Humans are such fascinating creatures.
They laugh, they cry, they cling to life yet take it from one another. They love yet cause each other pain. They desire so many things, yet their time is fleeting. When death comes for them, they resist, yet some willingly embrace it long before their time is up.
Is this what it means to be alive to relentlessly pursue things beyond their grasp as though their very existence depends on it?
How foolish.
How tragic.
But no matter how long I have watched them, they never cease to intrigue me. It makes me wonder… what is it like to live? To truly experience a human life?
As I pondered this, I overheard a voice in the distance, his words are like answers to my questions. Drawn by curiosity, I drifted towards the Candles of Life and gazed upon an old man and his son, sitting on a magnificent balcony, sipping coffee in the golden morning light.
I found myself lingering, listening intently.
"Living a life means being swept away," the old man said, his voice warm with nostalgia. "To love so deeply, so passionately, to have that obsession for someone and blind devotion for that person"
"That sounds like something Mom used to say, Dad," the young man replied, smirking.
The old man sighed. "I worry about you, Wade. You're at the same age I was when I married your mother, yet here you are."
"I have Abby, you know." his son countered, a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Do you love her?" the old man asked.
"Like you loved Mom?" the young man mused. "Perhaps."
"Are you going to marry her?"
"Most likely. She's the safest choice. Don't you like her?"
"I do," the old man admitted, "but your relationship... it lacks fire. There's no thrill, no passion, no madness. You're choosing her because she's convenient, not because she sets your soul ablaze."
"Dad, I'm not getting any younger to be playing with fire nor love anymore."
"Love isn't about playing around, son. You have a great job, my good looks, and a big heart, why settle for something so... lukewarm? I am not telling you to cheat nor to leave Abby. I just wanted to be open, Be open to something greater. Find that one, the one who makes your heart race. And when you do, don't listen to your mind, but to your heart. Fall so deeply in love that you lose yourself in it. Take risks. Be a fool for love. Yes, you might get hurt, and you might even hurt someone in return, but that's what it means to live. Without passion, without madness, life is nothing more than a slow death."
How ironic… a slow death he says.
And I… I am a Death God. As I watch his candle flicker slowly away, his time is running out.
Then I heard a sorrowful cry from one of the candles. I looked intently and again realizes how truly fascinating human life was.
The old man having lived a long life, wonders when his time will come. While Others, far too young, are desperate to meet death before it is due.
Just like this girl.
I flickered through the Candles of Life; drawn by the anguished cries of this young female whose soul whispered a wish for her own demise.
In the heart of the city's nightlife district, where neon lights shine like false stars and the air reeked of alcohol and desperation, she wept. A girl, on the cusp of adulthood, her eyes swollen from hours of crying.
The reason? The only parent she had ever known had just sold her to the highest bidder in a nightclub, her innocence auctioned off to a pack of depraved old men.
How cruel humans can be to one another. It is simply vicious.
"No, Father! Please, don't leave me here!" she sobbed, clinging to the man who had raised her.
"Father." How strange that she still called him that.
"Mira! Behave yourself!" the man snapped, yanking his arm free from her desperate grip. "This is the only way you can repay me for all the years I wasted raising you after your whore of a mother abandoned you!"
His words struck like daggers, but her father felt no remorse. He simply turned his back, walking away as if she were nothing more than a debt finally settled.
Her legs trembled.
Her breath hitched.
Every fiber of her being screamed at her to run, but she was frozen, paralyzed by the betrayal.
Across the room, in the dim glow of the club's golden chandeliers, a group of men watched her with predatory gazes, their satisfaction evident. She had been bought. Her fate had been sealed.
But fate, it seemed, had other plans.
That same night, Wade Sinclair had been at the nightclub with his friends, reluctantly celebrating a bachelor party. He despised places like this, places where men gorged themselves on vices, drowning in liquor and lust. But he had come for his friend's sake, and he was just about to leave when she crashed into him.
Mira.
She was trembling, her breath erratic, her wide eyes filled with unfiltered terror.
Wade barely had a moment to react before he saw them, several men shoving through the crowd, searching for the purchase.
He understood instantly.
Without hesitation, Wade shrugged off his coat and wrapped it around her fragile form. Then, with a swift movement, he spun her against the wall and leaned down, capturing her lips in a deep, unexpected kiss.
Mira stiffened; her panic momentarily overshadowed by sheer shock.
The men chasing her barely spared them a glance, assuming they were just another couple lost in the club's sinful haze.
The moment they passed, Wade pulled away, his blue eyes locking onto hers.
"Come with me."
Still dazed, Mira could do nothing as he took her hand and pulled her into one of the private rooms.
Her nightmare was not over.
But perhaps, just perhaps, it had taken a new turn.