Chapter 12 Seth
Seth
The Void doesn’t change.
I learned that the hard way about a thousand years ago. Or maybe it’s been three weeks. Time’s kind of a joke here.
Point is: the black stays black, the empty stays empty, and you either get used to it or you go insane.
I got used to it.
Mostly.
I used to mark time by how often I thought about food. Stopped doing that after the cravings made me try chewing on shadows. Turns out, darkness tastes like regret and nothing else.
Now I just walk. Talk to myself. Out loud, because if I don’t, my voice might forget how to work.
“Left foot. Right foot. Thrilling stuff, Seth.”
Sometimes you see flashes—people crossing through. They don’t last. Most of them burn out before they even realize where they are, and I don’t stick around to watch. What’s the point? Can’t help them. Can’t save them.
Fuck, I can’t even save myself.
Last time I followed a glow, it screamed until it turned to ash. Took me a week to stop hearing it.
Best I can do is not become another pile of ash myself.
My breath catches, something just shifted.
I stop mid-step, which is stupid because I wasn’t going anywhere anyway. There’s nowhere to go. Just endless nothing in every direction.
But I feel it—this ripple, like someone dropped a rock in water and the wave just reached me.
“Huh.”
I scan the dark out of habit. Not that there’s ever anything to see.
Except—
There.
A flicker. Silver. Gone before I can blink.
My chest does something weird. Tight. Unfamiliar.
Oh.
That’s what hope feels like.
I’d almost forgotten.
“Great,” I mutter. “Now I’m hallucinating.”
But the feeling doesn’t fade. It digs in, hooking under my ribs and pulling. Not metaphorically—my skin prickles like I brushed up against static. Like something out there already has a hand wrapped around my ribs and is tugging.
The air shifts. Just slightly. Carries something it shouldn’t—a scent. Clean. Sharp. Like ozone after lightning.
I freeze.
That’s new.
Not Ethos. I’d know that bastard’s presence anywhere—feels like drowning in oil. This is different. Cleaner. Almost… warm.
Someone’s here.
Someone new.
I laugh. It comes out bitter and sharp. “Oh, you poor idiot.”
Whoever just crossed into the Void has no idea what they walked into. Ethos is probably already circling, deciding whether to play nice or go straight for the throat.
Smart move would be to keep walking the other way. Let whoever it is deal with Ethos on their own. Maybe he’ll be busy enough that he forgets about me for a while. Let someone else bleed first.
If Ethos is already on them, maybe I can use the distraction. Get closer without him noticing me for once.
That’s how I’ve survived this long—by being invisible, insignificant, not worth his attention.
But that pull in my chest won’t quit.
And the thing is—I’ve seen a lot of people cross through. Watched them flicker and fade like dying stars. None of them ever felt like this. None of them made the Void itself react.
None of them smelled like lightning.
This is different.
This is power.
I run a hand through my hair, which probably looks like hell by now. Not that there’s anyone around to care.
“Alright, mystery person,” I say to the dark. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
I start walking toward where the light was.
Probably a terrible idea.
Definitely a terrible idea.
But at least it’s something. Best case, I get answers. Worst case, I finally stop walking in circles.
Either way, at least I won’t die bored.
The pull gets stronger with every step, dragging me forward like a current I can’t fight. My pulse kicks up—another thing I’d almost forgotten I could feel.
Then it jerks hard enough to make me stumble.
I catch myself, breathing harder than I should.
Whatever’s out there isn’t just calling me.
It’s dragging me.
I keep walking. Because what else am I going to do—stay safe?