Chaos Sky: Kill the Light

Bu.....bu.....bu.....

A darkness surrounding him, filling him, encompassing every ounce of space of this abyss and still growing and ever growing.

Is that... music that plays? A piano, strumming across the deep chasms below this plane of existence... or maybe it's just the sound of his own breathing and heart thumping, racing within the hollow chamber of his chest.

Maybe it's the sound of the souls of others around him, sluggishly moving about, fluttering about, being carefree, their existences fading and slipping away ever slowly.

Is his fate, to lay here as a mere lump of meat, waiting and waiting and waiting until he rots to oblivion, without even being granted a moment or chance or momentary respite? Or was it just this eternal existence for his soul? To simply sit there, suspended, floating aimlessly around in nothing and everything, and in no direction. No goal, no destination, no purpose whatsoever. No destination...

Destination...? Ah.

That's what this place was missing. He had an epiphany. But he didn't move. He wasn't sure.

Instead, he rested and laid and stared and gazed out in the pitch darkness that swallowed him in. Many of the souls wept in a way one would normally expect from a human being with a brain in their skull. Some of them spoke and tried talking to the others, as if attempting conversation or attempting to form bonds between them. Most, however, were not at all receptive.

The darkness turned into a light, into a fiery orb that flashed bright above their heads and radiated its light all around them.

A strong pulse of light radiated outward, the walls crumbled, shards and pieces broke and cracked. It wasn't just walls; it was the sky of this soul. He floated about, alone. In an ocean of nonsensical nothingness. His body didn't have any sense of form, or gravity, no gravity meant no mass, and no mass meant no strength. He couldn't move, not a muscle or anything, nor did he need to, because his consciousness was riddled with fatigue and exhaustion. This fatigue wasn't an inconvenience or an obstacle, rather, it was like being stoned and drunk simultaneously. But he knew, somehow, even if his mind wasn't entirely coherent or whole or stable or working or normal, that it felt and saw this as a beautiful vision... or it didn't have much of a perspective to begin with... but still felt. The purest of joy and sorrow. Like happiness was just the highest peak. And there was an eternity in its journey up that path of euphoria.

A perfect being, perhaps it was a perfect existence, in this idealistic dream world. Where it'd be infinite, and no other desires needed or wanted, no hatred and no grudges, no selfish desires. Maybe just the essence of living itself...

What makes for a good life... is a question. And there is no answer for. If there was. It'd be a selfish answer. As there is no such thing as absolute morality, or absolute truth or meaning, or absolute anything.

Many a thought rushed through Zabulus' mind during that long and timeless and forever sleep of his, the sleep of ages.

Even after all he had been through in the body of his enemy, he hadn't found an answer that would satisfy the many thoughts and feelings within his soul. But now, maybe he'd become a perfect being.

Light echoed and reverberated across the abyss. And the noise shone from below him. But no, below wasn't below or below wasn't a word, he'd been above it all.

A great change in scenery and surroundings occurred before him and all around him, in every direction possible. A wooden cottage. A familiar sight, or not, he couldn't remember. Yet this was not familiar to his subconscious, nor his memories and thoughts. The walls had turned brown and white, some faded, some brighter. Everything here seemed older than his own self, and if anyone came from the other side, surely, they would be...

The feeling of someone's hair on his face was also different from anything else. His breath stopped completely. He opened his eyes to take in the environment and what's outside this house.

Then, he perceived. He was laying down on the ground of the cottage, and right above his face was Alice's, staring at him upside down, with her blonde and straight hair dangling and touching against his cheek. She looked gorgeous like a princess, her beautiful blue eyes and rosy cheeks... He was staring straight at the tip of her nose and her face, this was of course, only natural.

She continued watching him in this position for some time, her hands next to his head on the ground and her eyes gazing deeply, staring right into his soul and into the very depths and beyond.

He got lost in his own mind, looking away and back to the girl, glancing between her two gorgeous, hypnotic eyes.

The one looking at Alice, was Guillerme. He wished not to stare. So he broke away and gazed into the window, though she couldn't tell where he was looking, as his eye sockets were empty.

Alice got up and adjusted her clothes, tying her hair behind her ear. Guillerme noticed the difference between their heights immediately. Her pale skin and her flowing blonde hair, which had grown down almost to her hips.

How much time had it been since he was last the one in control? Was it weeks, or only days? Had this creature experienced something new before this period of rest? Perhaps he may have experienced new sensations, ones he did not comprehend or recognize from before. But, how can he possibly tell if the person next to him experienced this as well? He couldn't.

So, he sat straight up and pushed himself up, turning toward her, "You've changed so much, Alice." Guillerme spoke his name while walking away. His body turned towards the girl, the hooded head turned a full 360 degrees and the headless body faced opposite. Not once did he turn his gaze toward the door or windows. His shadow remained calm and motionless. The wood beneath his feet was immaculate and shiny. "You look as young as ever," Guillerme's voice said.

She seemed to understand who he was, so she welcomed this personality with a warm smile and walked slowly towards him, only to embrace him from behind. "It's only because you haven't grown a single inch yourself, Guillerme."

But that statement. That. Just one line from this small conversation. Made Guillerme realize a couple of things.

