The firmaments were sealed off and he was stuck forever in the abyss.
He was that kind of little child – the one that overflowed with passion and love and therefore, pain.
His screams and pains were overflowing like that and everything else remained quiet, listening to the tragedy. They were like that for a few minutes until it gradually and slowly calmed down altogether.
When everything fell back to where it belonged, Airen brewed some tasty, warm drink and offered it to the boy.
Toren received it with pleasure and sipped on it slowly.
The flowers are swaying by the cold breeze again, the fields were lush and glowing once more, and the world became a tad bit brighter again.
Just the way it used to be.
After finishing up the drink, Airen caressed his back and comforted him with her slightest gestures.
"Are you alright now?"
Toren nodded and immediately apologized for the trouble he had caused in the peaceful world.
He must have made the living creatures, seen and unseen, uncomfortable.
Airen told him that it was fine and he was relieved at her words.
After a few more hours of appeasing his chaotic mind, Airen mentioned a rather peculiar proposition. She asked if he wanted to enter the world of the young prince's kingdom – the memory he had seen while he was trying to paint again then.
Toren was quite hesitant.
The scene might or might not give him answers, but it would probably hurt him a lot.
He had enough of things that pains him, but he still decided to go through it.
He told Airen than he would like to talk with the young prince and she offered the way towards a different gateway. Toren felt quite nervous crossing it along with doubts until a gush of confusion had wrapped around him.
He was transported into a huge, dimmed room.
It had plain, neat blue wallpapers and floors, which are moonlight-stricken from the large glass window by the side.
In the middle was a king-sized bed with a little boy tucked in.
Later on, the prince woke up and glanced at his unusual guest.
Toren was shocked to see the young prince's features – pale, wrinkled skin, bloodshot eyes sinking onto his sockets, dried and chapped lips, and cheeks sinking inwards. His skeleton was also clearly seen, as if his flesh had crushed beneath the gaps of his joints.
"You must be from another realm," The young prince said. "A lot of people have recently been visiting my room after reading my tale. Do you already know who the author is? I think you have met the person already."
Toren swallowed a lump and collected his courage to speak. "I do not know what you are talking about. I came here after the memories of your life and death seeped in my mind."
"Why? Did you perhaps lose your own memories?"
Toren nodded. "I actually thought that I was you."
"Then you must have read my tale before losing yourself. And the first thing you have recovered is the memory of me."
"Then you and I were an entirely different person?"
The young prince stared at him intensely with an eerie silence, as if dissecting his soul in ways no one ever had. He was constantly tilting his head like an undead and frequently slanting his eyes as if peering through his deepest core.
"Initially, I thought we were. But at a closer look, it turned out that we might be the same person. At the same time, we are not."
"What do you mean by that?"
"You have seen the deep blue flower already. You already know who the author of my tale was. And you have chased desperately for your passion, even sold your soul to the devil. We were not much that different, then."
"What are you talking about? I have not done a single thing of what you just told me!"
"How are you so confident and trustful of yourself when you do not even know who the hell you are?"