I stared at the bartender, his warning echoing in my mind. Don't be consumed by envy… The words felt like a piece of a puzzle, a small hint of the rules regarding this bizarre trial.
The train continued moving, its clatter filling the silence in the air. It didn't seem like the bartender was going to say anything else so I turned away from the bony man, my legs still shaky from the encounter with the dark entity.
After surviving that encounter I came to the conclusion that I needed to keep moving forward and fast, to understand more of what was going on around me before the place consumed me.
My eyes wandered and swept across the most notable thing in their line of sight, the hollowed. They were silent again, their earlier hysteria replaced by the same corpse-like stillness. I couldn't help but wonder what triggered their frantic outbreaks and whether it was an indication of something more sinister lurking ahead.
I scanned each passenger for any sign of change. Despite their lifeless appearances, their presence weighed heavily on me. These people were a constant reminder of the fate that awaited me if I failed after all.
As I wandered through the first carriage a certain thought suddenly resurfaced in my mind as I laid eyes on a specific person. The memory of a young girl came to mind. 'The voices… They won't stop. They're telling me… terrible things,' was what the girl in distress had said.
Voices? Were these voices related to the whispers I'd been hearing?
Most definitely.
The hollowed who went through and failed this trial must have been through a similar predicament as me. That was what I thought, even if it was supposedly different for everyone. They must have heard distant whispers that got louder and louder. Being overwhelmed by these voices they ended up losing themselves thus failing the trial.
Yet, what are they hearing? I wonder. What are the voices telling them? The clearest thing I could make out was the murmur of my own name and that's it. Maybe I haven't been around long enough to make sense of what the whispers around me were saying but the only conclusion I can make in that regard is envy.
Being consumed by the voices meant being consumed by envy.
Why envy…
What is envy?
To my knowledge, envy is a feeling of unquenchable longing caused by someone else's possessions or qualities. A powerful emotion, one that can twist and corrupt even the strongest of wills.
Was that really the centerpiece of the trial? If so, why? What was the relationship between envy, the trial, and myself?
My mind raced, trying to connect these dots. Just then the scenes in the weird dream I experienced came back to me. People were laughing, enjoying their lives. Lives filled with joy and belonging.
Was that dream meant to stir envy within me? To shove it in my face everything I lacked and desired? Were the voices meant to fill my head with envious thoughts? With the events that made up my life and my physical condition, wasn't I the most envious?
I took a seat at the very back of the train, taking a moment to gather myself. What do I do now? How do I overcome the trial?
***
Days blurred together as I tried to keep my resolve from fading. The whispers were constantly present, like a persistent, annoying hum echoing at the back of my head. They only continued to grow louder and louder the more time I spent twiddling my thumbs, and the louder they became the more coherent.
Every now and then I could make out a few insulting words like fool, weak, and useless, as well as other terms that I held with a complicated thought like family, friends, and happiness.
Each time I managed to hear a comprehensible whisper, my head would sting unpleasantly as if my brain was on the verge of imploding under the weight of pain. My body was also affected, my limbs would grow heavy and hard to move, and my heart would beat so fast I feared it would pop straight out of my chest.
When night came, it only got worse, and much more unbearable. When the shadowy being appeared I hid away in the cabinets within the bar area. My hands were tainted an alarming color from all the biting and scratching I did.
Unfortunately, the pain was a necessary distraction I needed in order to keep my mind away from focusing too much on the whispers. However, I soon came to realize that this strategy wouldn't work forever.
The idea of peaceful sleep became a distant, unattainable goal. Each time I closed my eyes I feared the dreams would return, dreams of happiness and belonging that only added fuel to envious thoughts. It was difficult at first but I forced myself to stay awake causing my body to grow exhausted with each passing minute. When I'd accidentally slip into unconsciousness, sure enough, my dreams became more vivid than reality.
During the days, I roamed the train, desperately searching for any more answers or clues as to what I was supposed to do. I avoided eye contact with the hollowed, their vacant stares a reminder of what awaited me if I failed. The only time I could truly breathe was during this time, but the whispers never truly left. They were always there, scraping away at me at the edges of my thoughts, whispering fragments of my own name and other incomprehensible murmurs.
Every night, I could feel the oppressive presence of the dark entity moving through the carriages, searching for me. The hollowed passengers would periodically break into fits of panic, their cries pressing down on me in the darkness where I hid, only to return to their eerie silence by morning.
On the fourth day, I rolled out of the cabinets once daytime came and stared idly up at the glistening bottles full of liquid that were neatly placed on shelves. I took deep breaths while feeling my hands throbbing.
