Chapter 125: Chapter 15: what the people saw

Umbra's eyes opened once more, but this time, there was no wonder, no sense of discovery. He was empty. Blank. His soul numb, a hollow shell left to wander an endless world with no meaning. Every life given him was another chapter of pain, an eternal loop of his existence that he wished to end. Yet it never did.

With every waking, with every breath, he felt the weight of the inevitable. It was when he reached the age of fifteen in each life that the cycle began afresh-repetitive, unchanging, some kind of cruel twist of fate. He had come to dread his birthdays. They weren't times of celebration but markers of how the world would begin to close in on him once more. He could not hide; he could not run from the torment.

And thus, he took his own life. Again and again.