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He barely had anytime to wander around in the new found lack of senses. His hands were desperately clutching onto Sinclair's.. the only thing that kept him solidly grounded to the floor. He can only image the boy standing next to him-- briefly had they known each other.. but it was a strong bond. Since they first laid eyes on each other. A spark-- a zing. The first itme he ever felt that way about anyone.. and now they were disintegrating. If it weren't for there moments up the stairs Zephyros would have probably allowed himself to disappear quietly.

But he silently thrashed about. His mouth opening and trying to let out a scream of resistance, his hands squeezing painfully and desperately against Sinclair's. Why must they be fragments? Why must this have been all a lie? How is it possible that something that feels so strong could never have been real in the first place.

The man feels his legs disintegrating... and he can only fight with his will. But that was not strong enough, not against the voice. And he knew this. Never could he even figure out who it was..

As he disappears, everyone in thier white uniforms flicker by through his eyes. Even tears begin to fall-- he can feel those at least. One hand reaches up to blindly touch his face, feel the wetness. But then there was a something on his lips-- what was it? W.. wait no, it was Sinclair.. The only possible thing it could be after all..

The words "I love you"? on his lips.. More tears spilled down his face as he tried to say it back. Yet there was no way-- he was gone. gone before him. Why? Why couldn't they have at least disappeared togther?

So many questions continued to riddle his mind before it slowly fades into nothingness. In fact.. he has forgotten everything. Except the feeling of something on his hand. He lifts it up and squeezes it lightly. Why was there this feeling on his hand he wondered. There was something about it..

Even the feeling of Sinclair's touch begins to fade. And then he does as well. He dissolved into the air-- disappearing just as he appeared. With nothing-ness.

Sherry had almost been afraid to move in that darkness. She could feel others from time to time; she knew she wasn’t alone in that room. It still felt like it, though. In the dark silence of her own head, she’d felt cut off from the world, from everything. So she’d waited. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. The Voice perhaps? A magic answer to all the questions she had? That would have been nice. But it was not to be. She had held out hope, though.

Hope that was torn away when the Voice broke the silence and the world began to unravel.

The shaking caused her to step back, even though she had a feeling, she knew she would never be able to escape it. Pieces of what could only be the room began to whirl past her, some bits pelting her. She found it odd that it didn’t hurt. She couldn’t see it, she couldn’t hear it, but she knew it could only be that the room was breaking apart. Even as she realized that, she realized it wasn’t just the room. She was unraveling as well.

It was odd, not unlike the other time she’d died, but so very different. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t scare her…it simply was. She felt it in her feet, the odd absence. Her fingers and hands followed almost immediately. Somewhere, deep inside, Sherry knew that this was it. This time she would not be coming back. And even though there was nothing she could do about it, no way to change it, she found herself a little bit sad. She wasn’t ready.

Memories flashed in her mind. Memories that she’d made in her kingdom of Violet. The waters, the laughter, her King, her key. Other memories followed, memories of her life before she woke in the land of the dead. Wine, family, laughter. Memories that…weren’t real, if the pillar and the Voice were to be believed. None of it had been real, not even her. She was just…a fragment, a creation. The memories that had meant so much were…

Sherry was confused. Just as confused as she had been before entering the tower. Weren’t they real? The memories? Her? Had this all been some farce? Was her entire existence truly based on a fragment, a memory, and the rest filled in with nothing but false images created to give her a semblance of life?

How could that be?

She, she wanted to be real. She didn’t want to be just some fake memory whose time was ending. She didn’t want to be something that never was.

It can’t be true, can it?

She tried, in those last few moments that sped by but seemed to last forever, she tried to cling to those memories. But they faded and fled. It was like trying to catch water in her hands. The memories would not stay. One by one she watched them go, and she forgot them. The harder she tried to hold on, the faster they flowed away. Perhaps then, she was just a fragment. Perhaps somewhere that girl the pillar had showed her was living a full life, a real life. But what did that matter? It wasn’t her.

It was cruel, Sherry decided. Cruel to create something, give it life, and then take it away. She’d wanted to do so much more. She’d wanted to be happy and continue her existence in the Violet kingdom. She’d wanted to fight for her King. She’d wanted to continue. And all of it- her wanting and her fighting- had been for what? In the end, for nothing it seemed.

