Seven stood in the stillness, the lich's words hanging in the air, a strange sense of comfort that only made his internal turmoil more profound.
The chaos of his memories, the weight of everything he had lost, seemed to press against him from all sides.
He had fought so hard to survive, to hold onto something, anything, that would remind him of who he was.
But now, as the lich spoke of resilience and strength, the reality of his situation hit him like a wave.
His thoughts swirled in a hurricane of emotions, each memory, each struggle, each moment of fear and loss, crashing against him, threatening to drown him.
His heart tightened.
Where did he begin? How could he move forward when everything he knew had been shattered?
But in this moment, with the lich's strange presence pressing against him, something inside of Seven finally gave way.
It wasn't the terror of the beasts, nor the suffocating presence of the wraith that had worn him down.
No, it was the sheer weight of everything he had carried. The grief, the loneliness, the brokenness, it had all been too much.
And in this moment of fragile peace, it finally broke.
Tears welled in his eyes, but it wasn't just sadness that overwhelmed him.
It was something deeper, a sense of helplessness, of exhaustion, of reaching the end of his rope and realizing there was no longer any strength left to keep going.
He had been running, fighting, surviving for so long that he had forgotten what it felt like to truly stop, to breathe, to acknowledge just how much pain he had been carrying.
The world, the lich, his past, his future, it all blurred into one heavy, unbearable weight that seemed to crush him from the inside out.
His body trembled as his knees gave way, and he sank to the ground, the tears flowing freely now, unrestrained.
The quiet sobs, the rawness of his emotions, felt like a release, a moment of surrender to the pain he had been running from for so long.
"It's not fair," he muttered between ragged breaths, the words breaking through his sobs.
"I d-don't know anything about magic or how to go back. All I k-know is that I want to return, but I have no i-idea how."
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that he had been thrust into this world, that he had lost so much, that his family had been ripped away from him.
It wasn't fair that he had fought so hard, only to find himself here, in a strange and dangerous place, with no way back.
And yet, there was no one to blame but himself.
The mistakes he had made in previous years, the battles he had fought against addiction, they had all led him to this moment.
He wasn't strong enough. He wasn't resilient enough. He wasn't enough.
The lich's presence shifted, seeming to sense the change in Seven.
For the first time, there was no cold judgment in the lich's thoughts, no detached reverence. Instead, there was an understanding, an empathy that seemed to stretch across the space between them.
"Seven…" the lich's voice resonated, softer now, as though it was speaking not to a mere mortal, but to a soul torn apart.
"It is well to break, child. It is well to feel this pain. Thou art not alone in this struggle. Thou need not carry this weight alone."
Seven's heart wrenched at the words. He had never allowed himself to break.
He had always pushed through, fought through, believing that if he kept moving forward, if he kept surviving, it would eventually get better.
But in that moment, as the tears continued to fall, he realized that he had been lying to himself.
There was no moving forward until he acknowledged the past, until he allowed himself to grieve, to feel everything he had buried deep inside.
"I… I know not how to move forward anymore," Seven whispered, his voice shaky, barely a whisper against the silence of the dark world around them.
The lich's response was slow, deliberate, but it carried a weight of truth that settled deeply within him.
"Then, move not forward, little chimera. Not yet. First, allow thyself to heal. The road ahead is long, and there shall be times when thou wilt stumble. But strength doesn't come from never breaking. It comes from knowing when to let the pieces fall. And when you're ready, you can put them back together."
Seven couldn't speak.
The words hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over his defenses, forcing him to face everything he had been running from.
For the first time, he allowed himself to truly feel the depth of his loss, the years of pain, the broken dreams, the weight of the world on his shoulders.
And for the first time, he didn't try to push it all away.
He let the pain wash over him, and in that release, something started to shift within him. The anger, the guilt, the fear, they hadn't vanished, but they had lost their grip on him.
He wasn't ready to move forward. Not yet. But maybe… maybe he could start to heal. One step at a time.
The tears slowed, the tension in his chest easing just a little.
Seven stayed there, on his knees, in the cold dark, allowing himself to break, to feel, and to begin the long, painful journey of piecing himself back together.
The lich watched, its presence lingering, patient, as though waiting for Seven to find his own way out of the darkness.
After what felt like an eternity, the lich spoke again, its voice filled with quiet understanding.
"Thy mind is a tangled mess, child. What thou need is true rest, not the sleep brought on by fainting." The lich's tone softened, almost tender.
It reached out, placing a cold, bony hand on Seven's shoulder.
The touch, gentle yet unwavering, seemed to drain the last of Seven's strength.
His vision blurred, his body too weary to resist, and in that moment, he surrendered to the exhaustion, collapsing into a deep, unguarded sleep.