Godless Blood: Last Apostle

Silver stared into the vast emptiness of the desert, the scorching sun beating down on his pale skin. The air was dry, suffocating, and his throat burned with every breath. He barely noticed anymore. It had been two weeks since Mira's death, and the weight of that loss had hollowed him out. His body felt like a foreign shell, one that was slowly falling apart at the seams. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, or the last time he cared.

His world had become a blur of sand and sky, an endless stretch of nothingness. The wind whispered through the desolate landscape, but there was no comfort in it. No solace. Just like there was no comfort in the darkness that consumed him every waking moment.

Silver had no purpose left.

The thought of ending it all had crossed his mind more times than he could count, but he didn't have the strength. It was easier to let the emptiness consume him, let his body waste away slowly. He hadn't eaten in days. He couldn't bring himself to care about food, about survival, about anything. The world had lost its color, its vibrancy. All that remained was the crushing, aching emptiness of grief.

The memory of Mira's final smile, that brief flash of hope before the rocks sealed her away from him, was the only thing that haunted him now. He could still hear her voice in the back of his mind, though it was faint. Stay with me, Silver. Stay with me…

It had been a lie. She hadn't stayed. She hadn't been able to.

And he couldn't do this without her. He wasn't strong enough.

The wind kicked up, sending a swirl of dust into his face. Silver closed his eyes, his vision blurring with tears he refused to shed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there—hours, days, maybe longer. It didn't matter anymore.

A soft sound—like a whisper on the wind—caught his attention.

"Mira…"

His voice cracked, barely audible in the vast emptiness. The air seemed to shift, and for a moment, Silver could have sworn he heard a faint laugh. He turned his head sharply, scanning the horizon for any sign of her, but the desert was empty. Only sand and sky stretched out before him.

Yet the sound remained, faint but unmistakable.

"Mira?" He whispered again, his heart skipping a beat. Could it be? Could she—?

A figure appeared on the edge of his vision, barely more than a shadow against the pale landscape. His breath caught in his throat, and his chest tightened painfully.

No… It can't be.

But there she was. Mira. Her form was blurry, flickering like a mirage, but her presence was undeniable. Her long hair, once vibrant, now seemed translucent in the harsh light, and her eyes, though soft, held an unearthly sadness. She looked just as he remembered, yet there was something ethereal about her now, as though she was both there and not there at the same time.

"Mira…" Silver choked on her name, his voice weak and trembling. "How… How can you be here? You're—"

"Silver…" Her voice, though soft, pierced his heart like a knife. The sound was both familiar and foreign, and it sent a shiver down his spine. "You're weak."

The words were like a punch to his gut, and for a moment, Silver thought he might collapse. His knees buckled beneath him, but he didn't fall. The world tilted, his body swaying in the heat, but his eyes stayed locked on the apparition of Mira before him.

"I… I couldn't save you," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I… I should have done more. I should have—"

"Silver…" Mira interrupted him, her eyes softening. She took a step closer, as she put a clear hand onto his shoulder. "You did everything you could. But you weren't strong enough."

"Yes," he muttered. "I failed you."

Mira's form flickered, her presence growing more distant. "I'm gone, Silver. But you have to keep going. For me. Get stronger. Remember your past. And avenge me."

His breath hitched in his throat as she reached out, her hand barely inches from his. He wanted to touch her, to hold her, but she was fading, slipping through his fingers like sand. The space between them felt endless, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't close it. His hand reached out, desperate.

"I can't… I can't live without you," he whispered, his chest tight, the pain too much to bear.

Her voice was faint now, but there was something in it that anchored him. "Survive, Silver. You have to survive. For both of us."

And then, she was gone.

The desert was silent again.

Silver stood motionless, his body trembling with exhaustion, with grief, with the ache of loss. He didn't know how long he stood there, frozen in place, but a strange sensation started to pull him out of the haze. He wasn't alone anymore. He had to keep moving. He didn't know where he was going, but he couldn't stay here, in the same place where she had vanished.

A sharp pang of hunger hit him in the stomach. He didn't have the energy to ignore it anymore. His body was weak, starving, but something in him shifted, a spark of life he hadn't felt in days. It wasn't much, but it was something. A reason to fight, a reason to move forward.

He staggered a few steps, his legs unsteady beneath him. His vision blurred, and he dropped to his knees, panting. His hands fumbled around the dirt and sand, searching for anything to feed him. A tiny scurrying motion caught his eye.

A bug. Small, brown, and crawling across the sand.

Silver stared at it for a moment, the hunger gnawing at him. He hesitated for just a moment—was this how far he had fallen? But the hunger won. Slowly, he reached out, grabbing the insect with trembling fingers. He brought it to his mouth, his stomach turning, but he didn't care. It was life. It was survival.

His first step toward living again.