Chapter 3: A burning theater

The being was now on a staircase, sitting in a slumped posture with its elbows on its knees and its face in its hands. The three visions it saw gave it a considerable amount of information on its past, but it could hardly make any sense of it. It seemed to know everything shown in the memories of what they were, what they were used for, and how to use them properly; the knowledge just seemed to be there. But it didn't know why they were doing those things; why they were fighting; why they stopped. Why did they bow? To whom did they bow?

The soul knew what it was in the old world. It was the one thing it was completely sure of. From the moment it awoke in the dark abyss, to the present moment, it knew it had been, and was, a human. It had two arms and two legs, two hands and two feet, and probably the same facial features. It had to assume it did because it hadn't seen its own face yet. It knew precisely what it was, but it had no idea who it was in 

The being was now on a staircase, sitting in a slumped posture with its elbows on its knees and its face in its hands. The three visions it saw gave it a considerable amount of information on its past, but it could hardly make any sense of it. It seemed to know everything shown in the memories of what they were, what they were used for, and how to use them properly; the knowledge just seemed to be there. But it didn't know why they were doing those things; why they were fighting; why they stopped. Why did they bow? To whom did they bow? the past. 

What were they like in the old world? Were they happy, or were they sad? Were they kind, or were they cruel? What did they do in their life? Did they bring joy and heal others, or did they poison whoever they met with sorrow and hurt? Did they do anything at all? Were they even real, or was their past just a figment of their imagination? No, surely it was real. The visions that it saw were too vivid to not be. "Right?" It posed a question to the void, and, as always, the dark abyss answered with naught but silence.

The being's grip suddenly strengthened, and its fingers dug into its scalp. Its head felt feverish and hot, almost burning its hands that it rested on. It felt a heavy burden on its skull. It could not move. For when it did, the world seemed to spin and its eyes would refuse to open. It could feel its chest becoming sickeningly light, and in its mouth sat a taste of steel that dizzied its senses.

The heat in its head intensified and its mind became more chaotic. Its thoughts were a mess; from sentences, they degraded into strings of related words, then into incoherent babble. Its back arched further, its fingers strengthened their grip, and its hands gripped ever tighter, as if trying to crush whatever it held in its palms.

The soul's breath became ragged and quick; it gasped for any bit of air it could get. As its state worsened, it thought of what was happening to its body. The sensations it felt were unlike the pain it went through before. The ripping and tearing of flesh, though agonizing and painful, was bearable, but this new kind of suffering was something completely new to it. Its entire being experienced not a trace of pain, but weakness and fever had struck suddenly. Its body was sluggish and weak, its mind excessively quick and erratic, cycling through many thoughts of panic and fear. With the body and mind in conflict, it could not confront the sickness that plagued itself, the havoc it wreaked, worsened by the second.

At this moment, the being did not want anything but a way to fix its current state, to bring it back to how it was before. It had no options to choose from. There was no one who would come to heal it. There was no item that could give it relief. The only tool it had was its mind. Its focus sharpened, it set aside the sensations of illness and sickness, and it peered deep into its own mind with a clear intent.

Inside the being's mind was a reflection of its surroundings, a dark nothing that showed with no light. As the being traveled deeper in search of a cure for its condition, it was met with sights and scenes that felt new and unfamiliar, but exuded a longing sense of nostalgia.In one, it was in a blue room, with a woman in front of it, throwing its hands up and down in a playful manner while smiling.In another, it was in a white room furnished with chairs, couches, and tables; it sat on the shoulder of a man who was talking to another who wore a white coat.

The being was captivated by these two scenes, and it saw others like them just further away. All it had to do was travel further. As it tried to do so, its ventures into its mind were interrupted by a burning sensation, not one that came from within, but from outside. It could feel its skin being ripped from its flesh by a searing flame. It was thrust out of its deep state of mind, and when it opened its eyes, it no longer felt as sickly as it did before, but the heat and pain made themselves apparent throughout its body.

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The being's eyes darted from its body to the ship; what it saw gave it surprise. The ship was coated in flames that lit up its entirety. The wooden ground had tears and holes outlined by fire and black char marks. The three poles that held the sails of the ship were ablaze with orange tendrils that extended their reach, and the sails themselves fluttered in the wind whilst aflame.

The wooden boat burned with fervor, the heat getting stronger and the fire growing bigger. Everything that the flames touched would char into a sandy black. The flames would roar, getting louder each time. The embers that came from the burning ship floated to the sky and shone brightly in the dark background, like a star that illuminated the place, and like stars, they would burn out and be replaced by new ones. The sound of burning wood and the howl of structural collapse sounded throughout the ship as it continued to burn.

Still on the stairs, the soul sat still, watching the ship burn in its orange light. Its eyes were locked onto the fire, another source of heat and light that was destroying a connection to the old world and the being itself. Its whole face twitched with erratic movement. Its instincts told it to run from the pain, run from the danger, but it did not. The spirit refused to move its body or to take its eyes off the flames, completely unmoving and still.

Even as the fire covered its entire lower body, the being did not flinch. The fire crackled louder, and the flames' roars became fiercer. Then, suddenly, a loud snap reverberated throughout the ship. The object fell through the sky with a noise like that of a high-pitched whisper, cutting the wind in front of it to make way. 

The being shifted its look from the fire on the floor to the flames that covered the ship's entirety. It stared at the bright orange color that consumed the ship, admiring its light and the embers it sent towards the dark above. Its mouth curved into a soft smile, then it spoke, "Beautiful." It stared intensely at the beauty of the event, uncaring about the inching sound over its head. It looked longer and longer, its gaze never leaving the blazing art in front of it, then all went dark.

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The being It jolted up and gasped for air. It panted in a sweat. Its hair stood on end, every pore cried nervous tears, and its body stood shivering with its eyes fully opened, darting in every direction it could go to. It turned its head. It checked its surroundings one last time before its mouth began to move. "W-wha? What just happened?"

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