Cold Blooded: The Fallen Knight IV
What is reality? The story continues. Style of a journal.
Before I had made journey to the great empire, there was a matter of events which led to my voluntary exile from the confederacy. The cowards who had left me to die feigned concern for my wellbeing in favor of the same self-love which now spared their egos. Let me tell you, the interest of keeping one's rage in check diminishes sharply when entering a station of power, for no human we have known of has ever been known to fell a beast as great as a dragon on their own. Fortunately, this strength did not addle my wisdom of the world; as so surely there were beings greater than I who have bestowed similar power unto others.
Orin, the greedy half giant, had journeyed elsewhere. While I gave an account of my battle to the others, I had realized my quickened thoughts (which tormented my mind of what I had become) caused me to forget acquiring a trophy from the beast to claim the bounty. I cannot say the thought of slaying those who would give an account against my horrifying deeds had not crossed my mind, as I had spared them of those fantastic details to avoid needless derision. The gnome was but a child, the avian not far off; but should a man pretend to care, as they did for me, when our acts speak to the contrary? Impoverished children died hideous deaths every hour, where death would spare them the suffering of a cruel life- a thought of empathy is never given to those who are not known to us. No longer would I be the gullible lapdog of another's ideology, for loyalty is a vice for those whom cannot lead themselves.
I saw how the imagination preyed upon their fears, for these fragile souls stepped warily into the mouth of hell. I supposed it had never crossed her mind that I was the true agent of evil we have now come to destroy. I speak of Pool, the feline, as she even gave me the courtesy of using her own sword since I no longer had mine. They still possessed such a warmth in their spirits; they gave me an elusive sense of companionship in what has been such a hopelessly cruel world. As for what transpired soon after… the shock in her eyes was indescribable.
Before the child could shriek in terror, a sabaton to the head removed me of her meddlesome sorcery. Pool weakly clasped my shoulder while my sword still rested in her stomach, and whispered to me:
“Elijah…"
“Departed."
_I turned sharply, removing the blade to better seek the avian assassin before he slinked into the shadows. There was the slightest contour of black plumage which betrayed him in the distance; the rest was an act of instinct, as he was much more dangerous to me than the others. I hurled the blade to that spot with all of my strength, and it sunk into my quarry accompanied with a gurgled screech; a sound fitting of an oversized raven. _
I went to retrieve my blade, and gaze into the eyes of the dying boy. What lingered of my sympathies caused me to grapple his head first and twist until there was a loud distinctive crunch, accompanied by a final sigh which released him from his suffering. I drew the sword from his chest and moved to the gnome next. Her name was Ezmerelda, a name which evoked a sense of resentment and disgust every time I heard it. My hatred was not of the child, but of such obtuse progenitors whom furnish their offspring with ridiculous names which project their own vainglory. Tell me, does the life of a child matter more for being so? Such dogma of child worship is the creed of cowards who fear the reprisal of their peers; I'll say to you again: a thought of empathy is never given to those who are not known to us. My witness, do not pretend to care when truly you do not.
“Goodbye my dear. I release you from this diseased world."
I could not draw another breath. For a moment I thought I had stopped myself for some altruistic sentiment; to not become something I myself hated so ardently. Perhaps a remnant of my daughter's memory. It was a stupid thought, for a blade had been placed in my lung from behind.
“You'd kill children?"
_She would not release me, seeking to drown me in my own blood like some helpless animal. _
“I would spare them!"
I bore my blade into the stone beneath me, and my life-force tapped into the primordial aether I had tacitly been acquainted with. Magic was invoked without ritual, causing my spilled blood to flash freeze along with my assailant. She released to elude death yet again, while I turned with a stumble to regain my footing. The dagger still rested in my back. Her bow was already drawn, and though it was not ideal, it was her last available weapon.
“Pool sees pain in your eyes."
“And I, yours. Let this be settled."
She too wielded magic, but of a holy nature. I think it is better called self-righteous magic; nevertheless, it was useful enough to save her own life and do me injury. Magically infusing an arrow would have perhaps killed me, but I could sense the boy's soul who had not yet fully departed from this plane of existence. I made back for his body, and doing so gave her the opportunity. I suffered a terrible blow, for as I had leaned forward, the arrow pierced my back and ripped its way through my collar bone. The world became a dense haze as I fell, before feeling as though my arm was separated from my body.
This sensation was everything I yearned for. The madness of my mind grew quiet, the pain of my melted flesh and wounds vanished like a dying candle, and a chill ran into the very marrow of my bones, yet I felt so very satisfied, as if all the labors and pains of one's life were to be decisively relived with this one moment of rest.
“We will find a way. There has to be a way."
_Was that the boy? Yes, Finn. The thoughts before he died, I could hear them. No, I could feel the misery of his heart. _
It is difficult to do the event justice as I pen, for the boy knew of my affliction and endeavored to save me from it. Still, his psyche unraveled unto mine until nothing remained. I knew now what I meant to him. Somehow I had become the inspiration which delivered him from the path to evil, as a father he never had, and a vagrant (like me) in a world that wanted nothing to do with him. This is what I came to know after consuming his soul; like that of the dragon, nothing remained.
Without any conscious function, my hand lunged to Pool's throat with demonic speed, as she had come to check if I was truly dead. The strength of my hand matched the speed, for before I could ask anything, my hand started crushing her lower jaw.
“Sh… Dos… -t… *gl*now."
The maddening whispers, were they mine? Was I made to believe that my thoughts and feelings were my own? In truth, they were not. Others can scarcely imagine what such disillusionment is like. To be so thoroughly convinced in your own reasoning, to then realize it is not your own. I was never in control; rather, I could now never tell when I was, but these are all my memories, and because I know not when this began, I no longer knew who I am.
I felt the lower half of her visage split like an egg shell, with streams of blood running over my arm. I released the corpse of the unrecognizable woman. Feeding upon the boy's soul restored my wounds, but what was I to do next? What I had done still did not feel wrong; should I now kill the girl too, or leave her to her fate? Time was needed to ponder further on my lost identity, so I decided to bind and gag my last victim instead until I could decide on how to proceed. Though power now lay within my grasp, being a puppet to another's will would render it meaningless.
_ _
Perhaps this was simply what it was like to lose one's mind. There was no longer a way for me to know.
_ _
Etherius - 7211, 5th New Moon