Weakness.
August 4, 2024 at 12:01 PM
“Kill me," he whispers, his voice weak as cracked ice. “No,” the healer replies, his face, usually bright and cheerful, is now sad. “I can't. I'm a doctor, not an executioner. My job is to alleviate suffering, not end it.”And the pain remains. She devours him, slowly, painfully, like a flame that smoulders in the ashes. Two roads are visible in his eyes, full of despair. One into eternal darkness, the other into endless torment. He chooses eternal darkness.