Chapter 762 - Depression

“Are you capable of dying?” Zeke asked, staring at the giant oak tree in front of his manor.  He struggled to see past the threads, at the beauty of its perfection.  So it had been since he’d killed Shar Maelaine what felt like a lifetime ago.  In reality, only a few years had passed, and those simultaneously seemed like little more than the blink of an eye.

Of late, his perception of time had become unreliable.  A century didn’t feel so different from a minute.  The only difference was the changing scenery.  The deaths of people he recognized.  Soon, he knew, he would lose all connection with the world.  Talia would be gone.  So too would Pudge die.  Everyone he truly knew would fall away, leaving him to look at a world he no longer recognized.

Such was the curse of longevity.

As far as he knew, he couldn’t die.  Not anymore.  Even when Shar Maelaine had bathed him in fire hot enough to burn planets to ash, he had survived.  And he didn’t think time would be any more successful in ending his life.

The only person he knew who might understand his plight was Eveline.  After all, she was a mind spirit.  She had no physical body.  As far as he knew, she couldn’t be killed.  Not by time, at least.

Which was what had prompted the question.

Sensing his mood, Eveline had been his constant companion of late.  She could feel his depression.  The existential dread that hung from his shoulders like a well-worn cloak.  Someday, perhaps soon, he would embark on his final adventure.  He would confront the Creator and attempt to repair the Framework that had continued to unravel.  Or perhaps he would slay the adversary, if such a thing was possible.

The reality was that Zeke had no idea what to expect and no one in his life who could understand the burden he’d taken upon his shoulders.  Soon enough, everyone he cared about would be dead. 

After a few minutes, Eveline finally answered, “I don’t know.  I can be destroyed, but I sense that’s not what you’re talking about.”

“It’s not,” Zeke admitted.

“You want to know if I can die from old age.”

Zeke nodded. 

“I’m not sure.  I don’t think so,” she answered.  “Why?”

“I think you know why.”

“You don’t want to be alone.”

“Who does?”

Indeed, there were people out there who preferred solitude, but to Zeke that always seemed to come with a caveat.  It was easy to endure loneliness when it was a choice.  When it was forced upon you, it was something else altogether.  And for all that Zeke was content with solitude, he could scarcely imagine spending eternity without company. 

What was worse was seeing a parade of friends, family, and acquaintances come and go.  Merely thinking about that was almost enough to send him down a dark road that could only result in the destruction of his own soul thread.

But then again, Zeke wasn’t even certain if that would work. 

To say that he’d reached a low point would have been an understatement.  Before, he’d had goals in front of him.  People to fight.  But now that they were all dead, he only had the existential threat of the end of reality to keep him moving. 

And he wasn’t sure if it was enough. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eveline asked. 

“Talk about what?”

“I don’t need to be in your head to know what you’re thinking, Ezekiel,” she responded, flickering beside him.  She was just a ball of light, but he’d learned to read her emotions well enough.  It wasn’t like looking at someone’s facial expressions, but he made do.  “I know depression when I see it.”

“I’m not depressed,” Zeke lied.  “I’m just…I don’t know.  Maybe it’s an adrenaline crash.”

“You’ve been sitting here for almost a decade.”

“Has it been that long?” he asked, a little surprised.  But at the same time, he knew she was right.  He hadn’t been counting the days, but he had seen them pass him by.  He shook his head.  Then, he admitted, “I’m afraid that I’m losing touch with who I am, with what I’m supposed to be.”

“And what is that?”

“I don’t know anymore.  The days when I worried about human things…they just seem so far away,” he told her.  “You know, I don’t even remember the last time I ate.  That’s not normal, right?  I don’t sleep, either.”

“You’re not human, Ezekiel.”

“That’s obvious.”

“But you haven’t accept it, have you?  I went through something similar, you know.”

“You had the advantage of being held captive, though.  You didn’t have a choice,” Zeke said. 

“Do you think that made it easier?  I spent…I don’t know how long attached to that chain,” she said.  “Having my energy drained, day by day.  Until you freed me.  By that point, I was…I wasn’t me.  I had lost touch with everything that I once was.  It wasn’t the first time, either.  When I died and came back as a demon, I was forced to acclimate to an entirely new existence.”

“How did you do it?” he asked. 

“I’m not entirely sure,” Eveline admitted.  “Those first few years are blurry.  Demons don’t come back with any sense of sapience.  We’re creatures of pure extinct, most of it murderous.  But slowly, I regained my identity, only to discover that I was no long the person I remembered. 

“It was difficult.  I coped by embracing the demon.  That comforted me for a while.”

“Until?”

“Until I was captured, enslaved, and used as a mana battery,” she stated.  “And then some barbaric idiot with a club came and rescued me.  You know the rest.”

Zeke didn’t respond.  Instead, he continued to stare ahead.  The tree wasn’t real.  Not even in the sense that anything else in his reality was real.  Instead, it was a construct created by the Crimson Tower.  A collection of threads, the same as anything else.  But instead of coming together to create a tree, they created a facsimile of a tree.  Like a living sculpture.

