The Tower's Secret

6. Fleeting Normalcy

Flitting days transformed into weeks, and weeks ripened into months.

Grey sat outside the shed as usual, bathing in the sunlight as he gazed at the horizon. How strange; the land appeared so peaceful... As if death and hatred never existed in the first place. He closed his eyes as the distant sound of fighting and the soft lullaby of the earth entered his ears, melding together into a surprisingly soothing tune.

When had normalcy pervaded his life?

Time was a peculiar thing; it dragged on endlessly yet flowed by so quickly. Before long, Grey had become stronger. His height grew, likewise his muscles. And though he knew he was still weak, his excessive training for endurance and speed had paid off, for what he lacked in raw power could be compensated in other ways.

Suddenly, a distant gunshot sounded, followed by a scream of pain. Grey closed his eyes, sighing lightly. His chest twinged, but he knew he wasn't qualified to feel pity; nor could he condemn the killer.

For after all, he was the same. It was surprising what he could do for survival, what he could do after adapting to the world for a mere few months. He had conformed to the rules of life and death so easily.

Grey stared at his hands, clenching and unclenching them. Yet strangely enough, whenever he took a life, he inevitably closed his eyes at the last moment, shutting away the face of his opponent right before he delivered the finishing blow. Why was that? What compulsion made him do it?

Perhaps, was he scared of seeing his victims' faces? Was he somehow rejecting death by turning away from it? Was he subconsciously still trying to preserve his sense of moral?

He didn't know the answer.

Grey gazed back inside the shed, discarding his otherwise pensive thoughts. He was currently guarding Asis who was sleeping, and it seemed that she was still silently basking in a dream, unknowingly gripping a book in her arms. 

Asis read very frequently, often scouring the Field of Objects for books which she called 'stories within already existing stories.' She must have still been reading when she'd fallen asleep. Grey tilted his head. She slept like that often; maybe it was a habit absorbed from the Other World.

The Other World...

Grey closed his eyes. Oh, how he wished he had a storyline to dream of. Even after so many months, his true identity still evaded him. His empty dreams scared him, a looming darkness which sat stagnantly in his heart.

However, Grey glanced back Asis's sleeping form, and he smiled slightly. Maybe, just maybe, it didn't matter anymore.

For slowly as time passed, his fear was pushed away by something better.

Asis. He treasured the time spent with her, sometimes wandering outside with her for days, sometimes staying in the small shed for long hours. Aside from fighting and survival, she showed him many other things—how to read and write, how to whistle, how to sing, how to roll his tongue—things that she did in the Other World all the time. She even corrected his grammar every day, and though that annoyed him, her corrections still contributed to his irreplaceable everyday life.

He was happy enough with Asis. Asis, who shone brilliantly when she talked; Asis, who gestured as if she were performing. She was his sun, his star. The light chased away his darkness.

Suddenly, Asis stirred from her sleep, groaning and slowly pushing herself up in mild confusion. She was always disoriented when she woke up, as if bewildered about where she was. Her bleary eyes locked in eye contact with him, lighting up in recognition.