Dawn- An age of Darkness

Daarc's body flowed with the water. 

He wasn't conscious and he didn't suffocate. Neither were true. 

The water gently guided him forward- deep within- deep in the darkness. 

It wasn't that Daarc wasn't conscious, no- it was more like he couldn't care less. He was just staring at the distant waters, no light in his eyes. And it wasn't that he wasn't suffocating either- he just wasn't breathing. 

The sound of the flowing water didn't quite reach his ears and he didn't have any thought whatsoever.

His arm had stopped bleeding. Mostly because he didn't have any blood left. His eyes had a red tint- he wasn't alive. 

He just lost everything and living itself, was meaningless. He wanted revenge but he knew that wasn't possible. 

He was still holding the broken handle of the mystic blade. He wanted to just throw it in the water- but- he didn't. 

Was it hope?

Was it weakness?

Was it pain?

Nothing.

He didn't feel anything: or rather, he chose not to. He couldn't let go.

The water went on- he went on.

He didn't know how long he'd been flowing and he didn't know how long he'd go.

He didn't know anything. 

He just didn't.

Minutes passed, then hours, then days… still nothing.

He felt nothing. No emotion, no rage, no hunger. If perhaps the emperor was right in front of him, he would have exploded with rage, but now, he was just a husk, a husk devoid of emotion: a husk devoid of desire.

He didn't sleep, he didn't blink, he didn't think. He just stared at the water. He was underwater but he never once thought of the fact, why wasn't he suffocating- was he even breathing? 

After a long time, a long, long time, he finally stopped. 

He knew this place. He knew these waters. 

"Daarc Green…" The woman said- looking at the broken man. She also looked at the broken sword. "So, it was true, you were the apostle of Trerortra after all… why did you lie to me?" She didn't have contempt in her voice, rather, pity.

After all, to gods, mortals were nothing more than insects. And all mortals were more or less same in their eyes.

But perhaps-

Daarc didn't say anything, he didn't even look at the woman's, at Anverosa's eyes. 

"Why, Daarc Green? Why did you lie to me? Why did you give me hope?" Perhaps this goddess was different. After all, she'd been stuck here for over four millennia.

Daarc didn't say anything. 

"Why do you bear my daughter's protection, why do you bear Xerphas's blessing when you clearly betrayed the world by siding with the snake?"

Still nothing.

"Why-" Anverosa stopped. She saw something- something dark in the distance. "You." She sighed. "Fine, leave. It was but another folly of a foolish goddess, such as I to have put faith in a mortal such as you." 

Water surrounded Daarc like a bubble and he again started flowing, this time, a bit faster.

She was disappointed. Very disappointed. But Anverosa only glared ahead. "You. Why have you returned now? After all this time?"

The man was hidden in darkness. A rather old-looking cloak. "TO make things right once and for all."

He came close to the vortex of water that sealed Anverosa and planted his own hand. It didn't go through and there wasn't any way he could free her. 

Anverosa also raised her hand and tried to touch the man's hand- but- she couldn't. 

The seal was too strong. 

"But that's just too selfish."

Anverosa didn't shed a tear, but in her stead, the whole ocean let out a grief-filled moan.

***

Daarc woke up.

He coughed up some blood and water. 

'Sand?'

So, he'd washed up on a beach?

He looked behind- the sunset and the ocean. In front- palm trees and some coconut trees and a rather wide beach. So far, no sign of civilization.

But it didn't matter and he didn't care. 

He looked to his right and he didn't have a right arm: he felt a slight stinging pain but before it even registered, it disappeared, or rather, he didn't even acknowledge the pain. He only had a left arm and the mystic blade was still here- just not all of its pieces. 

He laughed. He laughed his guts out. And then he cried. "Damn it!" He punched the sand- but he felt nothing. He chose not to.

There was no one here for him. Not the old man, not his friends, not Lianne, and not even monsters- nothing. 

He tried to get up but his head felt fuzzy. He felt oddly weak and the world spun around him. He didn't have the strength. Not anymore. 

The blinding rage that compelled him to move forward, that drove him towards revenge, didn't quite work anymore. It was almost as though that rage was snuffed out by the calm waters.

He remembered it all. No, he forced himself to remember. 

Even now, he felt his consciousness being torn. He could forget everything at any moment and forget this purpose. The only purpose he still wanted to go on. To slay that wretched demon.

But it was pointless- or so his dead self-proclaimed. And so far, his dead self was winning. He didn't quite understand why he had two perspectives though.

He was still wearing his torn armor and both the mystic shield and mystic glove were lost with his other hand. But the ring was strangely stuck to the chainmail beneath his armor. 

Perhaps, the ring had a mind of its own, perhaps it was fate, or perhaps just a coincidence. 

Sigh.

But he didn't care. 

He took a step- then another- then another… He didn't have the strength to walk, so it was more of a crawl.

Gradually he reached the first coconut tree and sat down, looking at the distance. Nothing was at sea and the sun just set, giving rise to darkness: night.

Sigh.

He wanted to die- he wanted to just get this over with. But he knew he couldn't die, not because of his curse no, but because he needed revenge: the fact that he was already dead hadn't quite occurred to him yet. He couldn't really think- and he couldn't feel anything either. It was almost as though he wasn't there, he wasn't awake.

And in fact, half of him wasn't. The moment he died, he lost something precious- he'd lost his humanity.

"I'm sorry, it was all my fault. I should have never-"

The spirit with him- the dark spirit manifested. All this time, it had tried its best to protect him.

But Daarc didn't say a word- rather he just stared at the sea, no particular emotion.

Perhaps he truly felt nothing, or perhaps he pretended to feel nothing, to escape the pain.

As the night drew darker, the red tint of his eyes got deeper and grew more and more. 

He wasn't a half-dead, rather he was an undead. 

The night passed and so did a few days. Even in daylight, he didn't feel anything as the spirit's shadow magic protected him but truly- he gave up on being a human.

Daarc didn't move. He didn't need food and he didn't need sleep. He wasn't going to die from this but- he was slowly losing weight and he was becoming bones. 

This was when he understood. 'Oh, so, I'm already dead.'

So, there weren't any chances of him dying from this in the first place. 

Meaning, everything was meaningless after all. The curse, the journey, everything. 

Meaningless. 

"Please- you have to eat something!" All this time the spirit tried to speak with Daarc again and again, but nothing reached his ears. He wasn't even alive anymore. "Please! Even if they're dead- what about your beloved? What about your people?"

But nothing reached Daarc- at least nothing before he thought of Lianne. 'My beloved?'

For a second his consciousness fluctuated. 

The name of Lianne, the very memory of her ran in his mind- in loops. How could he have forgotten something so important?

But it didn't stay long and he again lost that bit of consciousness. 

But it was enough. Enough to make him remember for a second that everything wasn't meaningless after all. 

After nine relentless, sleepless, foodless, and blink-less days, he finally closed his eyes and fell to his left. Sleeping soundly- after a long, long time. 

Whether he'd open his eyes ever again, was a different matter.