His mind was foggy like a mist had descended around him and he was unable to see his way home, his home that was so far away by now. Lloyd Rennold stood at the edge of the promenade, his limbs sagging and heavy, his eyes half-closed as he peered into the murky purple water below. He still wasn’t sure why it was that colour. Behind him, he could hear the hustle and bustle of the New World, the better world. The interesting world. Six days were up. Six days had passed so quickly, and he felt he was back where he had started, staring out over the waters, mind clouded. He still wasn’t sure what with. He had the alley memorised, each pothole, each crack, each step taken down it. He knew where to stand, that was the depressing thing, he knew where he was going to die.

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He had tried his best, tried to work every angle, every lead, just like he would have done so in his normal world. But each led nowhere. He supposed this world worked differently, worked with different rules. Rules he would never understand, and now he wouldn’t even have the chance.

 

Around him, the world gradually grew brighter. Briefly, his eyes were pulled from the violet waters and up to the horizon, where the bright orange sun had started to lifts its weary head. From this distance, the water closest to it looked blue. Lloyd’s eyes dropped again to the promenade. Since he had been standing there, the water had risen. Now it sat just beneath the wooden slats, a few ripples sending splashing spilling up onto his shoes, staining them with their magical property that still confused him. At least he would die with sparkling shoes. In his hand, a golden flash caught his eye. He knew what it was but he still lifted his head to look. Another wave of depression hitting him as his eyes locked with the object.

 

His father’s magnifying glass hung loose on his fingers, threatening to drop itself like a child threatening their parents. Through its glass, he could see the symbols carved into the paved stone, the gold patterns swooping up and down, looping around one another until they finished their word, but he couldn’t understand it. His father could. If only he were here. His father had been a great man. One who could have turned the tide of war if given the opportunity, or at least Lloyd thought him possible of it. With a deep sigh, and his eyes closing even further, Lloyd loosened his grip and allowed the magnifying glass to fall. It crashed against the stone, its splinters and shards scattering across the promenade, most falling to the purple waters. Its golden handle remained intact, its familiar hollow crash echoing as it landed, but the glass itself was gone, its shards littering the floor, gazing up as if blaming him. And they were right, it was his fault. Through the dim light of a new day, Lloyd could see the people rising, lifting themselves from the ground and walking to their destination, not paying attention to the scuffed, bleeding man who stood there, unmoving.

 

Their eyes glazed over him like he were a statue or a beggar, but he didn’t care, their words meaningless to him. Turning slightly, Lloyd faced the still-rising sun, its warmth beaming down upon his as if trying to lift his spirits. His stubble-ridden face remained still as he looked into its light, the burning behind his eyes an afterthought, allowing his retina to sizzle in the yellow glow. It didn’t matter. He was to die today. With the thought pressed in his mind, Lloyd tore his eyes away and looked back into the city as best he could, resisting the urge to blink uncontrollably, and started towards the alley, hoping his death would still shape the boy he left behind.