Is this regret?

She knew she should not regret things over which she had no control. Just as she knew this was the end of things. The sense of creeping absence had grown. It just wasn’t fair. She wanted to be real, she wanted to live, and she wanted…answers. She wanted to know why she’d been “created” and why she had to die. Her end was here and now, yet she didn’t know why she had existed. It seemed, in those moments, a simple but impossible question.

What was the meaning of life?

To live and die?

Hadn’t she…hadn’t she decided to fight for her King? Didn’t that mean she’d been willing to die for the Gatekeeper? Those memories were fading too, but she thought…Yes. Yes she had been willing to die. So perhaps, in a way this was…

It still wasn’t fair. That could be all there was to it. This couldn’t be the end. Only she knew it was. The part of her that was left knew that, accepted it even. Ideally, her last moments in any life would not be filled with confusion and regret, but few things were ideal.

Confused, full of regret and wanting, the remnants of Sherry shattered and came to an end.

Enough.

The word cut through Vanya and stopped her in her tracks. This was it; the end finally. Would she return to her real self or would that part of her always be missing? The ground shook around her and she sunk to the floor to keep her balance. She wasn't sure why she bothered. What was the point in being careful if she was just going to disappear. She might have laughed if it wasn't so terribly pathetic. In the blink of an eye her world had been torn away from her; she'd learnt the truth and had accepted it but it didn't mean she was happy about it. Or maybe she was. It wasn't exactly a good feeling; being a fake. She was sure the real her could do a fine enough job on her own. Her only regret was that she hadn't fought harder. That she hadn't tried to resist the Voice more. That she had let down her King and her Kingdom. The battle was one sided and she had no hope of winning but she wished she'd tried harder.

The pull came as a shock to her and she jumped and tried to crawl away before simply succumbing. Perhaps it would've have been as bad if she could see again; if she could hear the words of those she had existed with. Would they be words of encouragement? Words of regret? It didn't matter. There wasn't anything any of them could do to change this. It was inevitable; it was always inevitable. They were made to be broken; just pawns in the game of a narcissistic. The pulling began and she forgot the names of her comrades. How odd. What Kingdom was she a part of again? She remembered being terrible sad about something; losing someone important but she couldn't remember who. Why was she trying to remember someone? Where was she? Why couldn't she speak, hear or see? What in the world was going on?

The pull continued and she felt herself grow lighter and lighter and getting more and more confused. She couldn't put her finger on anything anymore. Everything was gone from her memory like it had been poured through a sieve. She was suddenly very peaceful. All the worries and responsibilities had been lifted from her shoulders and she smiled for the first time in a long time.

And then she was gone; remembered by none but the one who created and erased her.

The Voice shattered her world.

After so much silence, so much deprivation, it was impossible to describe, impossible to prepare for; her world had shrunk to touch and faint scent alone, to subtleties. The Voice was like a hammer, a wall, a wave. The first cracks formed before the Voice had even finished speaking.

The first thing to vanish was the pain in her torn thumb; she sighed in relief, though she did not hear it. Everything had long since gone dark - instead, everything went soft, distant and filmy as her fingertips dissolved, as her last remaining senses thinned away to nothing. She felt no sadness, no regret. Only more relief. Every moment since her 'rebirth' had been a cold, painful ache in her gut, her head filled with lies that she'd once called memories. Oblivion was a gift, and with the last vestiges of her Self she was grateful to it.

Not grateful to the Voice, though. Grateful to her Emperor. Even in memory - in lies - he had never done her ill. He had never led them astray. It was all the Voice. As she evaporated into Silver, she was still Gold...

Thank you... my King...

And then there was nothing left.

Somewhere else...

Malodore had never entered the Tower. Oh, it had been drawn there, with all the rest, but it had fetched up against a wall, turned away by the demands for sacrifice. Sacrifice? Feh. It had already had everything taken from it. What it still had, it would keep, if it had to cut itself to ribbons to do it.

It watched those who entered and mocked them silently, glaring at them from behind its silvered lenses. Sciocchi dannati, tutti. Where were they going? What goals could possibly remain, when everything was false?

