A year after the Whispers, Vernis still hadn't learned how to stand.
Fog hung in the air, lurking at every corner like a starving beast on the prowl, enveloping the entire region in its expansive mass. Overhead, the ring of seven moons shone through the murk, feeding the mist that now defined Vernis's streets; its omnivore veil sapping the light out of the rubble-choked avenues.
Covered in the pale, colorful moonlight seeping through, Elyas, wearing his best clothes, stood beside a mound of rubble once belonging to his home.
"I wish to be nowhere and make it mine. My domain." He muttered in a low voice. Then he stopped, waiting in anticipation of hearing the being at any moment. Any second now, he could feel the sting of the trial commencing.
But just now, only when he had already signed away his fate by uttering that wish for the slightest chance to improve his life, to provide for his family, did he start to reconsider.
It was too late to go back. It's not like there were other options left for him either, It was this…or death. One way or the other.
For the past month Elyas and his family had been surviving off rations, each meal eaten not to satiate hunger, but to live. He was trying to find a job—any job, but no one wanted a regular human when Dreamers were an option. Why pay several people food to take care of a matter when a Dreamer could do the same, with the proficiency of a dozen men?
So, defeated, he decided on something he had promised himself not to do. Make a wish, take on the chance of dying through the trial, potentially leaving his family, all in hopes of becoming a Dreamer…
As Elyas's spiraling anxiety and guilt surged, he waited and yet, nothing occurred. He just stood there beside the heap of broken building materials, no voice coming to whisper in his ear, no test taking place.
He tapped his foot in frustration. "Come on…"
"Dad?"
A voice cut through the silence of the night, and the man spun toward its source. Above the pile of cement, concrete, and rebar, was a small boy with big blue eyes and messy dark hair. "It's cold out. What are you doing outside?" Asked Michael.
Elyas's head suddenly throbbed with a horrible headache. His heart began a new, unfamiliar rhythm, thrashing in his ribcage, the sheer power of each heartbeat rattling his insides.
The reason for the sudden retaliation of his body was apparent to him.
The Whisperer had answered his call.
What great timing…
He had to endure it if he were to live. He had to, even if he wanted to die. Even if he wanted to just give up because the pain was becoming too much to bear, he had to endure. Michael was watching after all.
"Get off before you hurt yourself." Elyas rushed to the child's side, a forced smile keeping his expression barely together. Grabbing Michael gently, he placed him on solid ground.
The boy's questioning eyes examined the brown suit. "Are you going somewhere?"
Elyas froze, not having the heart to tell the truth.
The boy asked another question, "Are you going to leave like Granny?"
Immediately, Elyas knelt, cupped the boy's cold cheeks and said as he caressed them, "Never. I love you more than anything, little guy. I'm not leaving you, or Grandpa. I promise."
The boy stared into his eyes in an attempt to glean the truth, trying to imitate his father. He examined Elyas's quivering lips for any indication of a ruse or a lie, every movement and the positioning of his feet…It didn't take long for the boy to give up his search.
Michael nodded without saying anything, believing his father's words.
Elyas let go, but his eyes refused to do the same. He watched Michael who turned and picked his way back through the mound of rubble, towards the half-collapsed shelter they once called home. Michael was halfway inside the open wall when he stopped, and abruptly turned, "Dad I forgot, Grandpa wanted to know if he could borrow your—"
"Dad?"
Below the mound, where his father had stood mere moments ago, only dust and dirt swayed.
No one was there.
…
Elyas opened his eyes, heart racing. The half-finished question still echoing in his mind.
Was it a dream?
No it wasn't….but he wanted it to be. He wanted it to be just a bad dream, a horrible, persistent nightmare. But he still remembered that night clearly. He could still feel the cold wind on his skin as if he were there, remember every crack on his home's wall, remember the wish he made.
Remember his own lie.
Why did I even wish to be in nowhere? What was I thinking?! He wanted to beat something to let out his anger…but all he had was himself. There was nothing in the void. Nothing but himself.
Surrounding him was an infinite space devoid of even the most basic elements of existence. There was no air, no land, not even light. But strangely enough, despite the lack of illumination, it was pure white.
"Couldn't I have been more descriptive at least?"
That would have helped, but it was all past him now. Elyas had heard that shorter wishes were more powerful and risk free, so he made his short… he didn't consider the rumors to be wrong.
If he just had more things to trade for food…
If only he could find a job, any job…
It didn't matter. None of it mattered now anyway.
To think this is how I go out...
He let out a chuckle as he tugged at his now wrinkled brown suit. "At least I'm dying with style."
His chuckle turned into bitter laughter as it filled the void, straining his dry throat and causing him to cough violently. After swallowing some saliva to deal with that, he cleared his throat and spoke.
"I wish to have absolute control over every part of my domain." Then he waited, begging whatever gods were alive that the Whisperer answered. But he got the usual.
Silence. Nothing but the void's static, ever present hum.
"Nothing..."
He wanted to let out the bubbled up frustration with a scream, but Instead, he just sighed, "Well, I'll try tomorrow."
