I sprinted toward the light, ignoring the risk of falling. After months of wandering the same endless terrain, I had learned how to navigate this torment—even in complete darkness.
Reaching the light wasn't easy. It was both impossibly distant and teasingly close. Even after sprinting for hours, resting briefly when exhaustion took over, the direction remained unchanged.
Yet, something was different. Though I hadn't reached it, the glow seemed closer than before. That alone was enough to fill me with hope, pushing aside the relentless hunger and thirst clawing at me.
Panting, I kept running. For two days, I fought forward, and finally, I was near enough to make out the new scenery ahead.
What lay before me was a desert of white sand, scattered with lifeless, pale trees stretching endlessly in every direction. As I walked closer, my gaze lifted to the sky—there, a sun, or perhaps a star, glowed overhead. But unlike the familiar warmth of home, this one burned cold and white.
But none of that mattered now.
I was just relieved to finally see something—anything—after wandering endlessly in the dark.
Even though this was a desert, I welcomed it. Compared to the endless void, it was the lesser of two evils… or maybe my mind had twisted itself into believing that.
As I stepped onto the sand, the sensation of softer ground and the soft rush of wind nearly overwhelmed me. My body, so accustomed to emptiness, reacted with shock, and I collapsed backward onto my hip.
As my eyes adjusted to the brightness, I finally saw myself clearly. My hands, torso, and legs—covered in scratches, the desperate marks I had carved into my own skin to dull the thirst.
It was a terrible sight. The fresh wounds stung, while the older ones had turned black, scarring my skin with proof of my suffering. And, of course, I was completely naked.
I had suspected this while trapped in the darkness but never truly confirmed it—until now.
In the dark void, there was no wind—just complete nothingness. Yet somehow, I was able to breathe. I had no explanation for it. Then again, this was the Abyss. Trying to make sense of this place with logic was pointless.
As I moved forward in the sand, something changed—the sound of my footsteps.
For months, I had wandered in silence, hearing only the dull, monotonous echo of my own movements. That near-absence of sound had threatened to break my sanity, yet, strangely, I didn't lost it. Three months of torment, yet I hadn't completely lost myself.
Now, I had a new goal. The first priority was finding water. Hunger could wait, but thirst, even in its illusionary form, had been my worst torment here. If I had to suffer in the Abyss, I would at least fight against the constant grip of thirst.
As I moved forward, I noticed the dead trees scattered across the landscape. Their fallen branches provided an unexpected convenience—I managed to find a walking stick.
Surprisingly, some of the dead trees were incredibly sturdy, while others crumbled at the slightest touch. The stick I chose was one of the durable ones, offering much-needed support as I continued my journey.
But the thirst lingered, growing worse with every step. My survival instincts finally kicked in, and I decided to dig near one of the stronger dead trees, hoping to find something beneath the surface.
The ground was softer than before, making it far easier to dig. After an hour of relentless effort, I finally uncovered a hidden source—water, or rather, a white liquid.
Without a second thought, I drank it. Poisonous or not, I could worry about that later. At that moment, I had no time to contemplate life or death—I simply had to survive.
I drank until I felt satisfied, and for the first time in months, I smiled. Tears of joy streamed down my face.