Fog clung to the city like a shroud. The ring of seven moons hung overhead, casting more than enough light to reveal the collapsed beams and rubble scattered across its streets.

  A year after the Whispers, Vernis still hadn't learned how to stand.

  In the shadow of one broken wall, near a mound of rubble, a man stood, his clothes too fine for this ruined world. He was mumbling in a low voice: “I wish to be in nowhere, making it a realm of my own.”

  Then he stopped, glancing around in anticipation. He was waiting for the Whisperer, he should hear the being at any moment, he could be gone any second. But nothing happened. The man massaged his temples in frustration. “Come on…”

  “Dad?”

  A voice cut through the silence of the night, The man spun toward its source. Above the pile of cement, wood, and rebar was a small boy with big blue eyes and messy dark hair.

  “It’s cold out. What are you doing?” asked Michael.

  “Get off before you hurt yourself.” The man rushed to the child. Grabbing Micheal gently, he placed him on solid ground, and heaved a sigh of relief. The boy’s questioning eyes examined the worn-out brown suit. “Are you going somewhere?”

  Air got stuck in the man's lungs, he didn't have the heart to tell the truth. The boy asked another question, “Are you going to leave like Granny?”

  The man knelt, cupped the boy’s cold cheeks and said as he caressed them, “Never. I love you more than anything, little guy. I’m not leaving you, or Grandpa. I promise.”

  He could see his son's attempt at gleaming the truth by examining his eyes. It didn't take long for the boy to give up his search. Michael nodded without saying anything, believing his father's words.

  The man let go, his eyes followed Michael who turned and picked his way back through the mound of rubble, toward the half-collapsed shelter they once called home.

  Michael was halfway inside the open wall when he stopped, then abruptly turned as he spoke “Dad, I forget, Grandpa wanted to know if he could borrow your—”

  “Dad?”

  Below the mound, where his father had stood mere moments ago, only dust and dirt swayed.

  No one was there.

  That was the last thing he remembered.

  …

  Elyas opened his eyes, heart racing, the half-finished question still echoing in his mind. Was it a dream? Or had it been real? He wanted it to be just a bad dream, a horrible, persistent nightmare.

  But he still remembered that night clearly, he could still feel the cold wind on his skin, remember every crack of his home's wall, remember the Wish he made.

  Remember his own lie.

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  ‘Why did I wish to be in nowhere?! What was I thinking?!’ He wanted to scream or punch something to let out his anger…but all he had was himself. There was nothing in the void.

  Elyas spoke, almost defeated, “Couldn’t I at least be more descriptive?” That would have helped, but it was all passed him now.

  ‘To think this is how I go out.’

  He let out a chuckle as he glanced at his ragged brown suit. “At least I’m dying with style.” His chuckle turned into bitter laughter as it filled the void, It strained his dry throat, making him cough violently. After swallowing some saliva to deal with that, he cleared his throat and spoke.

  “I wish for a realm of my own, with absolute control over every part of it…” then he waited, begging whatever gods were alive that the Whisperer answered. But he got the usual silence, nothing but the void’s static, ever present hum.

  “Nothing...”

  He wanted to let out a scream to let out the bubbled up frustration, Instead, he just sighed, “Well, I’ll try tomorrow.” Elyas knew it was useless. Because he had already used his Wish. No one got a second, he was aware of that all too well recently.

  But he had to ignore that fact. He had to ignore reason to create one to live for.

  Elyas raised one hand behind his head and struck, making himself pass out.

  …

  Elyas opened his eyes, his body covered in cold sweat. After reprimanding himself for not being specific enough, he looked around out of habit.

  He was surrounded by an infinite space devoid of even the most basic elements of existence. There was no air, no land, not even light. Strangely, despite the lack of light, it was pure white.

  ‘Why am I even doing this? How long can I keep this up? Will…I see them again?’ Elyas didn't like to think about it much, it did little to comfort him, so he tried his best to ignore the thought.

