Verza was a young ordinary man; his life felt all meaningless under this shadowed sky. It all felt small, pathetic, like it would end in a blink without him even noticing, without even reaching 17. Verza lacked dreams, hopes, even the simple pleasures found in food or drinks. He had one idea in his mind; it constantly bugged him, wandered through his consciousness all day: death, death to him, to his peers in this forsaken land for being so weak, death for the sun for unleashing this divine punishment! It didn't matter to whom, all he wanted and ever dedicated himself to, was perishment.
Just as any ordinary day of his little life, he had to wear his baggy tattered clothes: a pair of loose pants that barely heated him or shielded him against the cold, a wide white shirt that had visible black grease and a few drops of blood on it, and a torn "scarf" that was originally a ragged cloth. It was pale black in colour and lacked every sign of it being useable; yet, he had to wear it, to cover his mouth and breath from whatever particles were in this poisonous, filthy air. What other choice did he have?
His grayish-blue irises held visible trauma and anger in them, but it was all drowned down by the cold hateful persona of his. He looked at himself in the reflection of a dirty metallic mirror before slowly walking to the door, brown and covered in mold, it was as dirty and disgusting as any other thing in this so called "Gloria".
"Gloria," how ironic! filth and shadows are called "Gloria!" How fucking ironic it is!
Verza thought to himself in despise as he opened the door and walked out, met by the sight of the shadows of his peers around the town, sulking, weeping, and working aimlessly. One was hammering on metal to sell it, others were cutting moldy wood; the mere sight was pathetic, truly pathetic. Verza wished he could just graft pure death and shatter this town into dust.
He ran a hand through his frost-coloured hair. His steps were slow as he headed towards downtown. He had to find something to eat or else he would perish before others did, which he of course, didn't wish for.
He walked on the stone road until he reached the open square of the downtown, where it was circled with so little shops of food and clothing, nothing fancy, just wood and glass. Even stone was not to be seen. Verza looked around, to see a commosion ..
That's new.
He thought to himself carelessly, but curiouity got him as he walked towards them, pushing around and passing through hardly until he reached the middle. His movement came to a halt, fear filled his eyes at the sight of a golden droplet that descended from the skies above,
What the fu...
He was surprised, utterly terrorised by the sight of it. He had never seen light before, let alone a thing this glorious! The rather pessimistic Verza had his eyes gleam and glitter with hope like a little child at the sight of candy.
Then came the attraction, a huge force from the drop grasped him; it felt as if he belonged to it. It felt like he was born for this moment, everything in his life had a meaning now, it felt... Real. It felt meaningful. Verza took a shaky step, his gaze never breaking from the droplet, the second step was firmer, more needy for this light, the third step was filled with fear and terror: fear of the unknown, fear of being burnt, and the fourth? It was filled with purpose; it was the urge to converge.
He stood right before it. As it descended down, eye-leveled, it faced him, and he faced it, Verza never felt such a feeling, never felt such a need, and before he could realize it, the droplet moved to him, and slowly sunk into his glabella. With an unbelievable burning feeling, it sank fully into his skull. As his eyes shone out, his skin shivered and shook, trembling as if it didn't belong to him. He felt his mind shatter and reconstruct, again and again and again, forming seperated personas that converged together, only to repeat the process.
This horrible feeling was continuous, unyeilding; it was terrifying. He felt like he would burn into crisps if he didn't get a hold of himself.
Then, he invisioned himself into a spacious black void -or something else put him there- with no light in it, not until a small dot of light appeared, shone in it, expanding with a warm pale golden light. It was unknown if this was his subconscious, his will to live, or even his true soul.
He floated to that dot, he heard its sound, it was low, repeated, and firm
"Come"
"Touch"
"Hold"
"Embrace"
"Become one"
"Converge"
Verza couldn't resist it; he increased the speed of his floating until he was hovering for it. His speed was shaky as his illusory frame expanded and shrunk. His eyes glazed yet focused, his face distorted yet filled with order, his body large yet small, until he was facing it.
His illusory body spread like a sheet, and it enveloped the core. His black frame was set alight immediately; the illusory figures fused into one and shone in unexplainable brilliance.
The shadowed one, was set alight, he became unshadowed, an unshadowed soul.