The Epic of the Discarded Son-Chapter 38: Terror

’Is this what it feels like to die?’

Not the kind he knew. Not the sudden kind where the world goes black and you wake up somewhere else.

’Rei.’

Hoping—that this time too, he’d open his eyes at the bottom of that same well. Rei’s voice in his head. Annoyed. Alive. Telling him to get up.

But nothing.

’Rei, please.’

Nothing again.

’I’m scared.’

He cried out. But nothing came back. Not even an echo. The sound was ripped from existence the moment it left him—swallowed by a void that didn’t just silence things but erased them.

But this was different.

He couldn’t feel his body. Couldn’t feel anything. No pain. No warmth. No weight. Just his thoughts—loose, untethered, drifting through a place where nothing existed.

He was everywhere.

Yet nowhere.

He was nothing.

’Someone please help me.’

He was scared. No—terrified.

He’d never thought dying would feel like this.

He knew death. They’d met plenty of times. Each time played out the same way—eyes close, world ends, and then he’d wake up somewhere terrible. The bottom of a well. A pile of garbage.

But at least there was something. Pain. Cold. A heartbeat reminding him he was still here.

That was death as he knew it. Ugly. Brutal. But survivable. Because there was always a way back. A crack in the dark. A voice in the distance. Something to grab onto and drag himself toward.

This time there was nowhere to crawl to. No light. No voice. No crack.

Only the terrifying possibility that he probably doesn’t exist.

If this was what death actually felt like, he never wanted to experience it again.

For the first time in his life, he understood what true terror was.

And it wasn’t the kind that made you fight harder. It was the kind that made you wonder why you ever fought at all. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

Every other time, he’d fought. Clawed. Kicked. Screamed his way back to life because some stubborn, stupid part of him refused to stay down.

But here—in this nothing—that piece was fading. Going quiet. Like a fire that had finally run out of things to burn.

Nora’s face flashed through him. Not her smile. It was the look she gave him before she walked out.

Because of what he said. Because of what he was.

’She’s never going to look at me the same.’

He was tired. Bone tired. Soul tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of healing just to be broken again. Tired of dragging himself back to a world that had never wanted him in the first place.

’Maybe this is for the best.’

The thought settled over him like a blanket. Soft. Final.

But unlike every other time, this time he wasn’t dying with nothing.

He was dying with reasons. A good reason.

Reasons to stop hurting the people he loved by existing near them.

’I’m sorry, Ari.’

Silence where a breath should have been.

’I’m sorry, my nameless knight.’

He stopped fighting.

For the first time in his life, he let go completely.

He stopped fighting.

And it was quiet. Peaceful, almost. Like falling asleep after being awake for years.

His thoughts thinned. Stretched. Grew transparent. One by one they floated away from him—memories, feelings, names—dissolving into the nothing like they’d never belonged to anyone.

He was disappearing.

And he was okay with it.

Then something warm touched his lips.

A single drop. Small. Almost nothing itself.

It was faint at first. A trickle. It slid down his throat like liquid sunlight. It moved through him—slow, deliberate—finding his veins, filling them, tracing paths through a body that shouldn’t exist anymore.

In the world of nothing, something was building him back.

Piece by piece. Thread by thread. Bone, muscle, skin—stitched together from the inside out by a warmth that refused to let him disappear.

Little by little, he came back.

His eyes opened.

And immediately regretted it.

The ceiling light hit him like a fist made of pure brightness. His hand shot up, blocking the blinding assault.

’Still alive. Apparently.’

He blinked. Waited for his vision to settle. And the first thing that came into focus wasn’t the room. Wasn’t the bed. Wasn’t the fact that his body was somehow in one piece again.

It was the ring. Sitting on his finger. Like it had been waiting for him to notice.

His eyes drifted to side.

Nora. On the floor. Beside his bed. Her head resting against the edge of the mattress. Asleep. Hair covering half her face. And beneath it, traces of something she’d never admit to.

Her cheeks were still damp. The blanket under her—wet.

’How long has she been here?’

He watched her for a moment. Just a moment. Then quietly, carefully—moving like one wrong sound would shatter something fragile, he slipped his arms beneath her. Lifted her. Laid her on the bed.

She didn’t stir.

He pulled the blanket over her shoulders and stood there. Just for a second longer than he needed to.

Then he stepped outside.

The courtyard was spotless. Every body. Every weapon. Every trace of what happened—erased. Scrubbed clean like someone had taken a rag to reality itself and wiped it down.

Only one thing remained. A dark stain soaked into the stone. Stubborn. Permanent.

He stood at the edge of the courtyard. Waiting for the sun to come up like it owed him something.

His eyes fell to his hands. They were trembling. Not a lot. Just enough to remind him that whatever happened in that void had followed him back.

That place where he wasn’t even a person anymore. Where the concept of him just quietly stopped.

He stared at the horizon, hoping to change his thoughts. But it was just dark. Empty. As if the damn sun was sitting somewhere below the edge of the world, taking its sweet time.

’Get up already.’

It didn’t.

’Fine.’

He turned back. Started walking. And somewhere between one step and the next, a thought crept in. The kind that doesn’t knock.

’Is it possible to live forever?’

He stopped. And chuckled. Broken. Empty. Forced.

’Talk about déjà vu.’

It was almost like he’d chased that same question before. Reached for the same answer with desperate hands.

And came back empty.

Not once.

Twice.

’Third time’s the charm, right?’

Even his own thoughts couldn’t cheer him up. And they were usually his best audience.

The thought stayed with him. Followed him back inside like a shadow he couldn’t shake.

Nora. Still asleep. Peaceful. The kind of stillness that made the chaos outside feel like it belonged to a different world.

He didn’t get back in the bed. Instead, he slid down the wall. Back pressed against the cold surface. Knees drawn up. Eyes fixed on her.

And his mind, because it never knew when to stop—started building something. A vision. A future that didn’t exist yet and probably never would.

He saw Nora. Older. Laugh lines around her eyes. Gray streaking through that golden hair. Still stubborn. Still terrifying. Still her.

And beside her—him. Unchanged. Same face. Same hands. Same eyes that hadn’t aged a single day.

They had kids. He watched them grow. Watched them get taller, louder, braver. Watched them become people with lives and stories of their own.

And then he watched them get old.

And then he buried them.

One by one.

Until there was no one left.

Just him. Standing in a world full of strangers. Untouched by the time that had taken everything he loved.

Alone again.

But worse. So much worse. Because this time he’d know exactly what he lost.

He smiled softly. The kind of smile that hurts more than crying.

’A life without death has no urgency. No tenderness. No reason to cherish anything.’

’Is that what I want? To outlive everyone I’ll ever love?’​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

’Do I truly want that? A life of eternal aloneness?’