It sat there and hated with every fiber of its being. Hated the King, hated the Voice, hated everything; it imagined them ascending, voiceless. Perhaps their tongues would rot in their mouths. Perhaps they would be sliced off as they entered, and they would stagger about choking on their own blood. It envisioned a thousand possibilities for torment and wished them on every person that passed. It had been used, and it would not be used again. Let the fools go. It would remain.

It was one of the only ones with a voice left, when the time came.

It, nearly alone among all others, saw the way its fingertips began to shred, and a part of it was profoundly disappointed to see them evaporate into a silver mist rather than fragments of flesh and blood. How utterly boring. It didn't even hurt...

It didn't hurt. The wrongness smote it to its bones, and hatred gave way to panic.

"Perché non fa male?" it snarled at its own dissolving hands. Desperately, it tried to scratch at itself with its fingernails, to draw out some blood, some pain, but they had already left it. In growing panic, it bit at its forearm, but found only something soft and misty and impossible to chew. No blessed pain, no reminder of life's presence flowered as its teeth harmlessly passed through its fading flesh.

It shrieked aloud, and bit its tongue as hard as it could.

The stab of pain jolted through it, and for an instant it thrilled to the feel of coppery, hot blood in its mouth - and yet that, too, was lost to it as everything went soft and milky. It was not flesh. It had never been flesh. Of all the things it had ever known, she alone had been real. That woman it had killed.

At least it had that. The one real thing it had ever done.

It was cold solace as it dissolved into nothing, bereft of everything.

Zel first realized something was wrong when the feeling of the woman he loved vanished from his lap. The words of the voice had... boded ill but... He didn't really how bad it was until things stopped generating sensations. It was subtle at first, but slowly, things just stopped giving him sensations.

No...No...Nononononono...

They were supposed to live forever... They were supposed to have all the time in the world - to win - to fight and defeat the Voice once and for all.

This was not how it should end... He couldn't even whimper, or reach out and hold her closer to him, because he no longer hand fingers to grasp or arms to hold, or a lap for her to sit in.

He was fading into nothing and there was nothing he could do.

He had no mouth, but he had to scream...

Even as his memories unwound - even as he forgot everything he ever was one feeling remained.

Vengeance.

His last whole thought before it all splintered away - was that someone avenge this travesty.

And then, there was nothing...

Serafina had managed to make it to the top of the tower.

Finally, at long last, she conquered a great evil--the tower. She had made it up to the three hundredth step and opened the door into total blindness, becoming, well... totally blind. It made it difficult for the poor woman to find her way anywhere, especially without the nearby support of The Family, and she admittedly spent most of her time fumbling around blindly, not even managing to get to the throne, but in some ways, it didn't really matter, did it?

No, it didn't.

Serafina had found her meaning to her life. She really, truly had. It may have been a life that had never existed, evident by the sensation of void that was beginning to overcome her very being, but she had what she called a family. They were those of her Blue Kingdom, the place she truly called her home. That was the place where she truly had led people, and people cared for the words she said, hanging on the laws she made and the promises she gave to them.

In the end, what mattered was her Kingdom, wasn't it? Her Kingdom was what she had lived for, channeling herself in a Senator role while boosting the status of The Family. What was any of that about pillars, about not ever being alive? She had always been alive. Her Family was what made her alive. Her Family was what she loved, and what had taught her how to care again, even to care about how she felt herself ... disappearing.

Did any of that matter, in the end? She didn't even exist. Her friends didn't exist. The Family didn't exist. The Kingdom didn't exist. Pillars and truth and anything ... none of that really existed. It was all a joke, an elaborate ... joke.

The world had a funny way of showing that, didn't it? Dissembling her, piece by piece, unraveling her along with the location she once stood in, as she evaporated into the abyss of some location she would never truly understand the coordinates of.

Where even was she? Where were they all? What had happened, and what had really caused this? Was it pride, or was it insanity? Was it love, or was it war? Was it a need to be in control or a feeling of not enough control? Was there truly a big game in play here, or was this just some kind of laughing manner? The Voice seemed more ridiculous more and more time went on...

Did she even care about The Voice? The only thing that even mattered was her Family, and even then...

It was over. All of it was ... over.

And so was she.