Joy had killed a man.

  Joy had killed Ian.

  Joy’s mind kept being pulled back to that fact as he dragged his two friends out of Vena Cava. After their disastrous fight against Bloody Ian, Lillian and Theo had been injured. Theo had taken a blade directly to the eyes, and Lillian had been cut deeply and was bleeding profusely despite the quick bandages that Joy had applied to her.

  Joy had fashioned a sled to drag his friends through the streets of the city and away from whatever grand machinations the prince had set into motion.

  The repetitive motions of step drag, step drag helped keep Joy’s mind off the fact that he had just killed someone he had known for a year.

  Ian was an annoying dickhead to Joy. Ian was so caught up in his own personal suffering to the point he barely even noticed the world around him. Yet, his presence would never darken another room again. His endless pessimism would never ruin the vibe at a party ever again. His skill with the sword would never shine in the light of the morning again.

  Joy had seen people die and had even been a part of extenuating circumstances that led to the deaths of others. But he had never felt the blood cover his arms before. Joy’s arms were dyed red from Ian’s blood, occasional drips of blood fell from the sleeves of his shirt as he continued with his step drag motions.

  There was something visceral about having sent someone to Death. But it was good that Joy had gotten his hands dirty. The worst thing a person can do is kill someone without the decency of getting their hands dirty.

  Truly the end of humanity came the first time a person realized they could throw rocks to kill people instead of stabbing them like the gods intended.

  A sharp crack echoed down the street and Joy saw the ground behind him open like a gaping maw. A great chasm was forming in the center of Vena Cava and Joy was not planning on being there when it all came crashing down.

  “Help me! Please!” Joy yelled at the fleeing citizens of this great city. But they were all too caught up in their own fleeing. There wasn’t enough time for anyone to make it out, so why waste their precious time trying to help their fellow man?

  Joy couldn’t do anything except continue with his endless motions. Step drag. Step drag. Step drag.

  A scream caught Joy’s attention, and he watched as a score of floating mouths descended on a woman a few blocks behind him. They tore into her like vultures ripping at a carcass.

  That’s not good.

  But Joy couldn’t save her. What could he really do? Drop his two friends to be eaten by the mouths to try and save someone he didn’t know? How could he have even tried.

  She was dead before I even saw her. Joy repeated it to himself as he kept dragging himself away, little by little.

  Joy wasn’t moving fast enough. The mouths were eating the entire city, and he had only survived them and the fissure due to pure luck. He had nowhere to run, since he wouldn’t abandon his friends. All he could do was keep walking away, hoping nothing would try to take a bite out of him.

  Through the fog of Joy’s mind, he heard a faint ringing sound. The sound of a coin being flipped into the air. A few blocks ahead of him, Joy saw a man flipping a coin staring out at the apocalyptic city.

  He was a small man, barely older than a child and he was vaguely familiar. But none of that truly registered in Joy’s mind behind the fog that he had placed there to protect himself.

  The coin flipped up in the air one final time and landed on the ground with a faint dinging sound. The man didn’t look at the result, he just started walking towards Joy.

  As he arrived next to Joy, he grabbed one of the makeshift sleds that Joy had hastily built to carry his two friends around and started helping Joy drag it.

  There was an unhealthy silence in the air around the two men. Neither wanted to break it, yet everything in their souls forced them to.

  “Why did you help me?” Joy asked first.

  “Because I think that I needed to do some good in this world after I put so much bad into it.” The man didn’t look at Joy, he was scared. “My gift is that I am really lucky. Like insanely lucky.” The man stuttered out his words. “And I could feel my luck in my soul tell me to swing that scepter. But I know that action caused this devastation.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  All the words made no sense to Joy, but the core of them seemed to resonate with something in him.

  “Life is about actions. Some are good, some are bad, some are somewhere in the middle. I like to believe my life is, in essence, a series of actions where the net good coming out of them outweighs the net bad.”

  The man walking with Joy laughed a little at that. “I think the net bad of my life just got a whole lot lower from this. How many hundreds, no, thousands are dead now because of that chasm?”

  The heavy silence consumed the two of them again as they kept walking and dragging the two sleds.

  Joy noticed that none of the mouths were even coming close to them and that the chasm was not affecting the streets they were walking through. It was like a halo of safety surrounding them.

  People noticed. A few joined their procession at first, almost without thinking. They just saw that the path following those two men seemed to be clear. So, they followed unconsciously.

