Darkness.
Not the kind that scared him as a kid. Not the kind that hid monsters under the bed.
This darkness… was everywhere.
Evan ran.
At least, he thought he was running.
There was no ground beneath his feet. No sound of breath, no echo of footsteps. Just the sensation of moving forward while nothing changed.
"Okay," he said, voice oddly clear in the void. "Either I'm dead, or this is the worst treadmill ever invented."
No answer.
Figures.
He stopped.
The darkness didn't react.
He waved a hand in front of his face.
There was no hand.
"…Right," Evan muttered. "That's concerning."
Panic tried to bloom, sharp and familiar, but something pushed back against it. Not calm—never calm—but awareness. Like the void itself was waiting.
For what, he didn't know.
Then he saw it.
A light.
Tiny. Fragile. No bigger than the head of a pin.
"That's it?" Evan squinted. "That's what I'm supposed to work with?"
The light flickered, almost offended.
He hesitated.
The moment doubt crept in, the light shrank.
"Oh," he whispered. "You're like that."
He took a step—more intention than movement—toward it.
The light grew.
Not brighter. Closer.
"Okay," Evan said, heart thudding despite not having one. "Okay. I get it. You're motivational."
He focused. Pushed forward. Not running—choosing.
The light expanded.
Cracks spread through the darkness.
Not fading.
Breaking.
Like glass.
Through the fractures, he saw flashes—
A sky bleeding crimson, burning as though the sun itself had erupted. Ash falling like frozen rain . Mountains crumbling, rivers boiling with fire. Buildings twisted, streets melted, chaos everywhere. And a boy—thin, fragile—collapsed on cold stone, eyes staring wide and empty at a sky he could not reach.
Then—
Impact.
Evan slammed into a body.
Air tore into his lungs. Limbs trembled. His head felt too heavy for his neck. Stone kissed his cheek cold and unforgiving.
"No—get up," Evan thought desperately. "Get up, get up—"
The body didn't respond.
It wasn't weak. It was dying.
Footsteps—rushed, panicked—echoed faintly.
"Kael!"
A young voice, desperate and terrified.
Hands grabbed him—no, grabbed Kael. Shaking. Frantic.
"Stay awake!" the boy pleaded. "Please, Kael… don't you close your eyes!"
Evan tried to respond. Tried to speak. Tried to breathe normally.
"I—"
Rasp. Broken. Inadequate.
And then it hit—the weight of the life he'd borrowed. Hunger. Shame. Fear. Endless nights spent apologizing for existing.
Memories—or maybe echoes of memories—flooded in: faces of those Kael had loved and lost. Every single one vanished. The ache of absence, sharp as knives.
Tears came unbidden. Hot. Unstoppable.
"I… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry," Evan whispered, voice cracking. Each repetition was a hammer on his chest, each apology a thread tied to the invisible shadow haunting Kael's life.
The boy beside him—dusty, hands scraped, face pale with worry—clutched Kael's shoulder. "Kael… stay… please…"
Evan swallowed. Every word hurt. Every breath a reminder: Kael's life had been a series of endings. Every person he loved disappeared, every bond shattered. And now… it was in Evan's hands.
Images flooded in: laughter of friends he could never reach, warmth of family he could never hold, the pain of love ripped away again and again.
For the first time, Evan understood: this wasn't just misfortune. There was a pattern. A cruel weight lingering over Kael, unseen, relentless.
He knelt, collapsing further, face pressed into the cold stone.
"I… I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I couldn't save anyone. I… I failed… I…"
The boy's voice trembled. "Kael…"
Evan gritted his teeth. Through the borrowed body, through Kael's frailty, through the raw, unbearable grief, he whispered:
"No. Not today. Not while I'm here."
Tears streamed. Hands shook. Blood, sweat, and dirt traced over the stone.
"I… I will carry it," he said. "Every bit of pain, every lost person… I'll carry it. I won't let it break him. I swear."
The darkness quivered. Tentative. Uncertain. It had never met someone who refused to break, someone carrying another life's grief and still clinging to hope.
Evan lifted his head. Kael's eyes—Evan's mind behind them—focused.
"I'm here," he whispered, voice raw and human. "I've got you. Every step, every heartbreak… I'll carry it."
A faint light shimmered through the oppressive black. A heartbeat of hope, fragile but real.
Evan forced a shaky, humor-tinged breath. "Well… if I'm stuck in this deathtrap, might as well update my diary. Third person, first person… whatever. Someone's gotta write down the epic fails."
But even as he smiled through tears, the weight of Kael's curse pressed down. His knees buckled. His chest heaved. Every step, every heartbeat, every sob had drained him completely.
And then—the world faded beneath him.
Stone kissed his cheek again, colder this time. Darkness pressed closer, but patient, waiting.
Evan—inside Kael—collapsed.
Eyes closing, breath shallow, he whispered, barely audible:
"Tomorrow… I'll do better… I promise."
A faint heartbeat echoed somewhere beyond the black. Or was it his own?
And then… nothing.