Cain stared at the cracked mirror in his hands, his heart sinking as the final, undeniable proof of his fate vanished before his eyes.
His reflection was gone.
A telltale sign. A warning.
'The curse of hollowing' was finally taking hold.
His hands trembled as he traced the jagged edge of the mirror, an old relic he'd scavenged from the ruins outside the fortress. Cain still wasn't used to this. To the feeling of knowing he would soon be somewhere else, somewhere much worse than the dystopian desert he was in. A place where even oxygen had a price tag. Where water was more scarce than blood. Where not a single soul cared about another.
Not even ones own parents…
'Why am I even trying? Is there really a point to this… useless struggle?' The thought imploded in his chest, dragging him into a desolate storm of despair.
Try. Die. Revive. This cycle had ruled Cain's life for as long as he could remember.
'Can I just end it?' Cain thought, his hand instinctively grabbing onto the hilt of his make shift knife. Curling around its rugged wooden surface, his grip tightening like a snake around its prey, splinters digging deep into his skin.
In the midst of his turmoil, her voice slipped into his mind like silk wrapped in barbed wire. It was sharp yet soft, a perfect blend of sadism and concern.
"Dear, you tremble so much. It's almost cute."
He flinched at the sudden echoing whisper, rubbing his temples in frustration. She was here again. 'The Witch' as he had named her. Cain didn't know who she was, or why she would talk to him.
Why him?
Yet he couldn't refuse. Outside the fortress, even rats had their uses. And this voice? It simply seemed to love him. Or perhaps Cain himself had a soft spot for her? After years of being together, his feelings had blurred. He couldn't even confidently say if he hated the witch's presence anymore.
After all she was the one soul he could talk to without fearing a knife in his back by dawn.
"Not now." He muttered under his breath.
"Oh, but when else can I dote on you? It's almost time for your nightmare, and I have such high hopes for you this time. We can finally be together."
There was a purr in her voice, a kind of sickening fondness that unsettled him more than the nightmare itself.
"That is only if I don't die. Again" Cain said, his dry, cracked lips trembling. A sparkle of defiance or fear in his eyes.
"You won't die, I promise." She returned in a hasty manner.
"You've promised before."
"And I meant it every single time," she giggled, as if his life were a game. "I mean look at you. Even through the countless deaths, here we are… Come on, I'll even treat you to one of those cakes I always tell you about."
There was an awkward silence between them for a second before she blurted out, "Don't you trust me?"
Cain sighed, rolling his stiff shoulders. The sunlight seeped through the torn fabric of his tent, dust motes drifting lazily in the stagnant air. It was too bright for this time of day, yet the shadows beneath his eyes grew heavier, his limbs already succumbing to the curse's pull; his eyelids begging to shut.
The drowsiness was setting in.
"Always—"
He barely managed to form the words before falling onto the coarse fabric of his sleeping bag. His mind started to unravel as he slipped into what might be his final slumber.
"Sweet dreams, dear."
**
The sound of cranking gears filled the atmosphere, metal groaned as water churned from somewhere in the distance. Opening his eyes, Cain found himself in a small, yet luxurious room. It had a single bed, the sheets ruffled up as if they had just been used. A dressing table made of fine wood with a coating of gloss on top lining the left wall.
Gold wallpaper marked the walls, and a small oval shaped window, through which one could see nothing but endless, murky water stretching into eternity, save for the occasional ruined skyscraper breaking the surface like the gravestones of a distraught flooded world.
With a short sigh Cain moved forward rattling the bronze door knob to the extravagant prison. There were a bunch of clanking sounds yet none matched the satisfying click of the door lock opening.
"What was I even expecting?" Cain muttered under his breath letting out a sharp exhale before turning around.
'Ok—ok… just, calm down. You know this room. You know the way to escape.' Cain thought, his hands trembling at his sides.
[ Welcome to the nightmare, challenger.
Computing difficulty level… Difficulty assessed.
Rank: Dystopia
Story: The Sunken World.
Objective: Survive for three days, or free the world off its warden.
Rewards will be calculated based on results and achievements.]
A screen suddenly appeared from thin air, right in front of him. It startled him for a mere second before Cain went back to his usual exhausted demeanour.
"Still dystopian?" He said in a tired voice, before moving his hands in front of the text, causing it to disappear. "I still don't get what it means by 'The Warden' either."
Without wasting another breath, he quickly dropped to the ground, his head resting on the silk smooth carpet as he looked.
There, his eyes widened with a sense of hope as he saw a small, whitle metal grille next to the dressing table. It was probably used for ventilation, and this grille would now be the sole reason he survived.
Crawling towards it, Cain quickly got to work, unscrewing every single one of the four bolts, using the weird shaped back of a small golden pen he had found in his patch pocket.
Within a few seconds the grille was open, the hole barely wide enough to fit his small, undergrown, seventeen year old body in.
Just as he was about to enter, the sound of something crashing down echoed from a distance. It was followed by the sound of waves as if it were a beach. Soon the carpet started to get wet, as a layer of water covered the shiny wooden floor boards.
'Shit!' Cain thought. Pushing himself to move even quicker, he snuggled his way in, crawling through the vent as if trained by a professional baby.
The vent twisted and turned, leading from one corner to the other - sometimes even higher up. The water was relentless, pursuing him through the depths of hell.
However, Cain didn't stop. He moved on and on till the point his knees were red. This was a nightmare. It wasn't going to be kind, especially not on the weak.
Through sheer effort, Finally managing to escape from the water's grasp, he found himself next to a large open floor, separated only by the grille. Light shined from outside, peering into his dark snuggly corner.
Cain pushed on the grille with all his might, the hinges rattling yet refusing to budge.
"Come on, come on— please. Just open up, for god's sake." Cain exclaimed, banging the grille multiple times with his shoulder. When that didn't work, he switched to his feet, barely managing to turn around in the cramped up space.
"Ahh, to hell with it."
Clank
The grille was sent flying with a thunderous bang. Crawling out from the hole, Cain heaved. His white luxurious garments—probably the finest piece of clothing he had ever worn in his life—had turned black from all the dust and soot within the vent.
Finally looking around, Cain found himself on the deck of a ship. A really large one at that. To the scale where it made 'The Titano' look like a baby. The sound of metal cracking and muffled screams of strangers were prevalent in his ears. A cool breeze blew, brushing past his skin.
He took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill his lungs. "Be it a nightmare, at least I don't have to worry about running out of breathable air or getting a heatstroke the moment I step outside. Perhaps this place really is better than the real world."
That's when a large explosion shook the ship to its core. Within the next second, the entire structure was turning and twisting. The flat floor seemed to turn into a slope, getting steeper and steeper with each passing second till the point his matte black shoes started slipping on the ground.
"Ugh… won't even lend me a moment's peace, will ya? In fact, isn't the sinking part earlier than before? Ah hell. Whatever…"
Cain should have been scared, his heart should have been thumping out of his chest. He was on a broken ship that was steadily sinking into the depths of the ocean, yet he remained tranquil. Perhaps he had made peace with death? Or was it because he had a plan?