Two weeks prior to the destruction of the first checkpoint.
"Aeric, have you finally lost it?" Sonia eyed me suspiciously.
"Look," I said, "I wouldn't be telling you this if I weren't one hundred percent sure. Frankly, I've been contemplating just running off and living the rest of my days in hiding. War doesn't really suit me, after all. But, because I'm still here trying to help you, I would appreciate it if you took me seriously."
Sonia sighed as she took in my words, "I'll pretend like I didn't hear that second part, but fine. Let's say you're right, do you even have proof?"
"Obviously not, it's my word against nothing, but I'm telling you that it's worth looking into yourself."
Sonia leaned back in her chair as she rubbed her face wearily. The single long braid of her leaden-rouge hair fell off her shoulder in the process.
Currently, I was sitting across from her desk in her office within the garrison.
"Where would I even start then, huh? Crale? Angleria? What if they died within Balkan?" She asked as she leaned back forward and placed her elbows on the desk.
"No… I don't think someone like that would let themselves get killed that easily. We're talking about the strongest dwarf in the world, they're either in hiding or… up 'there'."
"Tch," she clicked her tongue, "I'm still hesitant to believe in this theory of yours… it just sounds like a desperate grasp for something to place your hopes on. Besides, why now? Every week I feel like you have something new to tell me that you could've just said before and I feel more doubtful the longer this goes on."
Of course, I couldn't tell her why. The truth that everything I've been learning and proposing to her are nothing but things I've learned from the memories of dead people, she wouldn't believe it and I don't even think I would want her to.
Every second I'm awake I spend sifting through what the dead left me. As the days go by, the more of their lives I'm able to see. I felt like it was my responsibility to view it all… to not leave a single glimpse of their lives unseen or unspent. At first, I felt like I was violating their privacy, the sanctity, of the lives they lived. But… there's no point in worrying about the dead. We live and we die trying to pass on the things we've learned while we were still able to walk within this world. I can't hold myself back from learning something just because I was afraid of disrespecting what remained of them.
When it comes to what I've learned though, it varies widely. From children's tales that the ogre's taught, to different ways to skin beasts I've never even seen. The moment I picked up a sword I realized it had a different weight… or no, that's not right. Of course, it didn't weigh any less. It just felt different. It was like the way I viewed weapons changed. They were no longer like something I held; they had become an extension of my body overnight. I delved deep into some of the memories of those that were warriors, and I was able to view countless fights between wild animals and bandits that were unlucky enough to encounter and try to kill the last ogres that had remained on this earth.
It's not like I was a terrible fighter beforehand if I do say so myself, but these were true warriors that had lived much longer than I had. Their experience was just something I didn't really have, until now. The first time I realized that I was fighting different, fighting better, it felt like I was cheating.
But-
[[It only makes sense, does it not? A dwarf as such should exist, same as I do.]] A voice echoed out from within me, interrupting my train of thought.
The leader of the ogres, the one that 'cursed' me, spoke resolutely. He spoke as if he never once cared to recognize the hatred I held for him. No matter how much I wished he would disappear, he continued to speak to me as if he had every right in the world to do so and order me around.
[[If she won't listen, you should kill her.]]
Oh fuck off.
Kill this, kill that, It's like his catchphrase.
He wasn't the one that took over my body on the night we learned of Balkan's fall, but he was the one who wished for me to kill the two kings. The ogre that did take me over withered away that night with almost all of the rest, joining the collection of memories I held within my soul.
Now that I had a firmer grasp of what was happening within my body, I was able to fully understand how many of them there were and why they disappeared that night.
46 ogres.
Well… 46 with one exception, the boy that often tried to fight back against the more hostile voices. He looked like an ogre… but he was more humanoid in appearance. I tried getting information on him, but there just wasn't any in my 'collection'. His childhood was a blur and it seems like he was found right outside the entrance of their cave by an ogre that went foraging long before Mira or I ever showed up. Even though I could've tried harder to figure out more, I just didn't want to. I reached a point where I was peering into the memories after we had arrived, especially the ones he shared with Mira, and I quickly felt uncomfortable. He was the only one that resided within me for which I had a genuine bond with, and it wasn't a great feeling to watch the life of someone who I know has a miserable and gruesome end in the real world.