My thoughts became jumbled, and my vision was slightly blurry due to my sleep-deprived mind. My body felt weak and difficult to move. Currently, I felt just as I did every time I drew a living breath.
How much longer is this going to continue?
My resolve was beginning to crack without me even noticing. I gulped down, feeling my throat unmistakably dry. Looking up at the glass bottles filled with unidentifiable liquids only accented the feeling further.
Just as I could feel my heart pound, the pain in my hands, the headaches, and all other complicated feelings causing turmoil within me I could also feel hunger and thirst.
It seemed I was running out of time. I needed to do something. First and foremost, I need a drink.
I slowly and groggily stood up, my body swaying with each movement. I rubbed my face thoroughly, feeling a subtle itch at the corner of my eyes. As my vision focused I was able to catch a glimpse of my reflection against one of the many glass bottles stocked.
My face looked slightly red in the area where I rubbed my hands against my face. My eye bags were quite apparent, even against the faint reflection of the glass.
Without much thought, I grabbed that same bottle which seemed to stare back at me in my own image. I pulled two small metal pincers that were dug into the pin filling in the orifice of the bottle and popped the cork open.
I waved the bottle in circles, feeling its contents swaying around, making sure it was well mixed. I peered into the hole, eyeing the dark green-colored liquid warily, hoping it would be green apple flavor.
I hesitated before taking a small sip only to pull back immediately. My face twisted as the green liquid burned its way down my throat.
It seemed these bottles contained exactly what one would think.
I paused for a moment, rethinking my decision but in my current state, I had no other alternative but to fall on. Desperation clawed at me, and before I knew it, I continued drinking. Not only because of the thirst but also because I was so sick of this place.
I don't know much about alcohol. I've never drunk it in my life due to my weak immune system, plus I'm not of age to drink. From what I could assume alcoholic beverages were just that, beverages. I feel thirsty so naturally, I'd want to drink something. Little did I know the result of this decision and little did I care.
I drank half the bottle which satisfied my thirst, only briefly. Soon, I found the bottle empty, and, annoyed by the whispers invading my thoughts, I reached for another.
I took my seat on one of the many stools that lined the way along the bar table and drank myself like an underpaid office worker.
As that second bottle reached its end, I began to eagerly tap all my fingers against the wooden surface of the table. I straightened myself, ready to take another sip but before I could, the world before my eyes began to tilt.
I let out a startling yelp as I felt myself losing balance in my seat. Turns out I had put all my weight on one side causing me to fall over and hit the floor with a thud.
What… happened…
I wondered as I struggled to get up.
I feel unnaturally warm...
After much struggle, I managed to learn how to navigate my swaying world and slowly stood up. I almost tripped once again but managed to catch myself on the bar table beside me. I put all my weight on it worried that I'd drop to the floor.
I remained still, realizing that the whispers had been drastically reduced. They seemed distant, almost muted, like the rustling of leaves against a calm breeze. It was almost soothing, even.
I drank more, finding my thirst unquenchable. A certain numbness spread through my body, something I never felt before, and the weight of my anxiety lifted, even if only temporarily.
Time ticked by, and my sense of it was lost completely. I'd been just sitting there, breathing slower than normal, mildly sweating, and behaving oddly. I'd sometimes find myself messing with my clothing, pulling my hair, or blinking constantly unsure of when I even started.
However, the sunset caught my eye and I sat there watching as the darkness crept back into the train. By this point, I knew I couldn't keep running and I'd resolved myself to take action. The alcohol running through my system gave me a false sense of courage.
"Screw it I'm doing it," I muttered to myself. "I'm going in."
I took one last sip before slamming the glass bottle onto the table. I dragged my body off the chair and stumbled through the carriages. I passed the hollowed who were already beginning to behave erratically and made my way toward the front of the train.
Step after step, the cries of the hollowed filled the air, yet I refused to keep my sight on any of them for too long and merely stared ahead until I reached my destination.
The only reason I looked around was due to the possibility of a certain presence making its way toward me since I wasn't hiding today. However, no such thing happened, the dark entity was nowhere to be seen. I did think it odd but I didn't complain.
At the end of the fourth carriage lay an ominous entrance, revealing a mass of impenetrable darkness beyond an opened doorway. Once again, I felt my nerves stand on end and despite my drunken state, I wanted nothing more than to turn around and walk away.
For a second, I contemplated that scenario but in the end, I let out a deep breath, following through with my original plan of going in.