  Then more people started noticing that a group of people was passing through the city untouched, and they joined to feel the safety of numbers. Soon, a pilgrimage of farmers, shop owners, and regular folk were following the two men dragging the sleds.

  Joy felt the silence. It was a heavy blanket that engulfed the two people as they walked, so he prepared his sharpest metaphorical blade to cut into it.

  “But you’re saving these people.” Joy let it sit in the air, the power of words was held by the person hearing them, not the person saying them.

  “Saving them from something I made happen.” Dejected and unwilling to leave his sorrow, the boy continued dragging.

  "Saving them nonetheless.” Joy spoke softly and the boy didn’t hear. And maybe that was the point.

  Joy didn’t realize when they had hit the edge of the city. The pilgrimage must have passed through the outer circles of Vena Cava, and he didn’t even realize it. He was too focused on his step-drag motion.

  With a sigh, Joy collapsed to the ground. He was spent, and he lay in the soft grass, exulting in the freedom of not having to move anymore.

  The procession of regular folks started milling about. The ones who had thought of bringing their valuables with them started unpacking. The unlucky few who had brought nothing but the clothing on their backs started scavenging or begging for help from their fellow man.

  A grain of hope started to fill the small clearing as people started making life better. Rather than worrying about the future or the past, the entire group started fixing the present.

  The beggars were told quietly that there was no need to beg here, what was had would be shared. There were some grumbles, but they were quiet for some unknowable reason.

  There was a decided lack of food in the camp. Joy heard grumbling stomachs from his position on the ground, but the edges of Vena Cava seemed to be in good condition, so maybe a few people could go on expeditions into the city to scavenge for some food. Maybe they could move back into the city tomorrow.

  Not Joy though. He had killed a man. How could he ever go back? Why would he ever want to go back? He just needed to take his friends and go somewhere safe and far away from here and the prince.

  The day turned into night as fires were set up and impromptu shelter was erected. No one disturbed Joy other than the man who had helped him drag Lillian and Theo. The man simply sat down near Joy in the grassy spot he had lain down in.

  Joy couldn’t sleep. All around him were the cries of nightmares. The people near the fires huddled close for extra warmth, despite the mugginess of the air. It wasn’t the physical warmth they sought, but something deeper.

  The children in the tents screamed for lost mothers, fathers, brothers, and sisters – all the souls that had been wiped out in this catastrophe were mourned in the moonlight.

  Finally, Joy heard the sniffles of a boy who had suddenly been forced to be a man that was sitting beside him.

  Joy’s muscles cried for rest, but he refused them. Joy’s mind cried for nothingness, be he refused them. Joy’s soul cried for a moment of peace, but he refused it.

  Into the blackness, Joy spoke, “anybody want to play a card game?”

  Angry glares were shot at Joy, and he felt a physical shiver shake his spine. But he kept his resolve. It didn’t matter what they thought, this was important.

  One sniffling child wiped the snot away from her nose. Her eyes were red and torn, the red of true sorrow, not just a temper tantrum. She waddled up to Joy, she could barely be older than six, and she sat down to play cards.

  With the first one sitting down, a dam broke. Children from all around their camp came to play with Joy. They brought their blankets, their toys, and their tears. But they left their sorrow behind for one brief moment of light.

  Silent tears dripped off Joy’s face as he played Old Maid with the children.

  He didn’t win a single time. But he didn’t need to win; he didn’t want to win.

  What are an adult’s tears to a child’s smile?

  The group played until the campfires grew dim. The children slowly nodded off to sleep in their circle, not even bothering to get up from their seated position. Smiles held onto the faces of a few as they went into the land of Dream. Hopefully, they could leave the nightmares in the land of the living for a while.

  Joy was about to go to sleep himself when he heard a shuffling noise coming from the edge of the city.

  A procession of monks was exiting the city in a line. Each one held baskets of fruit and jugs of water as they approached the camp site.

  No one got up to approach the monks. There was a friendly atmosphere of camaraderie in the camp between those who had survived this disaster together, but it did not extend to these newcomers. The monks found themselves given the cold shoulder by this campsite.

  Upon reaching the center of the camp one of the monks pronounces, “this food is gifted upon you by King David. He also recommends that refugees reenter the city with us. We have found proper shelter and have supplies of food and water for you. Please, let us help you.”

  The rest of the words slipped around Joy’s consciousness as he heard the words ‘King David.’ His chest tightened and he started to hyper ventilate. Curious eyes turned towards him, but Joy disguised himself by doubling over and coughing. Terror raced through his system and Joy knew one thing for a fact.

  He had to get away.