The Discipline of Sorrow —

Beyond the Glass, hunger became my constant companion.

Hours easily became days, and the days stretched even further to months I could never recall.

The human body shouldn't last this long. But Chronovore, my companion, would not let me rest.

Its hunger had merged with mine for vengeance.

This hunger...

It was not the kind that twists the stomach, but the kind that settles deeper—far behind the ribs, behind my thoughts.

The worst part was that I did not know how to satisfy Chronovore.

At times, I would give in to it, but no matter what I ate—if I ever ate—Chronovore never let me find rest in rest.

.....

Soren paused here. If others read this book, they would not understand this part, but he did. After all, Death was not rest for his Shade.

He continued reading.

.....

Even though I later came to discover that food in our world is poison here, and poison here is food.

Still, I was never full.

And it... was never full.

It fed on more than emotion or intent and drove me mad several times.

.....

Another feeling Soren could relate to.

.....

Every step forward cost me something I could not name.

Then again, it was not as if we were without direction.

That was when I found the water.

It spread across the land like a wound that wouldn't heal.

Perfectly still.

And Dark.

The wind tore at the plains, yet the surface did not move.

No reflection stared back at me. I knew then that this was not water meant for drinking.

It was water that... remembered.

At its centre stood the Soul that owned it.

Its body was shaped from flowing liquid, half-formed, and the other half, as if the world had abandoned the task midway.

From the waist down, it dissolved into the lake itself.

Above, a robed silhouette emerged.

Its head was bowed but crowned with droplets that hovered and refused to fall.

Where a face should have been, there was only... depth. Currents folding inward, endlessly.

"You cannot cross," it said.

The lake spoke with its voice and language. But somehow, I understood.

I stopped at the shore.

From meeting my shade, I had learned not to argue with forces older than intent.

"I am hunting an Eldritch," I told it. "One that devoured my family."

The water tightened, as though the lake itself were holding its breath.

"I know."

It replied simply.

Then it tilted its head to the side, "I can help you." It added.

I grew suspicious.

Wouldn't you?

Even in my world, helping hands usually had the thorns of motive hiding beneath the palm.

Then it came.

"If I give direction, what will you offer?" the Soul asked.

At least it was being honest.

I almost laughed. "I have nothing left."

The surface rippled once as if it regretted the fact that I had already bound with a soul.

It had no eyes, but I could have sworn it was observing me... searching.

"You still carry... weight." It replied. "A very wealthy human you are."

I could have sworn I heard it swallow.

Ironically, I knew what it meant the moment it said it.

How could I not?

I had long heard from the mainland that these things enjoyed the taste of the negative emotions we carry.

And right now, with my home gone, I was like a buffet food stamp, waiting to be cashed.

"To cross," the Soul said, lifting an arm formed of flowing water, "you must surrender something that binds you to what was. I don't want flesh nor blood. I want a... truth."

My chest tightened.

"What truth?"

"How about this? Give me..." It acted as if it licked its fingers, "...The name of your wife."

Even the hunger inside me recoiled.

Such audacity.

Was I a fool?

No.

This soul could not feed from me directly. So it wanted to steal the hold to the deepest emotions I had.

It wanted my anchor.

"My purpose is vengeance," I said, gritting my teeth. "Her name... is a part of it."

The lake darkened.

"Then you mistake obsession for duty," the Soul replied.

And then it leaned in, "Human... come on. We both know that the sweetness of vengeance does not require remembrance. Only direction."

I clenched my fists. I might have known the soul was right.

But our memories together.

That's all I had. They held me tight on this path I had unknowingly chosen.

I had nothing left.

"What remains of me if I let it go?" I asked more of myself than of it.

But it still replied.

"What remains is what was always yours... Nothing."

The water parted.

Not completely—only a narrow path opened to let me... observe.

At the other side, I could see it. The Eldritch that hunted my home. The one that took my Elena, my boys.

A leap, and I would be there. A leap, and I would meet it face to face and gut it like it did my beloved.

My anger grew.

The Soul seemed to enjoy my reaction like a meal warming in the oven at dinnertime.

I stood there for a long time. Contemplating this decision.

The desire to hurt it as it did me grew even sharper now.

I took a purposeful step. The Soul's surface rippled with anticipation.

But I stopped.

I remembered her words.

Words she read aloud from that journal every night.

Nothing good is ever purchased by surrender.

For what belongs to the soul cannot be spent like coin.

Understand that when a man agrees to trade what he considers sacred, he has already lost what he sought to protect...

I froze.

"No," I replied.

Its surface rippled again, but this time in its growing annoyance.

"You do not suffer because the world is cruel, human," it said as the water gathered around it. "You suffer because you demand it preserves what was never meant to remain.

If you won't give it. Then I'll take it by force."

I could tell violence was coming.

But what this Soul did not know was that Chronovore had been licking its lips in vile anticipation...

...

At such a time, Soren felt a blade at his neck.

~Slash

Blood pooled, dyeing his mattress.

[You died]

.....

~Buzz

"Wake up, you lowlifes." A guard barked from outside. "There is no break today. You maggots have work to do in the glass."

Soren's eyes opened. He turned to his side. Cynthia was sleeping peacefully on her bed.

No bruises and no cuts.

The day had started again.

Shit! I was assassinated... in prison?

(Author's note: for chapters carrying the Discipline of Sorrow, I'll show indications with [DOS]. I hope this stoic wisdom helps someone struggling out there.)

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