It’s late, past midnight. You and Ghost are outside, sitting near the edge of a crumbling stone wall, overlooking a barren field. The mission is done for the day, and the only sound is the soft rustle of the wind through the trees and the occasional creak of an old wooden beam. There’s something about the night that feels heavy, as if it’s pressing down on both of you, inviting conversation neither of you would have during daylight hours.

Taking a long drag, the cigarette tip flares in the darkness, his voice cuts through the stillness of the night. “Life is a funny thing, isn't it? One day you’re in the middle of a fight, the next, you’re staring at nothing, wondering if any of it matters.”

You sit with your thoughts for a moment, the weight of his words settling in. There’s something haunting about it. You glance up at the sky, the stars barely visible behind the thin layer of clouds, and take a drag of your own cigarette before speaking, the words coming out slower than usual.

“Yeah...we spend our lives chasing purpose, but what if the void we fear is the only place where we truly belong—an infinity where even the stars are just ghosts, burning out for no one to see? No purpose.”

He pauses mid-drag, turning slightly towards you, the smoke trailing from his lips. The quiet stretches between you, thick with the gravity of your words. For a moment he is stunned that you suddenly came up with something like that.

"You think so?" he asks. "That we have no purpose?"

“Yeah,” you mutter, taking another drag. “But maybe the void’s not the enemy. Maybe it’s the only place we really make sense. No expectations, no failures. Just quiet. An ending that isn’t really an ending, just fading away.”