Prince of The Abyss

"Aether... what is it that you desire?"

Aether shrugged, looking at the figure in front of him, recognizing it as himself.

"What I desire is none of your business," Aether frowned, his eyes filled with many emotions.

But the one that triumphed among the restwas hatred.

The same hatred that was causing wreckage inside the gentle ocean that was his eyes.

The figure didn't respond; instead, he let Aether answer for himself, smiling at him. He could sense the mockery inside it, like he was nothing but a pathetic dog.

The figure was himself. It knew him best, yet it kept asking the same question over and over again.

He had grown tired of it, of himself.

He took a deep breath, letting the cold air enter his lungs. He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down.

But that was easier said than done.

After opening his eyes, he looked at his incarnation, his soul filling with disgust at the sight of its smile.

"You want to know what I desire? To live." Aether stood his ground with pride, not showing a hint of weakness in his proud persona to the prowling devil.

His voice was filled with perseverance, but in reality, both he and himself knew that this was far from the truth.

Yet his heart still screamed, trying to convince him that this was what Clarise had wanted. For him to live. He remembered her telling him this many times, but he never paid much attention.

As Aether was reminiscing about the past, the laughter of the figure stole him from the beautiful memories he was reliving.

"But is that really what you want? Don't tell me you settled down with something so pitiful as that."

At first, the figure seemed to be mocking Aether, but near the end, it felt as if its voice held true emotion inside.

Almost like it was hurt, like it was pleading with him.

He had never had this happen before. It made him rethink his decision for a second.

But that thought was gone in a heartbeat, as his eyelids slowly began opening.

He cursed, rubbing his eyes.

For how long had the same dream been repeating? Well, what he knew was that he was definitely growing tired of it.

Aether stared at one of the walls of his room.

Needless to say, he wasn't a morning person.

Forcing himself to get up, he made his way over to the kitchen, grabbed a small piece of bread from the drawer, and sat down in the dining room.

As his teeth tore into the bread, he looked around at his familiar surroundings. Not far away, he saw his bed, and the living room wasn't far either, just some steps away.

He sighed, embracing the reality.

Truly, none of these rooms existed. His bedroom was just some clothes lying on the floor. The kitchen was just some drawers Clarise had made herself from one of the countless shelves in the abandoned library.

And the dining room was just a table and two chairs sitting next to each other.

It was just that one was empty nowadays, collecting dust.

Though it wasn't that bad.

At least the rain wasn't falling on him. He also had a place where he could hide and enjoy his life.

He had a home.

Yet it didn't feel like it anymore.

It was lonely. Living all by himself in a giant library.

There was no sound, no laughter anymore. Just himself.

He continued tearing into the bread, scowling.

And what if it was lonely? It didn't matter to him. It was better to be alone. At least now he could sleep all he wanted without someone waking him up every time.

As Aether continued eating the bread, he felt as if it had turned soggy.

Confused, he paused to look at it. And he was right, the bread was wet for some reason.

But he clearly remembered it being dry when he got it. So then what could have happened to make it look and taste like it was drowned in water?

As he continued to stare at it for some seconds, a drop of water fell onto it.

He looked up at the ceiling, only to realize that it was coming from his very own eyes.

"Damn it. Not again."

Soon after, he finished eating the bread. As soggy as it was, he wasn't going to let it go to waste. And now with his belly half full, he made his way outside the library.

As the rain fell on his marble skin, a lonely cloak manifested around his body.

The cloak hung loose around Aether's frame, stitched from rough, uneven burlap the color of old dust. It draped like something meant to erase him, thin, ragged, and dirt-stained at the hem. The hood cast deep shadows over his face, and where seams had split, someone had mended them with crooked thread and rusted wire.

It looked rubbish, not meant to attract attention.

But it was not like he wanted any.

If anything, the cloak was perfect. It helped him disappear.

And of course it was. Clarise had handpicked it herself to be sure that it was good enough for all the other birthdays she had missed.

Walking through the streets of the district, Aether saw many faces, heard many voices, and smelled many odors.

Around him, many people were trying to earn their meals. He knew how it felt not to have anything to eat. That was why he stopped to listen.

Just a couple of matters away, a single mother and her child resided.

The woman, with her auburn hair and her eyes filled with hope, smiled for her child who was crying in her arms, beseeching her to feed him.

Nodding, the woman pulled out the last piece of bread she had.

The child took the piece of bread and dug in, staring at his mother's face.

Aether, looking at the bruised hand and the dirty face of the woman, could tell her story in seconds. And it wasn't a pleasant one. But what story was pleasant in the Withered Rose district?

"Mommy, but aren't you going to eat too?"

The child asked with his mouth full, making his mother chuckle.

She gave him a relaying glance while shaking her head in denial.

"I'm not hungry. You should eat so you can grow big and strong like your father was."

Hearing about his father, the child instantly fastened his pace, trying to grow faster so he could protect his mother.

The mother stared at him, towering from above so the rain didn't dare fall on her child.

She, of course, was hungry. She was absolutely starving. But she couldn't make her child worry. What kind of mother would she be? And she couldn't afford to buy bread for herself. That was their last piece for the week.

She couldn't remember when was the last time she had felt the taste of food. Two weeks, three, four, either way, it was a long time, but she didn't regret giving all the food to her child one bit.

Soon, her son finished eating. But deep inside him, he was still very hungry. And seeing the sorrow inside his eyes, his mother almost broke down in tears.

How bad of a mother was she if she couldn't do the simplest thing to satisfy her child's hunger?

But as she continued blaming herself, a lone figure approached, dropping a piece of bread in front of them.

The woman stared in awe at the figure, trying to see its face. But the hood of the cloak he was wearing was casting a dark shadow on it, making it almost impossible to see anything on it.

And soon, as fast as it appeared, the figure disappeared.

...