And just like death every path of planned futures faded until empty black was every way forward.
When she placed a foot, pounding and quiet, the path quaked ripples toward the void.
So close, the chilling cut where everything was but now nothing remains.
Dreams cleaved clean, as solid on this side as she.
Nothing in the black.
She hurled a scream, scalding and horse, pushing forward shoulders and lungs.
A wail unwilling to believe was swallowed by silence.
The erring path was ended.