Once again, Cassian felt a profound shift in his consciousness as the void began to reject his presence. Invisible strings connected to his very soul, forcing him out. It didn't feel like a hostile action by whatever force controlled the space- but it certainly wasn't a pleasant experience either.
As his body became one with his brain again and the omniscience of the control seat returned, the soul-crushing exhaustion laid upon him began to dissipate.
Was that even a dream? Am I still dreaming?
It all felt too real. The pain felt upon gazing at the distortions of space- the debilitating weariness felt as the pathway's minute luminance grew slowly brighter, going from a flicker to a roaring flame. The vacant void felt so natural to him… as a matter of fact, he was almost certain it wasn't a dream.
But then what the hell was it?
Not even mentioning the frigid voice that retired him entirely from the empty void. Was that the space itself talking to him? Or was there something else watching him from within its dark corners?
So many questions, so few answers.
However, what Cassian was able to be certain of was that the ornate mark along his arm must have been intimately involved. From the pathway within the void sharing that same latent azure glow, to the crippling enervation that seemed to parallel its radience.
Too many hints had been dropped, and he wasn't stupid.
Well, maybe he was- he walked into this entire mess voluntarily after all.
*drip*
Sound had started to register within his ears, proving his return to consciousness was imminent. He tuned into this convalescing sense with the intention to gain whatever information he could from the surroundings.
Wherever he had been taken to proved to be nearly silent, bar the persistent sound of water droplets descending upon the floor to his left. A persistent, repetitive sound that could easily drive someone insane. Nevertheless, the fact that the sound's reflection audibly bounced off multiple walls in a short time told him it was a cramped room- likely a cell.
"What are you, a marionette with its strings cut? I know you've awakened- quit pretendin."
A bitter voice that was devoid of human intonation rang out from directly in front of him. It was unmistakably Dawn's.
Whatever mask of friendliness he wore had long since slipped off.
"Open your eyes kid."
Cassian braced himself for the familiar alien pressure forcing him to abide by the man's words.
But nothing happened.
A long silence occupied the room. Cassian took this moment to connect the dots that were clearly laid out before him. Whatever had occurred within that void had eliminated Dawn's monopoly over his mind.
A faint smirk creeping onto his face, he opened his eyes to face the man.
Cassian's guess about the room he was in wasn't far off. Surrounding him was a small stone prison cell akin to the length of a car. As he pulled himself up from a slumped position a symphony of chains rang out. All attached to the mark on his arm- blocking his view of the ornate rune inscribed beneath.
"So nice of you to join us. Voluntarily as well."
Practically spitting the last three words, the already frigid voice had become more oppressive and alien. If before it fell within the uncanny valley, now it was just not human at all.
Finally glancing up at the man, Cassian's brain short-circuited.
Dawn was straddling a simple metal chair that was facing away from him. He leaned over its top rail, supporting his head with his pale alabaster hands. Or at least, what should have been his head. Where before there sat a dogged face of a young man who had risen quickly into power, there now sat… nothing.
Nothing at all.
It was as if he were looking at an incomplete canvas where the artist had neglected to fill in the details.
"What are you?"
Dawn, if that was even his actual name, tilted his head at the question.
"The same as you kid. Damn Cursed"
Reaching towards his neck, his would-be captor pulled down the neck of his shirt- revealing clearly the angry purple brand burned into his skin. The symbol differed greatly from the mark Cassian bore. Where his was an ouroboros of cascading curves infinitely bending in on each other, Dawn's resembled a tangled array of thin strings that formed a faint mimicry of a person's face.
"I did say I'd tell you what I know, and I will. It's better for all of us."
He hesitated briefly before he continued.
"Tell me, do you know the story of Icarus?"
"No, should I?"
"Not really, it's from before the eternity war. But allow me to use it to convey what I need to say." Tapping on the metal chair, he continued, "Many lifetimes ago, there was a paranoid king- and a master craftsman. One day, the king asked the craftsman to construct a gargantuan labyrinth on an isolated island in order to contain a particular monster. The artisan agreed, doing the king's bidding. Thus, the monster became trapped".
He glanced upwards, as if recalling the rest of the story.
"However, it didn't last forever. Due to a chain of transpiring events, the monster was killed- and the perpetrator escaped the endless labyrinth.
Naturally, the king was furious. Giving in to his unbridled paranoia, both the artisan and his son were imprisoned within the labyrinth. The very people who built the cell walls became the prisoners who dwelled within them."
"The artisan, being a genius craftsman, managed to create two pairs of magnificent wings to escape the island. One for him - and one for his son Icarus. He warned the boy to follow him closely as they glided through the air. But Icarus, drunk on the new sensation of flight, disobeyed him. He flew higher and higher until he eventually sat right under the enchanting rays of the sun itself. The freedom of soaring through the air clouded the fact that his wings were falling apart around him. Eventually, greed took its toll. The son lost control of the wings, fell into the ocean below, and drowned."
Dawn sighed slightly, as if this ancient story depressed him.
"Quite the abrupt ending."
"Yes, it is. But the point of all this is that I, and now you, are Icarus."
Cassian took a moment to internalize the story. Voicing his conclusion.
"Are you saying that this… 'brand' as you called it is equivalent to a pair of wings?"
Dawn let out a hollow laugh devoid of all soul. As he did, the purple luminescence on his neck pulsated.
"Not quite. In this story, the mark is equivalent to the wings, yes, but it is also both the sun that burns you and the ocean that swallows you. It is the island you are running from and the salvation you are running towards. It is the labyrinth that you built up, while simultaneously being the king that put you there."
"It is powerful, yes. But it's not goddamn benevolent. If there's anything you take away from this conversation as the truth, please let it be it this."
Dawn once again slouched into his hands. The empty canvas he called a face, gazing straight towards him.
"As for how you use the mark, nobody really knows. The few people who have walked this road have all had a very different experience. There's not much data to go off of."
"Most of the unlucky bastards already flew too close to the sun. It's why you're in here actually"