Awaking in the Darkness

The boy's eyes fluttered open, but the world remained black, an endless void stretching in every direction. He lay still, the cold ground beneath him biting into his skin, its surface rough and harsh, as jagged rocks dug into his back. Slowly, his fingers twitched, brushing the sharp ground, but there was no warmth, no familiarity to be found.

He blinked again, confusion clawing at his mind. There was no light—none at all—yet he could see… or perhaps sense his near surroundings. He was lying atop a narrow path with only one way forward; on his left and right was an abyss, deeper than his senses could perceive.

He pushed himself up into a seated position, his muscles trembling from the effort, though he didn't know why he was so weak. His breaths came in shallow, sharp gasps, and he struggled to steady them. Panic began to rise in his chest like a waking storm.

"Where am I?" he whispered, his voice cracking. It sounded foreign in his ears, as if it didn't belong to him.

A sharper question then struck him, more terrifying than the first. Who am I?

All thoughts stilled as he delved into his mind; it was blank and empty as the world around him. He tried to reach for something, anything… but there was nothing. No memories, no fragments, no clue to tether his existence to reality. Just… blankness.

His trembling hand reached for his face, tracing features that felt unfamiliar. His heart pounded faster, fear blooming in his chest like a wildfire. He scrambled to his feet, his legs unsteady beneath him as the jagged terrain bit into his feet, causing him to wince in pain.

"Hello? Anyone?!" he called, louder this time. His voice disappeared into the abyss, swallowed by the oppressive silence. There was no echo—no response, just the weight of isolation pressing down on his shoulders. He was truly alone.

The boy's feet faltered, and he fell to his knees, the weight of the darkness pressing down on him harder than ever. The pain from the ground piercing his knees was almost negligible compared to the pain in his chest.

His hands clutched at the rough ground as a shuddering breath escaped his lips. Tears began to gather in his eyes, blurring what little he could sense of the oppressive darkness.

He didn't know why he was crying—was it fear? Loneliness? Or the unbearable ache of not knowing who he was? The first tear rolled down his cheek, warm against his cold skin, before dropping soundlessly onto the ground beneath.

More followed, falling freely now, carving hot trails down his face. His small chest heaved as he tried to suppress the sobs threatening to rise. But he was alone—so utterly, terrifyingly alone—and the silence gave him no comfort. He raised his trembling hand to his face, swiping at his tears with the back of his fist, but they wouldn't stop.

"I don't…" his hoarse voice broke, barely a whisper in the void. "I don't know what to do…"

The words hung in the air, unanswered, vanishing as quickly as they came. The darkness swallowed them whole, just as it had swallowed everything else.

And still the tears fell, dripping onto the cold, lifeless ground below—a fleeting warmth in a world of unyielding cold.

*

How long has it been? The boy thought as he stumbled forward, his numb feet cut and bruised from the rocky surface beneath. Every step felt heavier than the last, his legs trembling with exhaustion.

His mouth was dry, his throat raw as though coated in sandpaper. Hunger gnawed in the pit of his stomach, a deep, hollow ache that twisted and pulled with every passing moment.

His hands wrapped around his gaunt midsection, clenching his stomach as though it would relieve some of his hunger. He had no idea how long he had been walking—or if time even existed here—but the ache in his body was a cruel reminder of its passage.

To make matters worse, it was cold—so, so cold. The wind tore through the darkness like an invisible blade, its icy chill only accentuating his tired, aching body. He knew instinctively that death was approaching. I'm going to die, he thought.

As if answering his thoughts, his exhausted legs finally gave out, and he tumbled lifelessly to the ground. His vision—or what passed for vision—blurred, his breath was shallow, barely there, and his strength was fading. His body cried out for something, anything to sustain it, but the realm of eternal darkness offered no mercy.

