Weight(part 1)

Pain his old friend held his whole body in an affectionate embrace. He groaned in his sleep, tossing and turning where he lay as his senses slowly returned to him.

The world around him was dark and his eyelids felt like lead, heavy; refusing to reveal the pools of darkness they hid beneath. His body felt even heavier as he tried to move his limbs. He struggled helplessly to open his eyes.

A blinding yellow flame forced his eyes shut as it's warmth kissed his face. The strength that had seemingly left him returned to his limbs allowing him to move his arm, shielding himself from the assaulting light. The movement caused his whole body to groan in agony and his muscles to react likewise.

Like clockwork, his mind recalled the preceding events. The pain and regret that accompanied them all too familiar.

"God's you are pathetic" a voice uttered in the darkness, the words as hurtful as they were truthful. In retrospect, pathetic was not enough to describe him, he groaned some more as his body pulsated with pain.

In his stay in the nether, reality was slowly being reduced to merely a concept. Everything seemed so real until it didn't, the veil between dream and reality becoming thinner and thinner. With each passing revelation, sanity promised to make camp in his mind and he had no way of challenge it's occupation.

The horrifying encounters flashed in his mind as horror griped his heart in its icy claws.

Beyond the vines and tentacles, he recalled voices yelling out his name in agony, some cussing him out like he was the source of their suffering but amidst the disharmony, a single voice spoke, it's words unintelligible to Michael but the reassurance it brought settling the turmoil that was brewing, if only slightly.

A hand pressed on his shoulder, the voice from earlier adding something that he couldn't make out.

The contact was unsettling exacerbating the sourness that plagued his muscles. He pushed the arm away and struggled to force himself to stand up. His hand fell on nothing but empty air and his body tumbled to the ground in a heavy thud as a pained groan escaped his lips.

The light from before moved abruptly in response to his falling, as if the bearer of it was moving away from his falling body.

His whole body groaned as he rolled over to lie on his back staring at the lantern that seemed to float by itself in the air. It was a confusing sight; it hovered in place, shifting slightly, the world behind it shrouded in shadows. His mind was too drained to process more of what he was looking at.

An eerie feeling enveloped him. All his encounters with the unknown shared a harrowing ending. His body reacted and his heart quickened as he struggled to shuffle away from the floating lantern.

"Calm down, you were having a bad dream." Caster spoke in a stun, unfeeling voice in an attempt to snap Michael out of his daze.

Michael, his back against the wall, blink curiously, his eyes slowly adjusting to the light.

A man stood behind the lantern, bathed in the shadows it cast. Rage eclipsed his pain as he recognized the lantern bearer.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKER!"

"What happened to thank you?" Caster asked his voice doused in sarcasm.

"You were trying to kill me!"

"Oh, cry me a river. You are weak, that's what" Caster retorted disregarding Michael's visible displeasure of how everything had unfolded. His voice lacking any of it's previous calm, rising to match Michael's anger.

"FUCK YOU!" Michael yelled in outrage, his mind too suffocated by anger to form anything other than cusses.

He forced himself to stand, his whole body shacking as he tried and failed to calm himself down that was until he allowed the rage to fester. Why was he trying to calm himself down? He was mad at Caster and he wanted the despicable man to understand every inch of his pain.

"To what end? Rich of you to think I even care what you feel." That was the affirmation that Michael had waited on. It had bothered him, not so greatly that he devoted his mind to the idea, but enough that he watched out for it's signs. Telepathy.

"Oh, are you surprised? It sickens me how oblivious you are to everything." Caster added, proceeding to validate Michael's conclusion.

"Half of me hoped you'd die in that damned field. The other half hoped you wouldn't so that I could end you with my own bare hands." His voice was filled with spite. Michael was momentarily stunned at Caster's outward show of disdain towards him. What did he do to this man to earn his eerie?

"I listened to your thoughts from the moment I rescued you from that beast looking back, I regret ever doing either. If I had known your were this pathetic, I would have allowed the beast to clean up it's plate. All you have done since you arrived is whine like a fucking child. 'boohoo my girlfriend, boohoo she cheated, boohoo I want to die'.

You are a fucking waste. I promised I'd answer your questions right? Well here it is you. You are supposed to be Sol Sakheti, offspring of deaths legacy and bearer of his mark. Destroyer of kingdoms, master of all that is mortal. Every soul that knows your face quakes in fear and bows in reverence. You are supposed to be the harbinger of death upon all that breaths.

Look at yourself! do you see any of those evident?"

Frozen in place, Michael struggled to make sense of the rage and hate in Caster's voice.

He did not ask for any of this in the first place. If anything, he wanted it gone. Yet here he was, alive when he wanted to be dead, entangled in the workings of an alien world, for an alien god.

The two men stared at each other, both filled with rage; one more spiteful. Their eyes burrowing into the other's soul.

A vague feeling of vertigo overcame Michael and the world appeared to spin.

Caster's words, the blade of his voice, the intensity of his stare, all brought down the veil of false confidence Michael had so painstakingly build up to protect himself from crumbling. It was a sorry attempt to keep himself motivate; somewhere deep within his being, the curse of man plagued him.

He wished to give up, but he couldn't.

The impasse remained, transcending into the chaos that ate at him from the inside.

Listening to Caster berate him, he felt small. Naked was the word, he felt like a child infront of an angry parent. He had always sort to pacify any he angered; to not disappoint those who put their hope in him. As the echoes of Caster's words rang through his mind, he felt weighed down by the uneasy feeling of having disappointed one such person.

It was right that he hated Castors words, yet, could he really deny them. It was only recently he had calmed down enough to look into the future; it was refreshing, allowing him hope, yet before that, he really had been miserable and he still felt so.

He had wanted to understand Casters rage, why was the man mad? Now it was slowly dawning on him. Just like before, he felt he had become a disappointment. The air felt thinner and his vision tunneled slightly.

The voice in his head attempted to console him with a thought. 'Wasn't Caster the one who had gone out of his way to save you?'

Maybe it was not out of the good of his heart. Then what, he had an ulterior motive? It was a wild assumption, but the possibility would was undeniable. The other likely scenario was he did it out of the goodness of his heart but eventually changed his mind after learning of Michael's true predicament.

Was that really his fault then?

[Authors Note: Enjoy! Feedback is appreciated]