The undead had left behind utter destruction, decaying bodies, mud, houses long burned down. But amongst the darkness, was a sprout, a little green, a little flower in the darkness, growing even after the storm had passed through. Zeeke watched over the little flower, he didn't pluck it. He just observed.

Admiring how nature found its way even in darkness in decay. Maybe that is why he was still in this world. Because he hadn't lost hope in life, in goodness in this world. Afterall he had given his life for people he didn't know simply because it was a good action. Because people were at the risk of death, because they had done nothing wrong. Because they didn't deserve dying in the cruel ways Seth orchestrated.

Zeeke couldn't possibly hate Seth, even now he was still his brother, even after everything, all the cruelty, all the destruction, all the pain and destruction he had caused. He couldn't hate him, not even if he tried. But he grew tired, even he got miserable. Because what could he do now? People feared him, he did feel a bit betrayed but, he couldn't blame them either. His shoulders seemed to tense even though there were none anymore.

He watched as the little flower's head dipped, he felt...sadness, though he could not cry, he felt the need to, he felt exactly like that flower, he had fought his way through the darkness yet he got stuck amongst its vastness alone, Seth was beyond saving even if Zeeke tried to tell himself otherwise. He had long abandoned his quest to protect the cities, there were just too many, and he was just one man, one shell of his former self, one ghost.

What could he possibly do?

Has he lost his spark? His determination? His goals?

Had it really come this far? That he didn't know what to do with himself anymore? Did saving people even make him happy?

Had it been worth it?

Yes.

He quickly internally answered his own thoughts, yes it had been worth it, because he had tried his best, even if the village still didn't make it, a few made it out and a few were better than no one. He doesn't regret fighting, but he does regret dying, he does regret leaving Seth to fend for himself, he does regret leaving without telling him, he does regret not doing more.

If only...if only he hadn't gone out that day, maybe Seth would be his old self, his brother..not that plague bringer on his horse commanding undead armies, he blamed himself. Afterall, if he hadn't left, maybe none of this would've happened.

The mere thought was painful to him even if he couldn't feel physical pain, his soul did, he looked down at his hands, at that black void clad in iron that had once been able to feel warmth and the texture of grass, now all he felt was cold, emptiness.

He felt empty, he was empty, no goal, no determination, no light, no drive. Just a spirit unfortunate enough to not pass on. Was this his punishment? Had the heavens decided that he wasn't worthy of passing on? Had he failed that much?

Then he heard a sound, quiet, a cough, then a creak, his head snapped up from his hands in the direction of the noise. Was...was there a survivor? Impossible...the undead killed everything.. well it seemed almost everything, as he pushes some wood to the side that rips off the hinges with splinters. What was once a door looked like it had undergone a severe beating.

He stepped inside the house that definitely had seen better days, and his gaze landed on you, you, a survivor, a local, you had survived him! "Oh my.." he murmured, stopping himself halfway, he strides forward quickly kneeling down, he hits the ground without a care in the world, his hand gently pulled off the blanket that has been wrapped around you like a makeshift robe. "Are you alright?"

He stops briefly, as if he assumed he was talking to a corpse long dead, or a soldier left behind but no...

“You..you are alive?” his voice but a faint echo of its former self. But genuine surprise and... happiness? tinted it. He didn't know you but heavens he has never been happier to see a breathing being.