I wouldn't have known it then, but I had just made a grave mistake. If only I had peered further into the boy's memories, I would've learned something incredibly vital to the war the Chosen were bringing onto us. If only I would've had the stomach at the time to replay everything that led up to his death that I had already witnessed in real life, but I didn't. And I wouldn't realize my mistake for weeks.
Looking back through their memories however, I think my perception changed quite a bit about what I had thought ogres were. I had grown up with one too many tales of how ogres were nasty warmongering beasts and had bedtime stories told to try and scare me straight, but I've learned that none of that is true. Besides appearances, they're really no different from humans.
They live, form villages, wear clothes and create children all in the same ways we do.
Of course, they weren't as technologically advanced or intelligent as we are, but that's more of a result of their environment and not their inherent nature. The warmongering thing… That's just an unfortunate stereotype brought about by Beg's war. Its true that his army was vicious, but it's not like ogres are born to be soldiers… or murderers.
Some of this I had already known before I was able to view their memories. I had seen the village they had created within the cave Mira and I had found them in. But, it was a much different thing to be able to actually view their lives.
Sure, they're a lot larger than humans with different color skin and large tusks, but they're hardly worth the fear that had been attributed to them. These aren't the kinds of monsters that would eat children for breakfast… no, they were just demonized by the world and the books of history. But, none of that really matters as the only ones still 'alive' are the ones that remain within me.
All five of the last of their race.
Besides the leader, the other four stay quiet. Although, I often hear crying in the dead of night but I can't tell which one it is since I can't actually see them.
Unfortunately, I still can't communicate back with the ones within me. Even if I try to speak to myself, it's like a one way street where only I can hear them. Even though they can see the things I do and even hear the conversations of those around me, I can't reach them.
[[I've done you a favor, have I not? Repay it by living through the coming conflict.]]
I looked ahead and saw Sonia still waiting for my answer. I shut my eyes and began talking about the past, "I couldn't really tell you why 'now', but it was just like things had lined up for me. I found a pattern and it just made sense, that's all."
"And this pattern… you're talking about?"
"The leader of the ogres, the high elf I met in Crale, and… the beast that Rant called the Monarch, the Chosen's 'leader'. Each one of them are, or were, the strongest beings within their race. Maybe strongest gives the wrong impression, but the most powerful magic wielder. I told you last week what I remembered about the ogres… about their ability to harvest knowledge from the dead."
This was the truth, and I didn't mind telling her. From what it seems from the memories I've viewed, any intelligent being an ogre kills while using their magic will be 'harvested'. Their knowledge would become seared into the wielder's brain. When I found that out, I realized that I had more questions than answers. There have been a few instances since the ogre's had received this magic that they've killed people, but nothing close to my situation has happened for any of them. None of the souls stuck around, they were only able to view the memories like I can and they could do that from the moment they killed somebody. Adding to that point, I'm still not entirely sure why I'm able to even do what I can.
Having explained all that, I feel like I should probably talk about the rest. The 41 others that became memories within me. I think the easiest way to describe it would be to say that they died a second time. Or... maybe they weren't truly dead until that point, I still haven't figured out which one it is, but they're gone. Forever, it seems.
My friend... it seems that he decided to kill them all from within me. I can't see anything from after all of the ogres became a part of me, only their memories from before their deaths, so this is really just a guess after putting together everything I knew. Still, it kind of made sense. Right before I passed out that night in front of the council, I remember now that it was his voice that was calling out to me. He apologized and talked about breaking a promise before I heard the sounds of screaming fill the void within me.
He must've done something. Even if I'm not entirely sure what it was, I'm sure it was by his hand that they were put to rest. But... if they were just souls, then how were they even able to interact with each other?
Ugh... I know that I'm missing something but no matter how hard I try to look or think about it, I can't figure it all out. The best guess I have is that what's happening with me is the exception, not the rule. Something must've backfired when 'he' did this to me. Luckily though in the effort to understand my own situation, he won't shut up.
Apparently, his magic was more advanced than any of the other ogres. Normally, I would just ignore the things he says, but it caught my interest. And well... that's because he's not the first person to tell me something just like that.