  “I wish for a realm of my own, with absolute control over every part of it.” He repeated the same line. He wasn't sure for how long though, it could have been months or years at this point. Time didn't pass here, it only pooled, which made his wait for a response feel endlessly long.

  But only one thing answered his call every time, silence.

  Elyas sighed.“Nothing again—”

  [Granted.]

  The word arrived like a bell, ringing inside his skull. A Whisper. Elyas jolted, spinning in place. His senses became keener as he felt pressure build up in his skull. His head hurt as hatred filled his chest, warming it along with his heart's rapid thumping.

  “You bastard! Show yourself!” he shouted, It was quiet for a while, then the voice returned, seemingly amused by his reaction.

  [When the time comes, be thankful to your fathers and kin.]

  Ice slid down Elyas's spine, he had assumed the void was private at this point. But why would it be? If the Whisperer could put him here in the first place, he could hear him too.

  [A world, a throne made for the likes of you. There’s no escaping its grasp. You are bound to its eternal wait which makes you invincible.]

  Then, as abruptly as it came, the voice stopped, and the void returned to its usual quiet.

  “…What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Elyas stopped to review his actions. ‘Maybe bad-mouthing an omnipresent being isn't that great of an idea…’

  He fell silent after that, lost in thought. Elyas had given up on leaving because he had no way to escape, that is why he resigned himself to doing something as absurd as expecting a second Wish.

  Although, that wasn't to say he played no part in getting himself into this situation. But who would have thought that wishing to be nowhere would make you unable to escape said nowhere?

  ‘They really do give you the worst Cost they can. Speaking of… can I leave now?’

  As soon as Elyas thought of that, another question came forth. ‘I got a second wish… did I? Or have I finally lost it?’ Elyas wondered as he floated. Having a second Wish was something unheard of, but he didn't care about how exceptional something like that was. He wanted to make sure he actually got it, and if could leave the void.

  ‘Well, there’s one way to find out… If I really got a second wish, I should be able to change something about this place… but what?’

  Elyas glanced around as he thought. Surrounding him was all white. Pure, untouchable pristine white stretched to infinity in all directions. Then something clicked, and an idea formed. Color. If he really got another wish, he should be able to change the color.

  So, over the next few minutes, he tried exactly that. Elyas tried all kinds of things, from chanting nonsense, to weird hand gestures, nothing worked until he simply said:

  “Black.”

  As soon as the words left his mouth, the world around him shifted. Like a rising tsunami from the horizon, a flood of darkness rose up into the sky, and subsequently fell. It swallowed everything completely, now, replacing the void's eternal white, was jet black. It somehow felt emptier than before. Darker. Even though nothing had changed, Elyas was sure of it. It felt cramped, he felt like a mouse standing in the cat’s den.

  It was as if behind the curtain of darkness, thousands of eyes were watching his every move. Inspecting his very heartbeat, his every breath, his every thought. The fact that there was no surface to stand on, rapidly turned into the realization that there was no way to run.

  Elyas slowly paled. Trying to calm himself, he muttered with a shaky voice, “White.”

  He watched the same flood take over the darkness, and let out a sigh of relief. Then, almost immediately, questions he had ignored previously resurfaced in his mind.

  ‘Why did I get a second wish? What did the Whisperer mean? What is my Cost? Can I leave now?’

  He tried answering these questions. Something he was usually good at, now appeared like an impossible task. Like an impossibly tall mountain he was unable to climb, all he could do was circle around his destination at the top. But he could climb one of the mountain's hills. He had the answer to one of the questions.

  And that one was the only thing he cared for. As he stared ahead at the void, Elyas muttered, “Michael… Dad’s coming home.” For some reason, he felt especially beaten today. And for the first time in ages, Elyas felt actually sleepy.

  “Gray.” So he changed the void’s color to a soft gray and soon fell asleep.