Darkness, Exists?

Chapter-3

As the last of the daylight fade into the embrace of night, a figure stands staring out the window. He watches over a world that he can no longer truly see. And as darkness descends upon the land, enveloping everything in its shadowy embrace, he stands alone, a solitary figure trapped in a world of eternal night.

His silhouette is outlined against the backdrop of the window. With his back to the fading light, he gazes out into the gathering darkness, his posture rigid and unmoving. Yet despite the beauty of the sunset that bathes the world beyond in a cascade of orange and gold, the figure remains untouched by its splendor.

For his eyes, once bright and vibrant, now have no hint of sight. Instead, they are shrouded in an opaque whiteness, devoid of vision or perception. He stands in silent isolation, his gaze fixed on the horizon, yet all he sees is an endless expanse of blackness that stretches out before him.

Outside, the world is alive with the whispers of evening, the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of crickets filling the air with a symphony of sound. But within the confines of the room, there is only silence, broken only by the steady rhythm of the figure's breathing as he stands lost in his own thoughts.

Despite the pain and horror etched into every line of his weather-beaten face, there is a haunting beauty to the figure's features.

Beneath his translucent white eyes, dark bags bear witness to the burdens he carries, a testament to the sleepless nights spent in silent contemplation of his fate. His skin however is pink. Not from blood rush; they look more sunburnt. Sunburnt to the point that they must be painful to the touch. Like the figure has spent most of his days laboring under the harsh sun. The skin on his cheeks look particularly bad, like any moment now blisters will erupt in every square inch of his delicate skin.

His curly black hair falls in untamed waves onto his forehead, framing his face in a halo of darkness that serves as a stark reminder of the shadow that looms over him. In several places, cuts, scars and bruises mar his hollowed out cheeks, a testament to the trials of his captivity.

The figure attempts to lift his hand, only to be met with the cold resistance of heavy metal shackles that bind his wrists, rendering his movements futile. He lowers his gaze, though his sightless eyes cannot perceive the sight before him, and smiles. Smiles at own miserable reality.

Though he cannot see it, the tips of his fingers are coated in a deep, inky blackness, as if he had plunged them into the very depths of the darkest abyss. Like darkness itself drops from his nail beds. The color stands in stark contrast to the pallid pink of his burnt skin, a jarring reminder of the horrors that surrounds him.

With each step, the heavy metal shackles jangle ominously, their metallic echoes reverberating through the barren confines of the room as the figure slowly makes his way back to the bed. With a heavy sigh, he lowers himself onto the rickety mattress, the weight of his exhaustion pressing heavily upon him.

As he settles onto the bed, he can feel the warmth of the sun's rays filtering through the window, their gentle caress a stark reminder of the pain that awaits him. The light will soon illuminate the room, casting its ruthless glow upon his burnt skin and causing him to burn away a little more.

With a resigned acceptance of his fate, the figure lies back upon the bed, his body tense with anticipation as he awaits the inevitable. Light is pain.

And so, Kim Taehyung closes his eyes and waits.

*****

Under the brilliant canopy of a cloudless sky, Lumina basks in the radiant glow of the midday sun. Golden sunlight floods the kingdom, bathing every corner in a warm, luminous embrace. Not a single wisp of cloud mars the azure expanse above, as the sun reigns supreme, casting its benevolent rays upon the land below.