THE UNFEELING

(Three cloaked figures stand motionless in a vast, dim cavern. The walls are slick with moisture, and the air is thick with the smell of damp earth. In the center of the cavern, a single, dying candle flickers weakly on a shallow plate of water, casting long shadows that seem to move of their own accord. Above them, the roof of the cave is unseen, lost in the blackness. Around their feet, fragments of shattered mirrors glisten faintly in the faint light, like the broken pieces of forgotten dreams.)

IDASH: We are entangled, I feel we should rest.

(Idash’s voice is barely more than a whisper, heavy with weariness. He gazes at the flickering flame, its weak light barely holding back the encroaching darkness.)

EGASH: I guess you’re right, can’t argue anymore…

(Egash sighs, his shoulders slumping as if the weight of the world presses down on him. His breath fogs the cold air, disappearing into the shadows.)

SEGASH: I think we always were.

(Segash’s words are soft, resigned, as though acknowledging a truth they had long ignored. His reflection stares back at him from a nearby shard of glass, distorted and faint.)

IDASH: We can outlanguish the world.

(Idash shifts slightly, his movements slow and deliberate, as if every step is a struggle against an invisible force. He speaks without conviction, his tone flat, defeated.)

SEGASH: It has indeed been deteriorating since the beginning.

(Segash casts his eyes toward the distant walls of the cave, where shadows dance like fleeting memories. The mirrors at their feet reflect their shattered souls.)

EGASH: Sounds just as good as any other plans we had…

(Egash chuckles weakly, but there is no joy in the sound, only the hollow echo of defeat. His gaze is drawn to the candle, its flame barely holding on, much like them.)

IDASH: Life’s famished for more things than we are.

(Idash’s voice carries the weight of hopelessness, as though the very air they breathe has grown thin, stripped of all meaning. He rubs his arms, trying in vain to ward off the cold.)

EGASH: Maybe it’s because there’s some point we’re missing. I just don’t see what it might be…

(Egash sighs, his breath fogging the air as he stares blankly at the ground. The shards of mirror reflect distorted, incomplete images of the three, their faces unrecognizable.)

SEGASH: We have wasted too much energy trying to shape the world and its walls to our image. I’m afraid there was just so much in us…

(Segash’s voice trails off, his eyes closing briefly as though even speaking has become too much effort. The candle’s flickering flame casts long shadows on the wet walls of the cave.)

EGASH: I’m also cold, as if we were trying to swim up to a boat in mid-winter cold…

(Egash shivers, wrapping his arms around himself. The air grows colder, and the distant dripping of water echoes in the cavern like a countdown.)

IDASH: I’m cold too, but there never was a ship, just sighs and fools in cold sewage.

(Idash’s voice is filled with bitterness as he stares into the void, where the broken bridge of their hopes has long since collapsed. The faint sound of dripping water seems to mock their search for meaning.)

SEGASH: How surprisingly poetic of you. It seems like we’ve entered a funhouse of mirrors, but instead of fun, we’ve found reality and its delights.

(Segash’s attempt at sarcasm falls flat, his voice devoid of any real bite. The shattered mirrors at their feet reflect broken images of the past, twisted and incomplete.)

EGASH: Never took you for sarcastic…

(Egash’s voice is quiet, almost lost in the cavern’s cold emptiness. His gaze drifts from the mirrors to the weak candlelight, which struggles to illuminate the surrounding gloom.)

SEGASH: Well, the mirrors are all shattered. Maybe I’m seeing a bit of you where my image should be. Nevertheless, the shards are everywhere, and we are barefoot.

(Segash’s voice is low, almost inaudible, as he stares at the ground. The shards of glass beneath their feet glisten faintly, cutting into their skin with each movement.)

IDASH: Can we just rest at the sight of our disassembled self?

(Idash’s tone is flat, his eyes dull as he stares at the shattered reflections of themselves. The broken pieces of mirror lie scattered across the cave floor, each one showing a different fragment of their souls.)

EGASH: The entanglement continues as our energy is drained and dripped…

(Egash speaks slowly, as if every word takes great effort. His body sags, exhausted, as if the very air is too thick to breathe. The candle flickers dangerously, on the verge of going out.)

SEGASH: That’s not all that drips… The sands of time seem to be liquified and running fast as we lay low.

(Segash’s voice is distant, his eyes fixed on the small hourglass in the corner of the cave, where the sand has turned to liquid, flowing faster and faster as time slips away.)

SEGASH: The weight of the world has been demanding more than a candlestick’s flame to light a little bit of sight.

(He gestures toward the candle, its flame flickering weakly, as though the weight of the darkness is too much for it to bear.)

IDASH: The candle burns close to the watery plate we put it on…

(Idash’s voice is empty, as though all hope has been extinguished. He watches the candle’s flame struggle, knowing it will soon be gone. The plate below it is already half-filled with water, the light flickering precariously.)

IDASH: The world doesn’t feel like the world anymore. We have been just shadows on that wall, at least until the fire runs out.

(Idash turns his back to the flame, staring instead at the cavern wall, where their shadows stretch long and distorted, as though they are no longer fully real.)

SEGASH: We are not what is cast onto this cave’s wall, it’s just that the darkness and the dampness have been confusing. It’s the walls that we project.

(Segash’s voice is quiet, contemplative, as he stares at their shadows, flickering and warping with every movement. The walls are cold, damp, and indifferent to their presence.)

EGASH: If so, then what is cast is the same oceanic feeling of ships and sighs… which were also just wind, water, and illusion. A vastness of coldness instead of warm congress…

(Egash’s voice trails off into the darkness, his words swallowed by the cavern’s vast emptiness. The candle flickers once more, casting eerie shadows across the floor.)

SEGASH: There’s a ruthless void within the cast, yes. But I reckon we can cover that gap.

(Segash’s voice is soft, barely more than a whisper. His eyes linger on the shadows as though trying to find something solid, something real, but the emptiness remains.)

IDASH: The liquid you claim to be sand drips and leaks. We should just dam it however we can. Dam it all inside. Sheltered containment is our best option.

(Idash’s voice is hard, his hands clenched as he speaks. He turns his gaze to the hourglass, now overflowing with liquid sand, dripping steadily into the abyss below.)

SEGASH: We are dangling off the edge of a whisper…

(Segash’s words are almost inaudible, his voice cracking as though the weight of it all is finally too much. The whisper of the wind echoes in the cavern, faint and distant.)

IDASH: The gap seems bigger than our legs, and the candle smaller than our thumbs.

(Idash’s voice is full of resignation, his eyes fixed on the weak flame of the candle, which is now barely more than a flicker. The darkness presses in closer.)

EGASH: It seems so. Better to lay down and stay still for a while, no?

(Egash sinks to the ground, his body folding in on itself as though trying to disappear into the shadows. His eyes remain fixed on the dying flame, as though waiting for it to go out completely.)

SEGASH: Our melody will be taken by the wind…

(Segash’s voice is the last to speak, his eyes drifting closed as the cavern grows colder, darker. The wind stirs faintly, carrying with it the last remnants of their song, lost to the emptiness around them.)