Story: 'The Void': Part 4

by Nicholas Lemieux



It was inevitable that they would finally get to us somehow. After a few months of futile resistance, we found ourselves holed up within the decrepit remains of the Queen’s palace, the bulk of the Great Redeemer’s army surrounding us on all sides.

It was a hopeless standoff. We had exhausted all of our resources and there were barely a dozen of us left. As we readied our defence, most of us knew we were heading to our graves and were ready to go out fighting in a fiery blaze of glory. But not me. I would not leave this earth until my dream had been realised. We had come so close and I refused to become just another name in the history books. The inevitability of defeat started to sink in but in the midst of our final battle, a toxic idea that had been burning at the back of mind for years finally started to force itself onto me.  Pointless as it could possibly be, it was clear that the only possible option the Light had left if we were going to survive the Redeemer’s onslaught was if I were to finally unlock the Void. It would be at a grave cost and I would never probably be able to forgive myself for it but what choice did I have left? 

I turned to look at Kiara, her third eye lighting up to launch another blast. Over the course of our time together, she had not once lost hope in me. I was so grateful for everything she had done for our cause. Now however I simply could not ignore my destiny. I realised that to reach the Void would require severing me from everything I held dearest to me. Kiara was my earthly tether, the one thing that brought me down to the earth, and as much as it ate away at me, deep down I knew that I would have to let it go. My life’s work would not be in vain, and neither would her sacrifice.

Looking back now, I was a coward not to face her as I committed the act, plunging that ragged dagger deep into her back. It felt like an eternity the time it took for her to collapse to the ground. As her body stopped twitching, it was at that moment it all came surging to me at once. When the gate finally gave way and the legions charged, they were not prepared for the sheer spectacle they would witness and were quickly driven mad by what happened next. I was lifted off the ground completely weightless.  I had severed my connection with reality.

I had entered the Void.

There are no words or indeed languages sufficient enough to describe the immensity of the sensation that overwhelmed me. I could see it all, past, present and future all moulding into one. My powers were limitless. I could rearrange the entire cosmos. I could create atoms. I could remember what my parents looked like. The building blocks of reality were mine. Time lost its effect over me. Infinity was my equal. I was Ozymandias, the King of Kings, the almighty, the holy, the revered, the feared.
I was God.                      

But as I opened my eyes for what felt the first time ever in my life and bore witness to the phenomenon that was the Void, I was seized by this new, piercing understanding. I was now the most powerful being in existence. With but a wave of my hand, I could single-handedly wipe out the Redeemer’s entire army. Hell, I could even erase the entire universe with a single blink and star anew on something so much more beautiful. Yet this glorious feeling of invincibility everything came crashing down to an abrupt stop. Now that I could see everything, I started to notice humanity’s annoying little pattern of conflict. No matter the countless lives lost in their selfish pursuits, the world would never be at balance. Even with my omnipotence and the power to solve every problem they would ever encounter, their self-destructive cycle would only get worse. No one man, nay not even God himself could bring about a paradise here on earth. So what, then, had been the point of this entire bloody quest I had sacrificed so much of my life for?   I had entered the Void to experience true freedom and yet I was still a prisoner, cursed with this contemptuous knowledge. I felt lonely.

Aside from those few soldiers who were struck with insanity after witnessing all this, I gave no resistance as I was taken into custody by the Redeemer’s army. A grand celebration  was promptly held as she was lauded for finally bringing the world to balance again. Would this loop ever end?
Countless millennia have passed since then and now I am nothing but a myth. I still rot away in this long-forgotten prison, my only company being these rusted shackles that bind me, the echoing jingles of which taunt me for my stupidity. Of course, I could reduce these chains to atoms and abolish these walls with a mere thought, but then what? What would I have accomplished? Nothing would change. I even hear the Great Redeemer became another dictator in the end just like the rest of them. And so humanity’s never-ending cycle of oppression continued.

My godlike powers are a curse. They mock me with the knowledge that, with the universe at my very fingertips, I could easily solve all the world’s problems without batting an eyelid. And yet I’d know that it would all be for naught at the end, that humanity would stumble into yet another crisis and turn on each other at the first sign of conflict. Like the selfish creatures they were, the gunshots would be fired and the taste of eternal freedom and peace would forevermore be beyond their reach.

In my dreams, my memory of Kiara refuses to stop tormenting. I know I could easily bring her back from the dead and make everything right again. But she’d just be a husk, a shell of her former self. It wouldn’t be the same Kiara I knew, just a ghost of her memory. Even now, her haunts me. I failed her so much...

Now in my desolation only eternity awaits me. When humanity wipes itself out, I’ll probably be the only left in the ashes. Who knows? Maybe at the end of the universe I’ll get to meet Prince Yashin himself. At least then I’ll have someone who shares in my misery.

Time’s arrow marches on, poised to hit its pointless target. Because that’s what the Void taught me in the end. When all’s said and done, there’s no obnoxious fanfare, no feeling of closure or accomplishment. Just a simple fade to black and then...

Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing.
-                                          William Shakespeare, Macbeth Act 5 Scene 5

The End


Comments