The ash and dust swirled around Rey, darkening his blue eyes and collecting in his hair. It created spirals, spinning around the ruined city as if it were teasing the crumbling buildings.

  He sank to his knees, his blood staining the dusty marble a deep red. He held out his hands, blood seeping between his fingers, coating his calluses and scars in a sticky, life-ending, goop.

  He could no longer feel the pain in his chest. It didn’t matter that he was torn open, blood spilling from what could be the end of his life. It didn’t hurt. It didn’t matter. He just felt hollow. Hollow as if every emotion, every feeling, physical or mental, had left him. He was nothing but bones and skin and blood. So much blood, making his head fuzzy and his body unsteady.

  There was nothing left to feel. He’d gone through every emotion he’d thought was possible, and now here he was, sitting in a pool of his own blood, his thoughts swirling around in the sky with the ashes and dust.

  He could hear someone shouting his name, their voice rimmed with worry, but his eyelids were too heavy and his head was falling. He could feel himself slipping away.

  * * *

  “Rey!” Fria yelled, her gray eyes filled with tears. Her dark skin was covered in dust and grime, a look Rey had never imagined he’d see on her. She was cradling him in her arms, shouting his name over and over until he managed a response.

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  “Rey,” Fria cried. “W-Where’s Keyne.”

  Rey closed his eyes.

  Keyne. Keyne.

  He furrowed his brows and gritted his teeth. “What do you want with him?”

  Fria frowned. “Rey, I must know if he’s alive. W-We can’t find him.”

  Rey sat up, wincing when his chest curled over his wound across his chest. He was wrapped up in blood soaked bandages, which he hadn’t remembered putting on.

  “Why does everyone care so much about him?” He yelled, ignoring the pain in his chest. “He’s not as special as mom makes him seem.”

  Fria placed her hands on his cheeks. “Rey, he’s your best friend.”

  Rey pushed her away. “He’s gone!”

  Fria’s eyes widened. “What?”

  Rey squinted his eyes shut and choked back a cough. “H-He’s dead. He’s dead to-” He folded over and lost himself in a fit of coughing.

  Fria helped him up, patted his back.

  “He’s dead?” She asked, her voice wavering.

  “He’s dead.” Rey confirmed, feeling the anger boiling beneath his skin.

  He’s dead to me.