel fate left for a copy. That was all he is and yet he did not fear that. He was who he was no matter what. But yet what he feared and hated the most was his inability to save what was in front of him.
His hands were never meant for saving those who were in need. He was a Bleak Walker, a man who walked the bleak path, accepting what the world can give him, knowing that he can get through it. However, the pain that burns his heart did not cease.
Nolan Salvatore opened his eyes. It had no light other than the sigil that shone on it. The dove of thorns, the snake of woes, and the eternal hawk circling his pupils. The world turned red as the madness of those who held the curse turned from curses into maddened laughter. His face did not change. His eyes remained stolid as he stares at the space.