A Scripta

Lodestar welcomed the summons back into Nate’s mind. He no longer belonged among the world of men. He no longer was a man. He no longer knew who he was.

Nate’s mind was empty and gray. Whatever light existed was diffused, blank, empty. The world was flat. No scent was carried along an existent wind. Where was the grass, the fire, the blood, the flesh?

He stood surveying the scene, as Nate appeared beside him. Nate was dressed in gray, in the same colors as the asylum’s uniform, the only difference was his hair was black. Lodestar smiled at him. “Want the car back?”

Nate focused on Lodestar. Lodestar stepped back for a moment in fear. Nate’s eyes were also gray, empty.

“Nate, I don’t think you’re ready to go back out there.”

“There’s nothing left for me here. I’ve done all I could. I’ve exorcised all the dead demons and put aside all the ones that were living.” He pointed over Lodestar’s shoulder. “Now I need to confront the ones out there.”

“You’re just as dangerous. You don’t feel anything.”

“I never did, Lodestar.”

“Of course you did. You still love Dais’kay--“

Nate suddenly collapsed. Lodestar went to his knees beside him and watched as Nate grew even grayer, as if blood flowed out of him. Then Nate himself faded slowly, even while Lodestar tried to gather him in his arms. As Nate disappeared, Lodestar whispered, “You’re not ready, Nate…”