Fear of Existence

   Ao did not remember much of how he truly passed , save for the fact that he passed surrounded by fire. The moments leading to his death still played over and over in his mind. He had just finished helping someone buy a replacement guitar - paperwork was easy after years of being able to do nothing but write and read - and the store had been quiet after that.

   The first thing that should have tipped him off was the sudden smell of smoke, the pungent aroma of something sweet burning. He had shrugged it off as his mind playing tricks on him again, that damned recurring nightmare of his getting to him far more than he was ready to admit, or see a doctor about. The sudden heat at his back was what alerted him fully, head whipping around as he ran into the back, now severely aware of the raging inferno around him. He was about to turn around and leave, when he had the distinct feeling he should step forward.

   No sooner had he taken that step, than he heard the deafening crash of burning wood and metal right behind him, followed by the sound of concrete dust that followed. He was well and truly trapped now, a horrific blaze all around him, and nowhere to go. He could already feel himself choking on the smoke, the acrid smell making his weak lungs cough and sputter, begging for oxygen. He let out a soundless scream as the flames started licking at his feet, soon collapsing to the ground, his hands pushed right into the pyre to hold his head up.

   He sat like that for what felt like hours, but was probably only a minute or two, until a hiss caught his ear over the crackling of flames. It came suddenly, a force without warning compressing him, and then launching him into the steel door he'd walked through minutes earlier, then the roar of an explosion, as he lost consciousness, slamming his head against the laquered wooden siding of the wall.

…

   ‘I'm… alive?’ Ao thought to himself, wincing as he felt his scarred, burned hands push against wet soil. Wet soil? Had the fire been put out, and he just left in the soaked ashes? So even when tossed around by an explosion like a ragdoll, and burned alive in a fire, he wasn't worth saving huh? With some grim determination, and a whimper he couldn't suppress, he pushed himself up and into a kneeling position, looking around to see his surroundings

   ‘Trees? And… a river? Where am I?’ He thought to himself, hands reflexively aimed at his face to push his glasses up. Which is why he let out a startled cry when he accidentally poked himself in the eyes.

   “Gaaah!” He covered his face with his hands, trying to recover from the sudden pain lancing through his eyes. Eventually, when he stopped whining and groaning, he pulled his hands down, looking at his surroundings once more. He could see, and without his glasses too. Was this the afterlife, where he'd see his life where nothing happened?

   He carefully stood up, grimacing as he remembered how the flames had licked up his legs before he collapsed. Which is why Ao was even more surprised when he found his legs mostly untouched. Only his arms were blackened and in pain, an indelible mark of pain on his otherwise pristine skin. With a shaky breath, he looked at himself in the river, wondering if any other changes had befallen him, and partially wondering what this afterlife even was - who had gotten right what death looked like.

   He was in a lush forest, vines growing up the sides of moss covered trees, pale blue light washing over the world from what he could only assume was the moon. The river water was a beautiful crystal clear, and small fish he couldn't quite recognize swam around the rocky riverbed. His reflection, while distorted by the flowing water, revealed him unchanged, if his hands were excluded of course.

   His clothes, thank goodness he still had some, were the same ones he'd worn to work that day: black dress pants, a leather belt, and a pale green shirt. He didn't care much for his appearance, especially when shopping for clothes in his size was already such a pain. His hair, still that same bone white that drew the eye, was a bit longer than he remembered, although that could also be because this was the first time he was seeing his face without glasses. He now noticed his eyes, dear gods his eyes, were now a pure and pale pink, no longer shifting with his moods or concentration like they should have.

   That really threw him for a loop, what was he supposed to do with this? Most people recognized his emotions from the shifts in his eyes. His face struggled to maintain any one state for a long time, mostly because his muscles would start aching.

   His thoughts racing faster than he could keep up with them, he coped as he normally would, going for a walk. With the river right beside him, and surrounded by trees, he could almost imagine himself in the forests near his family home. The shady brook that ran beside the park, the tall trees that had been growing there since his grandfather was a child, the strange metal beast….. metal beast?

   Ao's mind shuddered to a halt as he saw the thing, a black, metal beast the size of his bedroom. Its face, split into an eternal cheshire grin, would have been comical, or even cute, were it not for the visage it laid upon. Its eyes, despite being dark and hollow, almost burned with a malignant fury, their forms like upturned crescents.

   Despite being hunched over, sitting back on its haunches as it peered down at Ao, it still stood head and shoulders above him. Head large enough to consume his torso in a single bite. Large, blade-teeth glimmering in the pale blue light.

   Ao screamed, and turned around, running with all his might. His legs and lungs burned for the first few steps, but his adrenaline, his fear, pushed him forward. He didn't hear the thing behind him moving, it must have been really quiet, or maybe a statue? His biggest mistake was turning to look behind himself, as that is when he heard the horrible screeching sound of rusted metal grinding into motion.

   The creature wasn't fast by any means, but it was steady, relentless, and moving with a certain jerky and mechanical shudder that sent a chill down the spine. All the while, that staccato shriek of metal grinding on metal filled the forest.

   He had lost sight of it by now, no longer able to see it through the thick undergrowth. His body burned with exertion, his muscles oxygen starved as his heart and lungs whined and wheezed, doing their level best to cater to his thoroughly overused physique. Yet still that ominous creaking sounded closer than ever, coming from all directions as he stood there, gasping and doubled over, snot and tears streaming off his face in messy streams. Yet, despite all its movements, never once did he feel the ground shake from something of its size taking a step. The monster was loud, and the metal unyielding, but it seemed almost ephemeral in its weight.