First, that it had not been mere days or weeks that had passed, but likely months, where Zabulus or the other hundred souls were in control.

Second, was a mere understanding in his own soul and mind. In simple terms; he wasn't one individual being. He was an array, an assortment. A conglomeration of personalities. Though at first there were just 3-5 of them. Somehow, he thought at the beginning that it was normal. They spoke as one voice and they laughed together at times.

Third, they were capable of falling in love, at least, those of his original 3-5...

And now that the many hundreds had assimilated, they felt the same exact same way. That was strange. Did Guillerme have romantic feelings as a part of the original of three? Maybe. He did not know. But if anything, he felt strongly connected to her, to Alice.

If Zabulus was going to do the work for him, then Guillerme might as well sit back and relax. "I don't like how you play games with me. But I suppose this time I'll enjoy it." He joked, trying to pass this off as a mere game, yet at the same time, trying to emphasize his point to her.

Alice placed her hand over Guillemer's chest. Her eyes closed and her head lowered. "If anything... I should thank you..."

Guillerme narrowed his eyes.

"Thank me?"

Alice opened her eyes and stared intensely into the shadows behind the hood. She must have seen it again. Guillerme wasn't sure, but maybe it wasn't himself inside. Yet this voice, this body, and these feelings, the way she behaved and carried herself; It felt familiar, safe.

"Hey, Alice?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think about him?" Guillerme gestured toward the opposite side.

A strange sight, no doubt. But it's all just a matter of perspective. The way his head was tilted toward the left, was to indicate Laz. Yet his body remained in a 12 o clock stance. As if a puppet on a string.

Laz was there, right in front of him. At arm's length. At the mercy of Guillerme's presence, he couldn't exactly describe why he chose to keep him this way, when he could simply give word and the other body would react the way he'd command him.

"Do you hate him? After all the trouble he caused?"

"...Not really. What's done is done."

"I see... then, what about the girl? My... sister." He said hesitantly.

"I feel the same way as Laz." She nodded in response and smiled gently.

The sun set down behind the horizon line, bringing warmth and orange, blue, and red, hues of pink into the atmosphere. Somehow, blue slithered its way through the light. Likely due to the fact that regardless of how much time passes, they are within the void in blue.

"...And... Don't you hate me?" Guillerme asked innocently and honestly, but then, as he was processing that thought, his face grew puzzled at his own question. "Or is this too late?"

Guillerme couldn't even hear her reply because of how the soundwaves were carried away from him, but he was at ease, as she embraced him so tenderly with both of her arms wrapped around him.

It felt wrong and it hurt. His emotions. They were still there, albeit different from what he could recall them feeling like. How ironic.

"Can you blame me, then...?" He sounded a little different. Not his usual playful and humorous tone, not his arrogant attitude or condescending and narcissistic disposition.

His voice wavered as the question was made, as if about to break down and cry, though he didn't break his stern stance.

His body, his legs, he had always kept to the back, and as Alice's arms embraced him, he felt as if they were grabbing onto thin air, the fact that she hadn't said a word and had done nothing to respond.

Was that a good or a bad thing...? That's a difficult question to ask. Especially since it would seem a lie if it was a good thing, though if it's a negative, then, oh well, he wouldn't dare interact with her again.

Guillerme figured they might talk for a short while more, but it was at that moment an uncomfortable silence washed over their conversation like a storm cloud passing by them. Neither knew what the other was thinking at the moment, as they had all had differing opinions, yet even then, the touch between the two continued. As if they were two reunited lovers meeting again for the very first time in a lifetime and decades apart.

Though it wasn't even ten minutes since this little reunion began, but nonetheless, Guillerme didn't protest or try resisting her tight embrace either. His body was physically uncomfortable. Was it because of how many more people were protesting in his soul? They weren't speaking but the turmoil going on deep in his heart didn't go undetected.

Did they find fault and error in his choice of actions and in his decision making process? That thought kept pushing him deeper and deeper down into uncertainty.

"Because of him... so many lives were lost and... now we have to deal with the aftermath..."

It didn't sound like an excuse. He wasn't denying his role, no, nor was he taking any credit. The fact that he even considered doing anything as severe as sacrificing humanity to fix a small mistake didn't make any sense in the slightest. And his mentality, at first was pretty childish, so the logic in his reasoning was even less rationalized. He was going around with the 'everybody will forget about us sooner or later and when that happens, we will disappear together', kind of approach. A delusion like that wouldn't just stay and remain stable forever.

He joked to himself sometimes that they'd all forget since they'd be dead, but that didn't seem too far-fetched considering how his brother is.

"Alice... I hope you can forgive me." Those words fell upon deaf ears.

She fell asleep in this position, embracing him whilst standing.

Wow... she really was sleeping, despite it all... and then, for whatever reason, the tiny flicker of the light bulb over their heads shattered.

'You have a plan for the world right?' A voice echoed from below him, resonating across his being. 'A very special plan.' The voice mused.

And so he spoke aloud with confidence and a smile, to whom nobody saw.

'Yes I have!' He responded

'This world is a mistake.' It said,

'What?' Confused, he replied.

'This world is a mistake.' It repeated.

'Your plan is a mistake.' He replied.