It's over… at least I don't have to suffer anymore, he thought as he closed his eyes one last time, resigning himself to fate as his heart slowed. Then, faintly, he thought he heard something. A sound—so soft, so distant—that it could have been a figment of his imagination. It was like water dripping, the soft plink of droplets hitting stone.

Drip

His eyes shot open, hope surging in his chest. Cracked lips moved, though no sound came out at first, then, with trembling desperation, he forced the word out.

"Water…"

Drip… Drip… Drip

Again, like a diving calling, the tantalising sound of dripping water resounded in his ears. Gathering every ounce of strength remaining in his body, the boy forced himself to his feet, ignoring his body screaming in protest, and staggered toward the sound of water.

Whether the sound was real or a trick from his senses, he didn't know. But as long as there was the faintest glimmer of hope, he would keep moving. Even as his legs gave out again, he didn't stop. He would crawl until his arms gave out if he had to.

After what felt like an eternity, the sound of water became louder, it echoed in the darkness like a war drum. With renowned vigour he crawled faster, his body dragging against the jagged ground left a trail of blood in its wake as it cut across the rough surface, but he didn't care.

Finally, the terrain shifted beneath his hands, the jagged rocks giving way to fine, gritty sand. His fingertips dug into the sand, and he felt it, dampness.

His heart leapt in his chest.

He scrambled across the sandy ground, desperate and clumsy, until he found it—a single thin stream of water, no more than a few tiny droplets, seeping out of a hairline crack in the rock, coalescing into a small puddle.

The boy knelt before the crack, his small fingers trembling as he touched the damp surface. The cool droplets smeared his skin, and he brought them to his parched lips. It was barely a sip, hardly enough to fill the emptiness in his throat, but it was water.

He pressed his lips close to the crack, letting the steady, slow drip fall into his mouth. It was painfully slow, the stream too weak to drink fully, but he didn't care. Each droplet felt like a blessing, easing the fiery ache in his throat and giving him a spark of strength he thought he had lost.

For the first time since waking in this eternal darkness, he felt hope—not much, but enough. The boy pressed his forehead against the cool rock, his breathing steady. The dripping sound continued, soft and patient, and for a moment, it was the only thing grounding him to this strange, unforgiving world.

He would survive. He had to. The stream was too small to sustain him forever, but it was a sign. A sign there was more somewhere out there, he just had to find it. Not to mention he was hungry, but that could wait, for now, he would enjoy this moment of respite.

*

As the boy knelt by the crack in the rock, greedily catching each precious droplet of water, his world narrowed to the sound of the steady drip. For a brief moment, the darkness seemed less oppressive, the hunger less consuming.

Thud

But then, beneath the rhythm of dripping water, a new sound emerged—a faint, almost imperceptible noise that sent a shiver down his spine. He paused, lips still hovering near the crack, his breath hitched as he focused on the sound.

Thud

There it was again. A thud, almost like a footstep. Something moving in the darkness beyond.

His heart began to race, a cold dread replacing the brief comfort the water had brought. Slowly, he turned his head, his eyes scanning the endless void around him. Of course, there was nothing to see—the darkness was absolute. But he could sense it, a presence. The weight of unseen eyes watching him, stalking him through the darkness.

The boy's instincts screamed at him to run, but his body remained frozen, every muscle locked in place. His breath caught in his throat as he fought to suppress his rising heartbeat. He turned his full attention to the dark before him, his small fists clenching as though ready to defend himself.

Thud… Thud…

The noise grew louder, closer. So close it felt like whatever was the source of the footsteps was right in front of him, staring him down like prey before a predator. But then, abruptly, all sound ceased, and the presence disappeared from his perception.

Is it gone? Just like that? he thought as he glanced around.

For a brief moment, silence returned, broken only by the boy's uneven breaths; even the dripping water seemed to have stopped.

Swoosh

Then, suddenly, the air around him shifted. A rush of cold wind swept past his face, carrying with it a foul, rotten stench that made him gag. He felt it—the presence looming close, impossibly close.

Right behind him…