MF1.0 - 43 - Hopes and Nightmares

The void was a thing from a nightmare. The world around it was warped, there were bodies of those who had taken their own lives in the face of the horror it represented, and there was the terrible wind that was slowly sucking their whole world into it. The reports had been right, it was like looking at everything and nothing all at once. Had it not represented the end of the world, Astrin was sure that philosophers would have looked for the meaning of life in it. Mela took his hand and they pushed forward – it was too late to go back. Weren’t they past the point of no return? ‘Mela…’ he said as he slowed his pace. ‘We don’t have to do this.’ She refused to look at him. ‘It was your idea.’ ‘We can bring Natenal into the world, then go.’ She let his hand go. ‘If I see my child, I will never make the jump. If he is here, alive, smiling at me, I would never take the chance.’ He stared at the void, his teeth chattering and his mouth dry. ‘What if it…what if I’m wrong, what if we’re wasting our only chance?’ She turned, stood on tiptoe and kissed him then smiled. ‘I believe in you.’ She ran for the void. ‘MELA!’ A pipe hit him in the face. ‘Wake up, beast!’ ‘MELA!’ The pain in his joints increased. ‘NO!’ His stomach stirred. The pipe hit him again, and he sank lower to the floor. He prayed that the cold lady would take mercy on him and free him from this life soon. The mirror was going to fall – or it had fallen, he had no way to keep a track of time. Mela was gone, he wasn’t going to save her, he’d given up on that fantasy. His baby was dead. There was nothing left for him in this world, or any other. ‘Kill me!’ he screamed at his unseen tormentor. Thick, dark blood obscured his vision and only served to make the experience more like a nightmare. The pipe hit him one more time, then his tormentor laughed, he heard the sound of the door slamming a moment later. ‘Lady,’ he mumbled through broken teeth and bloodied lips, ‘please take me from this place.’ This world was out of touch with reality, creatures hid away from the people, only daring to come out at night, or peek through the corners. No one had come to save him, no spirits had visited him, none were decent enough to kill him. It was madness. The pain made it impossible to sleep, though it stirred old thoughts and fears. What if this wasn’t another world at all? What if this was the void? There were always the stories of those who had come close to death, but made it back, they had said that they had revisited their lives, seen old memories and forgotten faces. The void was the tool of destruction, it had been pulling Dajulveed apart, it was the memories of a hundred thousand people and places, their dreams and memories, their imaginings and fears. What if this was just the nightmare before he died? His stomach stirred. His baby kicked.