The Character kept walking.
Although he felt as though he had been on this journey forever, never once stopping for rest, he kept going.
He had no other choice. The Path was all that existed in his world. It was created to be travelled, and that was his job.
The Character did not notice the loneliness anymore. Long ago, when he began this journey it had been torture. Now, the lack of anyone else was a blessing.
He didn’t know when or why The Path had been built. As far as he could tell, no one knew of it but him.
It was situated high in the mountains, isolated from all else. The Path had been designed so as to touch the summit of every peak, and then continue in a long bridge to the next, and the next. Below The Path, all was covered in grey mist. Above The Path, the sky was heavily overcast.
This was the rule. No other place could ever interfere with the world of The Path, or its sole inhabitant.
The Character didn’t remember a lot about his life before The Path. He didn’t even remember when that time had ceased to be, and his current existence had begun. He was aware, however, that there had been something before The Path. A life that now existed only in the deepest recesses of his memories.
It was the question he always asked himself. How did this happen? When did colours turn to grey, when was happiness replaced by loneliness, when did he become what he was?
What had he done to deserve this?
Alone on The Path, the Characters greatest form of entertainment was self exploration. He would cast his memory back as far as he could, and occasionally would receive a snippet of the last world, of his previous life.
This was rare, but it could happen.
The other thing he liked to do was explore the nature of The Path. What would happen if he strayed from it? Why was he here in the first place? Who had created it?
He was certain that somewhere along the line he had learnt why he was here, but that knowledge had long since disappeared. He had learnt his purpose, his reason, his mission, but it had vanished from his mind almost as soon as it arrived.
Nothing was remembered for long here.
As there was no concept of days, or time on The Path, it is impossible to measure when it was that things changed for the Character.
It is theorized that, due to the intense boredom of life on The Path, anything out of the ordinary can spark epiphanies.
It just so happened, that when the Character had buried himself in the deepest levels of hopelessness and depression, when he neither knew nor wanted anything anymore, a bird flew overhead.
At first, he didn’t recognize what it was. His bleary eyes gazed skyward, his heart jolting at the sight. The tiny, white thing was flying far above him, circling.
For the first time, he stopped in her tracks and stared, watching the bird intently.
And, as the bird soared, memories began to return to him. At first, it was only two words.
The Door.
And suddenly, he remembered what he was doing here. He had to find The Door.
Almost ecstatic in the pure joy of revelation, he watched the bird, a slight smile beginning on his cracked lips.
If he watched long enough…
Long forgotten images of his life were returning. Only a couple of tiny glimpses at a time, but it was enough to spark hope within him.
It was not to last.
Even as the white bird began the steady process of bringing him back, the black bird made its move.
With none of the grace or elegance of its rival, the twisted creature burst through the cloud cover, letting out a loud screech. The Character flinched. He had never heard sound here before.
The black bird collided with the white, violently attacking, hooked beak and talons tearing into it.
This did not stop the return of memories to the Character, but it certainly changed the nature. Rather than the gentle, quiet thoughts the white bird brought, the memories the black bird drew were violent, painful things, tearing into the fragile mind of the Character.
How could he have done those things? It couldn’t have been…
He fell to his knees, clutching his head in agony.
Far above, the white bird closed its tiny eyes.
Unable to contain himself any longer, The Character let forth a scream of pain, his voice bouncing off the hills, reverberating though the chasms of the mountains.
And as he screamed, the dam broke.
The memories flooded him, everything returned at once.
He knew who he was. He knew why he was here.
In a final act of divine rebellion, the white bird grabbed onto the black one as it fell, its weight dragging its foe down with it. Together, they fell into the mist.
Around the Character, The Path was breaking.
It was over.
For Sirius Black, salvation had finally arrived.