Destruction fell in love with me

It was a cold, merciless night.  A man stood alone on the cliff’s edge, soaked beneath the unforgiving sky. His eyes reflected nothing—no light, no life. Just endless, heavy darkness.  Lightning cracked above him, scattering pale streaks across his sharp, emotionless face. His lips curled into a bitter smile.  “You might catch a cold, Zarian,” a voice spoke behind him.  Zarian—once called Feiyan—did not turn. His hollow smile deepened, stretched by something older than sorrow.  “You say that like you don’t know I’m the reason it’s raining,” he answered.  The other man approached, standing beside him with quiet familiarity. Sky. One of the few who hadn’t yet learned how to let go.  “I know,” Sky murmured. “But sometimes… I wish I could catch a cold. Just to feel human again.”  Zarian said nothing. His smile dissolved into the night.  Without another word, he turned and began walking away. The rain, as if summoned by his movement, followed with heavier steps.  “Hey! Where are you going?” Sky called out, rushing after him. “Faye’s been searching for you for five days. I’m tired of her storming through my quarters, yelling at me to find you.”  No response. Only the soft splash of Zarian’s boots through water, each step heavier than the last.  “Zarian, please.” Sky’s hand caught his arm, desperation leaking into his voice. “Just come home. Please.”  Zarian stopped. Slowly, his empty gaze shifted toward Sky, now glowing faintly—like embers refusing to die out.  “Fine. But stop being so clingy,” he muttered, the weight in his tone pressing the air itself.  Sky’s lips twitched into a grin. “You missed me.”  “No,” Zarian said coldly. “I missed silence.”  The rain did not stop as they returned.  The castle loomed at the edge of the world, vast and ancient, as though carved from the bones of forgotten gods. Black stone bled silver along its cracks. Spires clawed at the clouds. Its doors opened not like a welcome—but a warning.  Home.  Before they could cross the threshold, a figure descended the grand staircase inside, royal robe flowing like a trailing storm.  “Zarian!”  Queen Faye’s voice cracked through the hall as she rushed forward, fury wrapped in trembling hands. She struck his chest with all the force of a mother’s rage.  “Where have you been?!” she screamed. “Five months, Zarian. You abandoned your kingdom, your people—me.”  But he remained still. No flinch. No word. Not even a blink.  He simply walked past her.  “HEY!! Come back here, you little punk! I’m talking to you!” her voice chased him. “How dare you walk past your mother like that?!”  Her anger shattered, collapsing into broken sobs. Sky approached, voice low, almost pitying.  “My Queen… don’t cry. He came back, didn’t he? That’s his way of saying he remembers.”  But Faye’s answer was only silence, her grief filling the air behind her son’s retreating figure.  Zarian entered his chamber—his sanctuary, his curse.  It was not a room meant for sleep, nor for peace. It was a place where the world’s desires gathered. The wishing room.  At its heart, a waterfall fell in impossible silence, as if time itself hesitated before touching its surface. Beyond it, the murmurs of humanity bled through.  Their wishes. Their greed. Their despair.  “I want power.” “I hope he suffers.” “I wish this world would burn.” “Destruction. Destruction. Destruction.”  Each voice layered upon the next, a constant, suffocating chant.  Zarian stood before it, unmoving. His reflection stared back—just as empty as the day he was named Doom.  But then, something different. A voice. Not louder, not clearer, but… heavier.  A wish that did not beg for wealth or revenge. A wish that sounded like a prayer against existence itself.  “I wish this world would be destroyed.”  The words curled through the air like smoke, seeping into every c***k of the ancient stone.  Zarian’s eyes opened fully, a slow, cold smile forming on his lips.  “That’s a wish I haven’t heard… in a very long time.”  He stepped closer to the waterfall, the haunting words wrapping around him like an old, familiar curse.  The storm outside roared in response.  And somewhere beneath it all, the world seemed to pause, as if bracing itself for what was to come.