Orze's Records #1: Salvation's Grip

"What is your name? Do you have a place to go?" Said the Master, as he reached out his hand to me, starving to death. The moment is still vivid. On a day when rainwater trickled down my eyes, his voice was a single ray of light that seeped into my darkness. I didn't respond. No, I couldn't. I'd come to realize just how meaningless names were. The war had taken everything from me—my name, my family, my future. I couldn't even remember the last time someone had called me by my name. And as for a destination? I never had one to begin with. With the whole world in ruins, where could I possibly go? Yet, he waited. His eyes were filled with patience. I was unsettled by his waiting, but strangely, it was comforting. For the first time in a long, long time, it felt human to have someone wanting my answer. Still, I remained silent. Or had I lost my voice? Instead, I stared blankly at a pebble at my feet, hoping he would simply move on like everyone else. But he didn't leave. And then, he spoke to me again. "It's okay. You need not answer."