Ethan closed the book slowly, his fingers were hovering over the ripped edge of God's Final Requiem. His eyes held on to the last line on the page and kept re-reading it. And again, and again. Refusing to believe what he'd just witnessed.
"And thus, the hero died. His body was broken. His will was broken. The world soon followed behind, devoured by the insanity of the Outer Gods."
A piercing breath escaped him. His lips curled into a disbelieving sneer.
"That's it?" he said, voice cracked. "That's how it ends?"
He sat back, blinking as if he might awaken to a different line there, a line where hoped the ending would change.
It can't be right. Not after everything that happened till now.
This wasn't how a legend was supposed to end. Not in silence. Not in defeat. Not in despair
A hollow hurt flowered in his chest, the sort that left him with the sensation, like someone had reached in and taken out all of his feelings. For years, this tale had been his priority. Each page, each turn, each moment of fear and awe he had lived it truly. He had cheered on their triumphs as if they were his. He had cried for their passing as if they were alive and his people were.
It hadn't been merely a book. It had been a life for him.
And now it was finished. Now it was all finished and with the worst ending possible
He glared at the cover, his started heart pounding as if it couldn't bear the silence. God's Final Requiem wasn't a dime-store novel where the hero is dragged on through chance and various favorable outcomes. It had heft. It had anguish. It had honesty. Every move forward left wounds on them. Every battle counted. Nothing was ever easy. Nothing was ever pure.
And now?
Now it had all come to ash.
The hero was lost. The world was broken. The Outer Gods had triumphed and the world had been converted into ashes.
All the blood. All the sacrifice. All the hope, it was was for nothing.
His hand tightened on the book. White knuckles. Trembling fingers. His jaw set as he spat through clenched teeth.
"This is crap" he growled. "There had to be another way. There had to be"
He slumped into the chair, shoulders weighed down by all that he couldn't express. His eyes wandered to the ceiling as if it might provide answers. But it was only a ceiling. Blank. Stationary.
What was the point?
What was the point of resisting, of holding on, of perishing, if in the end, nothing was different? If the darkness still prevailed?
His voice was barely more than a whisper, a breath against the storm building inside him.
"If I were in that world… I wouldn't let it end like this. I'd make it better."
He didn't mean for the words to carry weight.
But they did.
And the world listened.
The air shifted. Thickened. Reality buckled like glass under strain.
The room became heavy wrong as if the walls were all holding their breath. Shadows flinched at the edge of his eyesight. The ceiling started to ripple, it started bending, and curling into something other.
"What the hell is going on?"
The book dropped from his grasp, pages started trembling as if they were afraid before it landed on the floor with a gentle, terminal thud.
Then
Darkness