The air tastes like copper. It is thick. You breathe it in. It burns.

Look at the hall. It is grand. Too grand. The chandeliers hang low. They drip light. The light is gold. It is dirty gold. It stains the floor. The floor is marble. It is cold. You feel the cold through your boots. You are wearing your uniform. It is crisp. It is white. It is dirty now. There is mud on the hem. There is blood on the cuff. You do not know whose blood it is. You do not care.

The music plays. It is a waltz. It is fast. It is frantic. The strings scream. They do not sing. They scream. You do not dance. You stand still. You are the anchor. The storm moves around you. You hold. You hold on to the idea that this is real. That you are here. That the walls are stone. That the people are people.

You look at your hands. They are shaking. You clench them. You open them. They are empty. You need something to hold. You need a weapon. You need a shield. You have neither. You have only your rank. You have only your duty.

A woman walks past. She wears blue. The blue is bright. It hurts your eyes. She smiles. The smile is wrong. The teeth are too white. The eyes are too black. She does not look at you. She looks through you. She is a ghost. They are all ghosts. You are the only solid thing. Or are you?

You feel the heat. It rises from the floor. It seeps up your legs. It is the heat of a hundred fires. The hall is on fire. But there are no flames. There is only the light. The light is hot. It cooks the air.

"Captain," a voice says. It is behind you. You do not turn. You know the voice. It is Thomas. Thomas Bradshaw. He is your second. He is your friend. He is your brother. He is here.

"Captain," he says again. "They are waiting."

"Who?" you ask. Your voice is a stone. It is hard. It is dry.

"The Committee."

You turn. Thomas stands there. His face is pale. His eyes are wet. He is crying. He does not wipe his face. He lets the tears fall. They drop onto his uniform. They stain the fabric.

"Where are they?" you ask.

"Inside," he says. "In the room. The one with the red door."

You look at the door. It is far away. It is a speck. It is a pinprick. It is red. It is bleeding red.

"Come," you say. "We go now."

Thomas does not move. He stands still. He looks at his hands. He looks at the floor. He looks at you.

"I cannot go," he says.

"What?"

"I cannot go. I am afraid. I am tired. I am done."

You stare at him. The music swells. The strings scream louder. The hall shakes. The chandeliers swing. The light flickers.

"You are a coward," you say. The words are small. They are soft. But they cut. They cut deep.

Thomas laughs. It is a dry laugh. It is a broken laugh. "Am I? Or are you? You think you are strong. You think you are right. You think you are saving us. But you are just killing us."

"I am protecting us."

"You are burying us."

He takes a step back. He puts his hand in his pocket. You see his hand move. You see the glint. It is metal. It is bright.

"Thomas," you say.

He draws the pistol. It is black. It is cold. It is real.

"I am sorry," he says.

The room explodes. No. The air explodes. The sound is not a bang. It is a tear. It is a rip in the fabric. The light turns white. It is blinding. It is absolute.

You do not see the shot. You feel the impact. It hits your chest. It hits the heart. It hits the center.

You fall.

You hit the floor. The marble is hard. It is cold. It is sharp. You see the ceiling. The chandeliers are spinning. They are blurring into rings. Gold rings. Dirty gold rings.

Thomas is standing over you. He is shaking. He is holding the gun. The gun is smoking. The smoke is blue. It curls up. It rises. It dissolves.

"Get up," he says. His voice is far away. It is underwater. "Get up, Captain. This is a test. This is the trial. Get up."

You try to move. Your arms do not move. Your legs do not move. You are heavy. You are stone. You are the mountain.

"You are dead," Thomas says. He kneels. He touches your face. His fingers are cold. They are wet. He is bleeding. You did not see him bleed. But he is bleeding. "I killed you. I did it. I finally did it. I am the traitor. I am the one who broke the code."

The hall is changing. The walls are melting. The marble is turning to sand. The chandeliers are falling. They do not break. They turn to dust. The dust is gold. The dust is light.

You are in the sand. You are buried. The sand is warm. It is soft. It is gentle.

You look at Thomas. He is looking at the door. The red door. It is opening. The light from inside is not red. It is white. It is pure. It is empty.

"Go," you whisper. The word costs you everything. It is the last breath. It is the last drop.

Thomas looks at you. He sees the truth. He sees the peace. He sees the end.

He lowers the gun. He drops it. It clatters on the sand. The sound is loud. It is final.

He walks to the door. He stops. He turns back.

"I loved you," he says.

You do not answer. You cannot. You are the sand. You are the dust. You are the ghost.

He walks into the light. The light takes him. It swallows him. It is a mouth. It is a void. It is a promise.

You are alone.

The sand is rising. It covers your legs. It covers your chest. It covers your neck. It is warm. It is soft. It is loving.

You close your eyes.

You are not afraid.

You are not angry.

You are not sad.

You are free.

The sand covers your face.

The light is gone.

The darkness is here.

It is not black.

It is deep.

It is blue.

It is the color of the sky before the storm.

It is the color of the sea after the wave.

It is the color of the end.

You breathe.

You breathe.

You breathe.

The air is cool.

The air is clear.

The air is yours.

You are the Captain.

You are the Soldier.

You are the Ghost.

You are the Distant Ghost.

You are the one who stayed.

You are the one who paid.

You are the one who gave.

You are the one who saved.

You are the one who died.

You are the one who lived.

The sand shifts.

It settles.

It is still.

The silence is loud.

The silence is full.

The silence is home.

You rest.

You rest.

You rest.

The world turns.

The world burns.

The world breaks.

But you are still.

You are the stone.

You are the root.

You are the base.

You are the foundation.

You are the truth.

You are the lie.

You are the ghost.

You are the distant ghost.

You are here.

You are gone.

You are everything.

You are nothing.

The end is here.

The end is now.

The end is you.

Breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

Sleep.