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Chapter 1

To those whom set eyes upon this book know these are the events that have led up to my eventual demise. This is to be my life summed up for anyone who wishes to know the monstrosity before I became such. My earliest memories were when I was a young boy, maybe only a few years old. I would always count on my mother. She was the one who took care of me for most of my adolescent life. My father was a Nord by blood, lived high in the bladed mountain range with his people. Mother told me that he denied his heritage to join the military. I guess in some strange way this was his way of making a difference in life. But mother paid no heed to such happenings. But yes my life as a young boy.. It was a warm spring day in the city of Durastia, lush grasses I played in, it all seems like a distant memory to be honest. The sweet warmth of mother's fur, the loving touch I felt.

I was a bit of an odd child. I was always the one that was allowed to play after all the other children had already gone home. For the longest time I wondered as to why father did not want me to play with the other children. As I grew older I began to realize just why, mother was my playmate. She was the one who taught me the ways of the old gods, and just that they truly existed. She was a cleric by trade, and the local physician just outside of town. We always had soldiers coming in and out of our home, usually being patched up by her, be it because of carelessness. Or because of sheer stupidity. Sometimes they would meet with father to discuss orders.

Father in his own way I guess tried to show me his affection, when I was old enough to hold a blade he took me outside and tried to show me just how to swing it. I was in perfect honesty afraid of him. His all around demeanor and the air around him made me nervous. It made me stiff to walk. When I would talk to my mother about it she always defended him, saying that he loves me just as much as he does her. I believed her, blindly I believed her. It was the day that I turned seven that I began to realize this feeling of love is nothing more than a weak facade. His feelings toward me grew further from me the more I grew and began to look like him, a twisted little spawn of him. Eventually the stench of cheap booze seemed to linger in the house, night upon night became a fight between the two, falling asleep to the sounds of anger and disdain.

Mother always had her assumptions that father had been having an affair. But never did she bring it up, in fear of my hearing of it. Most days if he came home early he would try to "toughen me up" by usually "sparring" with me with wooden or dull iron swords. His strokes were calculated and unforgiving, sometimes even enough to break bones. I was truly fearful that one of these days he would be the one to end my life so short. The last time I ever remember sparring with him I remember mother had to intervene. She feared that he would do something he would regret. Some days I wish that he did... The beatings during sparring only made my dislike turn into anger. Mother was always there though...She would bandage me where it was needed and would hold onto me tight..Singing lullabies to help quell the tears and the pain.

The thought that always ran through my head when I was young..."Why doesn't papa love me. Why does father hate me so..Why does he call me such horrible things..What did I ever do to deserve it?" I always found myself wondering these things. When I finally was able to sneak off from the prying eyes of mother, and when father was on patrol I fled into the city. Wearing a sheet that mother had hung to dry the day before, I used it to cover myself up so father may not recognize me. It'd be a lashing for sure if he knew I had left.. I went to play with the other children, and I finally felt like...I belonged. They let me join in their merriment and their hide and seek. It was like I felt something had been missing was returned to me, a feeling of joy. For the very first time. I felt joy... As certainly pathetic as that sounds...Every chance I got I would come back to play with them. But like all dreams they eventually die.. One day when I was on my way to play with the children one of the kids decided it would be clever to yank my hood...

And when they saw the disfigured half breed that I am, they were repulsed. Repulsed by the fact I was different...Some ran away..Some even had the gall to grab sticks and to strike me, or to throw stones. It was that point that I learned that I was different, that I was considered a freak by normal standards...When I returned home to mother covered in cuts and bruises...My face wet with tears. She could only cry... As if for some reason HER! The gall of this! She was the one who took pity...Probably because of the fact she regretted laying with a man and diluting her own proud bloodline...I was a mistake. Nothing more...

The following day was a day that even in the age I am..It is burned in my brain...I remember it so crisp as if it happened moments ago. It was on the day of the festival of the gods... Mother was preparing the home for the incoming infirm, as well as our shrine for the gods so that we may say thank you. One of the guards from father's barracks came by to drop off orders to father. When mother heard him say that, she was for obvious reason concerned; because he'd been up since sunrise. Mother...Averiel...Forgive me, but your trust in such a fool was truly this family's undoing...

It was a warm evening, I had been the home helping mother prepare for the ceremony. I do not know what brought this on from mother but..Something inside her. Instinct made her do what any real parent would do if they knew their child was in danger... Her words still ring inside my head... "Uldrach, you need to hide. There isn't any time to argue this, you have to get out of sight!" Mother embraced me tightly before she shoved me underneath the bed that I rested my head upon for so many years.. Moments later the door had burst open, father was drunk, and was very loud. He said things..Many things that even in the state of numbness toward him I felt still cut me like a rusted blade..Each cut leaving a festering wound that would just never fully heal... "Where is that freak." is the most common thing that came out of his slurring mouth.

Mother would do her best to try and pacify him..Until eventually he finally broke. He spoke up. The stupid fool told her about his affair. If he had just left than perhaps things would have turned out...No, who am I kidding they would have been vastly different. I would not be writing down my life as I do now. Mother finally broke...The pain in her voice was almost too much for my heart to bare. The unbridled fact she gave her entire life to this man. Only for him to do such terrible things; and with a barmaid nonetheless! A lowly bar wench he found in his travels as a soldier! Mother's tears were so very real. Giving up being upper class, even being an heir as a duchess of the kingdom of Etraesea.. She stepped down and turned her back on family to be with this...This lowlife! Just the thought of it makes my stomach churn..

I heard the sound of his iron glove make contact with flesh, and a yelp from mother when she hit the ground. She scrambled to her feet, making eye contact only briefly. She summoned up her strength and courage to back him into the living room, finally telling him just how she felt about it all. But in the end it was something that would be the end all. I could not see it all happen..The sounds of iron hitting flesh, breaking bones....The crying, the screams of anguish. They still rattle my very soul to this day.. When the silence hit and the sounds went from dry to moist and spongy... It's when mother...Her body lay there pooling. The room was silent aside from the labored breathing of the bastard whom left her in such a way. The coward dropped the iron and fled the house, I think for a brief moment...He felt genuine regret. Regret for leaving a child alone in life, regret for hurting the woman he spent so many years caring for and dare I even say, loving.

I was so young...I went up to my mother...I held her in my arms...Trying to hard, singing those same lullabies that she would sing to me...Hoping she would wake up. Praying to the gods that she would be okay..Three long days. The longest three days of my life... When the town guard finally came to check on us since Holngrim had not shown up for duty several days. They sent the guards to make sure everything was alright. They came in to a boy cradling his mother's head in his lap, kneeling on the wooden floor, clothes caked in blood..The stench of decay had already set in.. I kept..Praying, in denial that this could happen to someone as pure as the freshly fallen snow itself..

The local guards I do not recall their words, words that stuck out like adoption..Freak..Psychotic break.. My mind grows weary..I believe I will have more to write soon.. For now I must breathe.. So much can only be processed at once..