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Still distant, she took a sip of her cold, bitter tea. "It showed up after I gave birth. This vacuum where the brightest future used to be. It's my fault."
"It's not your fault. Never is."
Could you fault a candle's flame for being hushed out by a hurricane? Or the poor soul treading in the darkest ocean, sinking from exhaustion? Could you blame the hyena's hunger, or its captured prey's submission to the feast? No, it wasn't her fault. This much he had gathered during his tenure as Exilist.
Of course, there was nothing out there. The height of the walls kept the population ignorant about the severity of the dead world. It had died a lifetime ago; that was no secret. But the sombre truth - that its only inhabitants were the hungry monsters with no hosts - was a reminder best kept quiet. Humanity was on the edge of extinction. Death and horror were all that remained.
Then, for the first tine, Anthem heard his Shiver exclaim a response.
It gave a hideous low moan. Dissonant, harmonic screeching that cut through him like an axe. It sustained, then cut off with no variance in tone, pitch, or volume. Anthem was shaken to the core. It was the most overwhelming thing he had ever heard.
It was the sound of his own death, and the death of his future.
The death of never seeing the water again. Never hearing music. Never enjoying another apple or cigarette.
The death of pushing Melody on the swing, of ever seeing her smile.
And it was the sound of him wanting to live.
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