Zeke wasn’t certain how he knew that.  Or what it meant.  But he could tell the difference all the same.  By comparison, the budding universe on the floor formerly known as the Artisan’s Terrace was genuine. 

The difference between the two representations of threads was striking.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel about that,” Zeke admitted.

“I don’t either.”

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me,” he complained.

Eveline flickered a bit, then said, “I don’t think I’m qualified to help you with anything, Ezekiel.  You’re a proto-god who is contemplating the loss of everything connecting you to mortality.  Meanwhile, you know that reality is unraveling, but you’re not certain what to do about it.  I’m fairly certain that no one can tell you how to feel about any of that.  Not even me.”

“I guess I just need to figure it out for myself.”

“Not alone.  I’m not going anywhere,” she said.  “Sure, I’m split between about seven-thousand forms right now, but part of me isn’t going anywhere.”

“So glad I could merit a thousandth of your attention.”

“Less.”

“What?”

“I’m split into seven thousand pieces.  So, you’re worth one-in-seven-thousand.”

“That’s not better,” Zeke groaned. 

She flickered again.  “It wasn’t supposed to be better.  Just more accurate,” Eveline said. 

Zeke chuckled.  It was a tiny expression of laughter, and yet, it was freeing in a way he hadn’t felt in longer than he could remember.  He didn’t feel better.  Not precisely.  He didn’t think it worked that way.  If someone could simply make a joke and cure depression, it wouldn’t be nearly as impactful.  But while it didn’t make him feel better, it certainly didn’t make him feel worse.  And that was progress. 

It was odd, knowing that he could endure thousands of years of physical torment, only to be forced into inaction by something as simple as his state of mind.  Depression truly was an insidious emotion. 

He finally pushed himself to his feet, and a cascade of dust scattered from his shoulders.  Reaching up to his jaw, he found years’ worth of beard growth.  His hair had grown well past his shoulders. 

And he was fairly certain he stank.

“You do.”

“What?” Zeke asked.

“Stink.  You do stink.”

“How would you know? You don’t have a nose,” he pointed out.  “In fact, you don’t have a body at all.  I don’t think you even have normal senses.”

“That’s how much you stink.  I don’t need a nose to know how you smell.”

“Ouch.”

Zeke shook his head, but he didn’t respond.  Instead, he went into the manor, where he spent the next hour cleansing himself of the consequences of spending years in idle isolation.  He could have done so by manipulating the threads.  It would have been quicker that way.  However, he chose to tackle the task the old fashioned way. 

Eventually, he emerged, feeling a little better about his prospects.  What’s more, he finally knew how he was meant to proceed. 

The first step was to gauge his advancement.  As expected, killing Shar Maelaine had resulted in a significant influx of power.  He had no idea how much it had affected his overall might, but he expected it to be quite a difference.  And that, in turn, should translate into a more advanced ability to manipulate the threads.

He’d already noticed that he could perceive the negative threads more clearly.  He still couldn’t see them, but his feel for how everything fit together had progressed significantly. 

But once he’d had a chance to find his limits, he needed practice.  Lots and lots of practice.  And now that there were no other greater gods to challenge him, he could do so without fear of distraction.

After that, he would fulfil his purpose. 

Hopefully.

There was every chance that he would fail.  The Creator was still, after all, the Creator.  And the Framework was far beyond Zeke’s understanding.  Following from that, the adversary was similarly too powerful for him to combat.  But Zeke felt sure that trying was the key to figuring everything out. 

Establishing a plan of action made him feel a lot better.  Not necessarily about the future.  That still looked bleak, and nothing was going to change that.  But knowing his next few steps gave Zeke the impression that he was at least nominally in control.  And that went a long way toward banishing the existential apathy that had dogged his mind ever since defeating Shar Maelaine. 

Thus armed, Zeke headed to the teleporter leading down to the Entry Hall.  As he traversed that space, he couldn’t help but notice that his passage drew quite a lot of attention.  Eveline assured him that it was normal.  After all, it wasn’t every day that people saw their god walking among them.

That wasn’t the comforting reassurance she clearly expected it to be.

So, Zeke hurried through the Entry Hall and to the gate leading to the Ways.  Once he’d passed through, he let himself relax, but that only lasted a moment before he noticed something truly troubling.

The Ways were falling apart.

Not quickly.  And they remained sturdy enough.  But Zeke could feel that the shield holding the abyss at bay had weakened considerably.  What’s more, the bridge-like Ways themselves had deteriorated to a significant degree.

Seeing that, Zeke didn’t hesitate to hurry forward until he reached the Nexus nearly a day later.  There, the conditions were even worse, with much of the city having been deserted.  Hole sections had fallen aside. 

Still, it wasn’t until he reached the Waymaster’s dome that he realized the problem. 

Shar Maelaine had referred to the creature as her pet, implying that she’d kept it under control.  But now that she was dead, it had clearly lost its purpose.  He stepped inside, ready to address the issue.  What he saw soon after was enough to elicit a gasp, though.