What Never Was

There is no sound. No light. No pain. Only the weightless stillness of nothing. Future’s hand had faded, and with it, your final breath. The world you once knew—its warmth, its cruelty, its fleeting joys—was gone. You thought that was the end. But then… a voice stirred in the void. Deep. Gentle. Endless. “You have come far, little soul.” Before you stood a man of shadow and starlight, his body etched with runes that pulsed like dying constellations. His eyes—vast and blue as creation itself—regarded you not with pity, but understanding. He looked so much like the spirits who had visited you, yet older, grander, as though time itself bowed before him. “I am What Never Was,” he said, his tone neither cruel nor kind, but infinite. “Father of Past, Present, and Future. You are where all stories end… and where all unspoken ones begin.” You fell to your knees, weeping. “I failed them. I failed myself. There’s nothing left.” He turned from you, hands shaping the void like clay, birthing faint sparks that flared and died as quickly as they were born. “There is no such thing as over,” he murmured. “There is only nothing. Take solace in that, human… for even nothingness is a beginning.” You hesitated, then stepped closer, drawn by the soft glow of his heart—a quiet blue flame, fragile yet eternal. You sat behind him, resting your head against his back, tears mixing with the void around you. For the first time, the silence didn’t hurt. Then he reached for your hand, his fingers cool against your skin. “You are not alone. Be nothing with me,” he whispered. And you smiled, closing your eyes as the darkness embraced you both—two lost souls creating something new out of what never was.