   ‘Oh gods, oh gods please help me… get me away from that thing.’ He thought to himself, unable to pray aloud due to his parched throat. His hands were gripping his knees like vices, trying not to slip off them and send him crashing to the floor. His legs shuddered like he was a newborn fawn, unused to this much intense activity. He knew he had to run, now, but he couldn't. Choking on his own phlegm and spit, he finally fell to one knee, hands thrust out to keep his face from once again hitting the dirt.

   The creaking was still there, getting louder and louder as time went on. It had been a minute now, where was it? He looked around hesitantly, hand groping around for a stick, a stone, anything to hit or throw or flail at the creature to keep it away.

   That is when he felt the distinct thump of heavy boots right behind him, the vibrations running through the root ridden soil and into his shins. A cackle reached his ears, one filled with mirth and amusement. A voice distinctly feminine, yet possessing a hearty and almost earthy tone that confused him. His heart and lungs, long having given out and running only on fumes, and with his sudden loss of adrenaline due to hearing a voice that made him feel somewhat safe from the steel monstrosity, he collapsed, eyes closing as he let the sweet embrace of sleep take him, even as his own blood flowed out of his lungs and onto the forest floor.

...

   Ashela didn't know what to make of the collapsed kid in front of her. They looked like some bastard noble child; except bastard children, unless truly reviled, were never burned so badly they had scars. No, this kid was something else, and if his appearance had anything to do with it, he'd seen something he wasn't supposed to. The forest was dangerous this time of year, and that thing walked amongst the trees, all screeching metal and weightless steps. Some of the more foolhardy knights who had wandered into town had claimed it was only an illusion, and they died with that cock sure attitude as its razor claws bisected them, majicked armor and all.

   With a resigned exhale, she reached down her hand, picking up the useless brat by the scruff of their neck, and slinging their body over her shoulder like a sack of adetlones. As much as she hated the damned fruit, she had to admit that it was good enough to help het her through the winter when dried. She looked up towards the blue sun in the sky, checking how much daylight she had before the forest got nasty. A few jerahs, definitely enough to make it back to the village with a near dead kid.

   So she began her trek, grumbling under her breath about how this better be worth her time, and how the kid at least be a noble for her to get some reward money; magic was expensive after all.

...

   When Ao woke up, it was from the fear he felt in his heart for that thing he saw in the woods. It came to him in his nightmares, stalking out of the funeral pyre that surrounded him once again, that called for and celebrated his oncoming death with the uproarious clapping of crackling flames. His gaze remained fixed on the monstrosity of steel and darkness, each silent step timed to his stilling heart, every unearthly scream of metal joints like a peal of laughter rejoicing his misfortune. Death came silently, suddenly, without warning and without ceremony.

   This was not death, it was murder, it was bloodlust, it was cruelty wrapped in an unknowable frame. The black steel of its carapace glowed red hot in the flames, even as it began to melt away, revealing the formless, claw ridden shadow within, cheshire grin still visible despite being pure darkness. 

   As such his sleep-scream was cut short when water was splashed all over his face. He sputtered and coughed as he pushed himself up, bright pink eyes glowing in the light of the nearby fireplace, where a pot of something nice smelling boiled and bubbled within hands reach. His clothes had been changed, as he was now wearing a rough linen tunic, the scratchy fabric clinging and pinching his sensitive skin. His arms were thankfully bandaged, as he felt the many small wrapped bands of the fabric restricting his movements, but his hands still whined protest at the pain of holding him up.

   As his confusion passed, he noticed the woman standing in front of him, holding a now empty cup of water. He opened his mouth to offer her thanks, but only a hacking cough escaped his throat, as several thick globs of phlegm and blood splattered all over the sheets he'd been covered with. She was at his side soon enough, patting his back and whispering words he didn't quite catch into his ear, the look of concern on her face told him enough. She was concerned, or at the very least, tried to look the part. 

   'Is she the one who found me?' He thought absentmindendly, giving himself time to stop feeling pain in his lungs and wipe the tears from his eyes. It still stung, being so reliant on someone, especially since he'd resolved to be independent from here on out. But being burned alive and waking up in a strange afterlife like this was definitely not something he could just walk through.

   He opened his mouth to speak once more, but decided against it, pointing to the cup the woman carried, and then to his neck. It was a gamble whether or not she'd understand what he wanted, a cup of water to soothe his throat. It was a gamble tha paid off though, as the woman left, returning with a now full cup. The liquid inside was not water, instead carrying a bitter yet fruity aroma.

   '...I have no choice, do I?' Ao mused, reaching out his unsteady hands to grip the cup, and the woman only released her grip on the cup when she was sure he was stably propped against the wall. The fruit juice was cool and refreshing, despite being lukewarm. Similar to the cooling effect of mint, it flowing through him, a irrepressible shiver rocking him. He drank and drank until he had emptied the entire cup down his gullet, his pale cheeks flushed with the cold that now suffused his frame. 

   "Thank you for saving me, might I please know your name Miss?" Ao asked, his tone as polite as he could make it despite how scratchy and raw his throat felt. He warmed at seeing her smile at his smile, and place her hands over his. But then she spoke in a language he'd never heard before. Like a mix of guttural rumbles and sparrow-like clicks, all with long, lilting notes stringing together the consonants - at least thats how he interpreted them.

   His blatant confusion clearly unnerved the woman, who was now looking at him like he was a madman. She placed a hand on his neck, as though she was checking his temperature. "Why is my luck always this bad?" He asked aloud, knowing nobody was there to answer him.