Toska

Everything he had experienced repeated itself in his dreams, giving them such a realistic texture that when he woke up, it was as if nothing changed. Because ultimately, nothing had changed and the nightmare concocted by his consciousness was the most real phenomena of Cyberia. He wished to conclude that the rivers of blood flowing through Cyberia merely existed, having no clear point of origin. He gladly accepted the answer as he had more pressing matters to deal with, such as his endless striving for tolerable comfort. Familiar with the type of biome it was, he began to furiously perspire as he struggled to get out of the prison of tree roots.

Unable to fathom how he got tangled in that awful web, he tried everything he could to move a muscle and tear the roots off of him. But they grew perfectly around him in a way that made it impossible for him to move even an inch, forcing him to stare at the grotesque canopy decorated with viscera. He recognized this type of forest as a hivemind of predators that would work together to catch prey, using the flesh other creatures scavenged to hang on the branches and feed the carnivorous trees. It created a vicious circle of life, one Toska knew the details of and dreaded intensely the longer he remained trapped. 

After a few days, he felt the small, metallic insects burrow through flesh and drill through alloys. Their cold little bodies wormed their way through the soft warm layers of his flesh and feast on it, reminding him how it was made for them to enjoy. Being reminded of nature’s cold indifference with every little bite of his bones, they slurped whatever flowed through his veins and licked his nerves like licorice root. Terrible sounds crackled within him as he endlessly stared at the viscera hanging on the branches and the clean silver sky beyond that.

With every atom of his intellect, he became a microcosm for Cyberia, feeling its life flowing through itself, perpetuating an insufferable pain it could never escape no matter how much it tried to eat itself. There was a profound melancholy whose fangs shredded him in his darkest hours, shining again in his endless night. Tears already began to veil his already pixilated vision, displaying a kaleidoscope of colors that drowned him in the foreign and the abstract, the closest hint of home. Beyond the outcry of colors, the torture device of his spirit took the shape of a wolf’s fangs who bit through the roots of the tree. 

Outside of the arborescent prison, he swallowed countless breaths as if he was breathing for the first time again. Whatever creatures that attached themselves to the surface of his body, he flicked away with explosive disgust. At the end of his shock and the wolf’s barking in response to his effervescence, he took a long look at the wolf who by now had stopped barking and excitedly jumped onto him to lick his tear-stained face. An overwhelming wave of relief and joy rushed through him, overriding the pain of the insects devouring his insides. The immediate wave of euphoria continued to hum while its peak faded, allowing his confusion to fill the gaps.

A memory blossomed of a time when he rescued a young wolf in a forest like the one he was in, whose call for help would be silenced by the trees who also consumed the screams of their prey. The wolf before him had the same blue eyes and the same white coat, even carrying the same smile it had when it was a puppy. Just like how the blue of the sky cradled change, so too did the sky blue eyes of the wolf, both aglow with a shared immortality. Assuming the worst, Toska embraced the now large wolf, submerging himself in the fragile miracle of warmth. 

No matter the time of day, he always had the light of the sun beside him in the shape of a hunter. It had been a while since he made an animal companion, losing a piece of himself with every one of their inevitable ends. While he didn’t dare to place a piece of his heart to this one, his heart didn’t give him the choice, for hope was engraved therein. They continued to survive in Cyberia, replenishing themselves in the rivers of blood carved in the land and bodies of the inhabitants. Slowly but surely, all the creatures in his system died out, giving them the mercy he wasn’t able to receive. But his mindset slowly but surely changed as well, having the aching gap in him filled with his companion. Once again, in the blood and moonlight stuck in the wolf’s fangs, he found a beauty in the agony of eternity. 

Unlike Toska who could regenerate without an issue, the white wolf still faced the weaknesses of nature’s design. To his surprise, however, he realized at a much later time that the wolf was also a part of Cyberia’s body. When its cracked fang regrew after a day and became replaced with metal, Toska became both relieved and distraught with the knowledge that his symbol of innocence was tainted by the loathsome laws of the land. This didn’t affect his relationship with the canine in the slightest, for he was overjoyed by the fact that he could spend more time with it and share his days with the dog. Through the white wolf, Toska was able to both express a love to something besides the untouchable abstract and be cleansed of the ever growing cracks forming around his heart.