The dust flew over the room, making it tough to take a single breath. It didn't really affect those in front of me, but my body, slammed to the ground with blood filling up my mouth, certainly didn't help the case. The awful iron taste kept me conscious, though not as well as the heavy kicks I received in the stomach every time I answered to the hoarse demand.
"Tell us the name of your boss, right now!", "Quit keeping your tongue up the ass and speak!", "Useless piece of shit, if you do not tell what you were after, I will kill you!" those were just some of the lines those people puked upon me, but no matter how much they parroted it, my answer remained unchanged. Despite that, I still whispered with a whistle through my missing tooth.
"I do not kno-"
And here came another kick, even before I managed to finish my line. My eyes were blurry, but I could clearly hear their giggles and joy after I coughed up blood and vomited, which was nothing but stomach juices at this point. The jarring tone of their laughter made it clear that their efforts to extract information were half-hearted. Perhaps, they knew from the beginning that my words were useless regardless of their actions. In the end, who in their right mind would ever open up to a man with no ancestry, an orphan who joined the gang not even out of desperation, but simply because there was no other way for such useless trash to survive?
I was short, weak, and slim, an awful fighter but a decent snatcher. That was also my name, Dusk the Snatcher. If any gang member had a dirty job, even the crooks or chore boys who joined recently, they would ask Dusk the Snatcher, and he would do it out of goodwill. With a smile and a great deal of enthusiasm, like the best friend picking up the slack for a favour in return. Naturally, no one would ever choose to return a favour to Dusk the good fellow. He was humble and forgiving, if there was ever malice in his eyes you could always just smack his head and force the positivity out...
I had been in that basement for a few days now, but I doubted there was even one person organizing a search mission. Even if my fragile body were found in that very same room, no one would announce a march of revenge for a mere pickpocket.
Thus, I was destined to remain in that place for all eternity. I could already hear my abductors' groans of annoyance and smell the bitter scent of cigarettes. They were leaving me behind, still tied to the chair and lying on the ground. I doubted they would come back now; no child ever wanted to play with a broken toy.
Even then I was not sure if minutes, hours, or days had passed since I ended up in that place. My throat was dry as a desert, and my stomach growled like a beast was ready to burst within me. I didn't know if my eyes were open or closed; the pitch-black canvas did not change no matter how hard I tried to blink. All I heard were the quiet squeaks of mice, along with their soft fur running past my nose as they feasted on the filth that came out of my mouth. I was too weak to shake them away; even gentle bites to check whether my soul was still within my body did not awaken my instincts for survival. I did not care anymore, possibly never cared in the first place what would happen to me either in ten years or today.
Soon, I could finally see it, the light flickering at the end of that dark place. It was so small and insignificant, yet it rose towards me, only for me, tempting me to forget my life and myself. It could be the end of Dusk the Snatcher, the man who did not achieve anything in life, the man whose body trapped my soul. But suddenly, before I could touch this warm light, my peace was rudely interrupted by a voice that I did not recognize.
"Is this the way you want to go? What a miserable sight, dear friend."
His tone was calm, yet snarly; reassuring, yet irritating; so lovable, yet so hateful! I did not want to hear anything about my choice from someone with this schmaltzy tenor. But no matter how hard I tried to drive away the annoying presence, not even a single huff was able to exit my mouth. And to my horror, it continued speaking.
"Are you truly satisfied with this end, Dusk? Do you not want to avenge your enemies who left you in this state? Your allies, who couldn't care less about your existence? Or your own family, who abandoned you on a whim? Tell me, Dusk the Snatcher, what do you desire?"
With every filthy word that exited his mouth, my rage boiled harder and harder. I would gladly take my revenge if I could, but I couldn't! I was dying, rotting away like a wounded animal whom hunters did not bother to finish off. These sweet wishes were outside my reach, thus hearing these questions was ridiculous!
Nevertheless, I spent my last energy to smile and whisper with words so quiet that even the rats below my nose did not react to them, I said, "That would be nice."
Then suddenly, the darkness filled with an even emptier void. I no longer felt pain or rage, only peace remained within my soul. This must be how the afterlife feels like, at least, so I thought. But then immediately, the sensation of my whole body returned with no wounds, sorrow, or tears present. My clothes, although a mess, were intact. My hair was blown with gusts of wind filled with the tender scent of pastry and oil. My eyes were filled with light, which was just as warm as the one at the end of the tunnel.
Once my consciousness fully regained from the slumber of death, I could see the world around me. So beautiful, familiar, yet so distant. As if history books took real shape and enveloped my whole existence. There were carts pulled by horses, merchants bustling and haggling in each corner, wooden and stone buildings that could only wish to reach the skies. And in front of it all stood a young man, a head taller than me, but not as youthful as I was. His hair was the colour of butter, unlike mine, that reminded me of coal. His eyes were of different colours, one green just like mine and the other red. The man's attire was the polar opposite of mine, not some pants and hoodie found in the dump, but an elegant and outdated suit, reminiscent of what a Dutch noble would wear—colourful, baggy, and elegant. But the most bizarre part was his pale skin, untouched by the light of the sun. I could easily observe the road behind him as if he were a ghost!
As soon as he noticed my intense glare, the man slowly bowed and opened his mouth to say, "Welcome to my world of wonders, dreams, and dreads, Dusk the Snatcher. I chose you to become the great hero, the noble one, the uniter of nations, and many, many more titles! All you need to do is to complete but one task!"
He stopped for a second and drew closer, I stepped back instinctively. His smile spread further, and he continued, "You were chosen to slay the god of this world! And once you accomplish this impossible deed, I will grant you any wish you desire! I swear by the name of Solitaire the Eternal."