Elyas knew it was useless. He had already used his wish. No wish could be undone, and no one got a second. He was aware of that fact all too well recently.
But he had to ignore that fact. He had to ignore reason to create one to live for.
Elyas didn't want to stay awake either, there was nothing to do other than floating about or sleeping. So, he raised his hands, gripped his throat, and squeezed until he passed out.
…
He opened his eyes again, body covered in cold sweat. After a great deal of cursing himself for not being specific enough, he readied himself for yet another try.
Why am I even doing this? How long can I keep this up? Will I… see them again? When he first came here, every waking moment was spent worrying about them, his family and his little boy. But he soon came to realize that his concerns amounted to little, his screaming and trashing in this empty space only echoing back to huant the small morsel of peace he had left.
So, he tried his best to ignore the subject entirely.
"I wish to have absolute control over every part of my domain." He repeated the same line. Every. Single. Day.
He wasn't sure for how long though, it could have been months or years at this point. Time didn't pass here, it pooled, which only made his wait for a response seem all the more endless.
And in response to that endless patience, only one thing answered his call. An alien, distant buzzing in absolute silence, the one constant in every second of his new life.
Elyas sighed, "Nothing again—"
[Granted.]
The word arrived like a bell, ringing inside his skull.
A Whisper.
Elyas jolted, spinning in place frantically and in search of the voice. His senses became keener as a strange pressure built up in his head and chest, warming up both to the tune of his heart's sudden, rapid thumping.
"You bastard! Show yourself!" He shouted.
It was quiet for a while, then the voice returned, seemingly amused by his reaction.
[When the time comes, be thankful to your fathers and kin.]
Ice slid down Elyas's back. He had assumed the void was private at this point. But why would it be?
If the Whisperer could put him here in the first place, then he could hear him too.
The bastard had been ignoring me then?
[A world, a throne made for the likes of you. There is no escaping its grasp as you are bound to its eternal wait, that which turns you invincible.]
Then, as abruptly as it came, the voice stopped and the void returned to its usual quiet.
"…What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Elyas stopped to review his actions. Maybe bad-mouthing an omnipresent being isn't that great of an idea…
He fell silent after that, both in fear of being smitten down and having already lost himself In thought. Elyas had given up on trying to leave because he had no way to escape the void. That was his Cost. He had dominion over nothing, he owned it and it belonged to him…but he had no control over it.
That is why he resigned himself to doing something as absurd as attempting a second wish, trying to correct his disastrous wish.
Although, that wasn't to say he played no part in getting himself into this situation. But yet still, who would have thought that wishing to be nowhere would make you unable to escape said nowhere?
They really do give you the worst Cost they can… speaking of, can I leave now?
As soon as Elyas thought of that, another question came forth. I got a second wish… did I? Or have I finally lost it?
That wasn't off the table. Being completely alone for what felt like a millennia had to have caused some mental damage at the very least. So, he pondered over the matter as he floated about, riding the weightless currents of the empty, vast landscape.
Having a second wish was something unheard of, but he didn't care about how exceptional something like that was. He wanted to make sure that he actually got it. Wanted to know that he was still sane.
Wanted to leave the void.
Well, there's one way to find out. If I really got a second wish, I should be able to change something about this place… but what?
Elyas glanced around as he thought. Surrounding him was all white. Pure, untouchable pristine white stretched to infinity in all directions.
Then something clicked, and an idea formed.
Color.
If his wish was truly granted and he wasn't merely hallucinating, based on the description he had given, absolute control, then he should be able to change the color.
So, over the next few minutes, he tried exactly that.
Elyas tested all kinds of things, from chanting nonsense, to weird hand gestures and even a rain dance he once saw on the internet. Nothing worked until he simply opened his mouth and said:
"Black."
As soon as the word escaped his lips, the world around him shifted. Like a rising tsunami from the horizon, a flood of darkness rose up into the sky and subsequently fell. It drowned out everything completely, drenching the whole void. Now, replacing the void's eternal white, was jet black.
It… somehow felt emptier than before. Darker. Even though nothing had changed, Elyas was sure of it.
It felt cramped.
He felt like a mouse standing in the cat's den.
It was as if behind the curtain of darkness, thousands of eyes were watching his every move, inspecting his very heartbeat, his every breath, his every thought.
And the fact that there was no surface to stand on, rapidly turned into the realization that there was no way to run.
Elyas slowly paled. Trying to erase the uneasy feeling, he muttered with a shaky voice: "White."
He watched the same flood take over the darkness with held breath until not a single bit of black was left. Only then did he let out a sigh of relief.
Then, as if coming to him along his next inhaled breath, questions he had ignored with the excuse of having lost his mind resurfaced.
Why did I get a second wish? What did the Whisperer mean? What is my new Cost? Can I leave now?
He tried answering these questions. Something he was usually good at, now appeared like an impossible task.
Like an impossibly tall mountain he was unable to climb, all he could do was circle around his destination at the top. But he could climb one of the mountain's hills.
He had the answer to one of the questions.
And that one was the only thing he cared for.
As he stared ahead at the void, Elyas said in a low voice, "Michael, dad's coming home."