Moonless Nights

Everything was nothing.

Pain no longer mattered to him.

Nor was time of any consequence to him anymore, either, as his body burned atop the sacrificial pyre. No matter how his skin sloughed off in the unbearable heat or the smoke burned his lungs, he refused to scream. He had screamed for millions upon millions of worlds now, but his voice had finally grown hoarse. He burned for hours, but even though he received the gentle kiss of death several times, his immortal body always revived back into a wretched existence of eternal suffering.

Like a twisted phoenix, he would burn until the death of the universe, and even then, he would still burn. It was his only purpose, and deep down he knew he invited his fate upon himself.

As his kind eyes melted into their sockets, he wondered how long it would be until the sacrifice was completed and his body could be used for someone else's selfish whims.

But this pain was nothing compared to the despair in his heart.

No matter how hard he tried, it always came to this. Even though he gave them so many chances, humanity continued to be despicable. He hated it. He hated everything about the world and despised all of God's creation. Or that was what he told himself. Once, he loved humans, and on a basic level, perhaps he still did despite himself. Maybe he didn't hate them on their own, just their actions--but how could he reconcile conflicting feelings like that? He didn't want to be engulfed in this darkness, but every time he tried to crawl back into the light he was flung back into his deep hole where coldness penetrated through every fiber of his being.

He was cursed to suffer, and he was cursed to hate. That was the purpose of his existence. Nothing else mattered.

The pyre flames receded and were extinguished. He coughed and sputtered as a bucket of water was poured over his head.

"That should do it," remarked one of his captors. He leaned over him, still fastened in his bonds and charred with ash, but alive. Always alive. "Hey, you, you can grant our wish now, right?"

With a click, the still-hot iron bonds released him and he sat up, quivering from shock. He looked the man straight in the eyes, unable to convey just how much he despised him even with his seething glare.

"The ritual is complete," he confirmed, voice raspy and dry.

"And?"

He stood up, and suddenly his body erupted into intense light, lifting up into the air. The ash blew away, saturating the pure snow, and he looked down on them, radiant and otherworldly. "I guess I failed again," he said, but his anger was no more. All that was left was an impersonal coldness, perhaps a hint of disappointment, but not much more than that. "You, who so hated this world wished to destroy it, I will grant your wish." The light grew more blinding by the second. "As per your request, I will end your persecution, your suffering, selfish humans who chose to continue the cycle of hatred despite your experiences. Yes, I've felt your despair through how much despair you've given others!"

The captors froze, not understanding his words, but by now the light was so intense it was like there was a supernova explosion atop the secluded mountain they were hiding on.

"H-Hey!" stuttered one, "you're going to remake this world, right--?"

Rising far into the stratosphere, the young man's voice boomed throughout the encampment. "You'll never have to suffer again! I'll take away your pain! I'll make sure of it!" As the light spread through the heavens, the False One's eyes filled with tears and he smiled. "Now, sleep."

And before they could protest, the light was snuffed out.