I leaned forward in my chair, placing my elbows on my knees and resting my chin on my hands as I spoke, "The leader of the ogres, " I paused for a moment, but I quickly resumed my explanation. I never wanted to speak his name again after all of the hell he's put me through, but for Sonia, I decided I would have to, "His name... was Rom. He stood at the top of what remained of their race, and it seems that he could do things that none of the other ogres could," I paused, thinking about the bastard currently residing within me before I continued, "And then there's the high elf. I have no idea whether or not she was telling me the truth, but I believe in her." I thought about the spunky blonde-haired blue-eyed high elf that changed my life after we met so long ago in Crale, and I continued to tell Sonia about what she told me, "The magic that the few within their royal family possess, that alone wouldn't have enabled her to escape the country of Eline, you know that. The wood elves and the control they have over Eline's forest with their floral magic… Nobody would be able to escape unless they were truly talented like she was. Hell, nobody in the world would even be able to infiltrate that forest without the wood elves knowing within seconds. But she… she was different compared to the rest. I wouldn't have met her in Crale if she weren't," I had accidentally let a smile creep onto my face as I reminisced about her, but I just couldn't help myself.
"Cloriea. That was her name, right?" Sonia decided to step in, "After looking through everything we had on Eline's royal family, her name didn't exist. But, you claimed she was a member of the branch family, which may explain that... Did I get that correct?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Hmm… It could be nothing, keep talking."
"Alright well, her ability to see the truth within this world, to see the futures of those around her and pierce through anything false, was unrivaled according to her. Just by touching me, she was able to see as far as a year into my future. Although, she should've been able to see further," Under normal circumstances, is what I wanted to say. It would only serve to confuse Sonia if I told her why that was, so I held my tongue, "None of the other gifted high elves could come anywhere close to her when it came to ability, but they could still see through lies and see roughly a week into the futures of others," When I mentioned it, I noticed Sonia's eyes narrow, if only a little. I knew that she believed me when I told her about the high elves, but it doesn't change the fact that it annoyed her. If you could tell every move someone would make in the future just by touching them, you could literally win any conflict. Holding discussions between our two governments would also prove more difficult in the future as withholding certain things may tip them off. Not to mention if they captured one of our own, they could discern any lie they ever spoke. Of course, the ogres' magic would be more practical for gaining information, but since they're kind of dead I digress.
"The thing that made her different from the rest... its what you told me before, isn't it? Only now, you're claiming that there's some sort of connection with that and the rest of the world?"
"Yeah... her Foresight. I'm not sure what names you've come up for all of this stuff, but that's what I called that one. It was like a danger sensor, she could feel the hostility and intention to a certain extent of other people without even needing to touch them," I may have tried to fight Cloriea when I first ran into her, it's not my proudest moment I'll be honest, but I quickly had my ass handed to me. She could read the flow of combat and I just couldn't even touch her.
The only saving grace about the situation dealing with the high elves and their magic is the fact that Cloriea despises her own people. Even though she's the most powerful, she wouldn't use that ability for her country's gain even if it would get her killed. She was that resolute about it.
I haven't seen her in years, but I often find myself thinking about where she is and how she ended up.
I leaned back and pointed out her window which faced south, "If you're still doubting me, lets talk about the obvious one. The Monarch," I said, seeing if Sonia would give me any reaction, "He's clearly different from the rest of his race. I've only ever seen him once, but it's not just my testimony. The information Trok brought us combined with what the dwarven messengers said that were sent by Rant, they've all told you the same thing as me. He's unbelievably large. None of the Chosen I ever saw were taller than ten or twelve feet at the absolute most, but him… His eye-line would be taller than most houses. I told you earlier, about that day Mira and I watched the ogres go extinct. He was there, and I saw what he was able to do. If their average soldier's strength were akin to a lit match, he was like a blazing inferno, an endless source of raging fire. Again, the pinnacle of his race. I'm telling you that there has to be a pattern there. Every race must have one individual that stands out head and shoulders above the rest."
"Well, obviously there's going to be one," Sonia picked up the pen on her desk and started shuffling some of the items around as she spoke, "If every person within our kingdom arm wrestled, we'd eventually find someone who was the 'strongest'."
"That's not what I mean. If we held a contest like that, I'm saying that there would be someone who destroyed the building by just putting their elbow on the table. Think about the bigger picture. If I'm right, which I believe I am, then there's a dwarf out there hiding his strength that could change everything for you. Even if we forget him, think about all of the other races. If they all have a key player they've been trying to keep secret, then that's a pretty big thing you'd have to worry about going forward."
"...I see your point," She sighed, probably having hit her limit in trying to debate about it, "Fine, so let's pretend there's a dwarf out there that could put us on an even playing field with the Chosen. What am 'I' supposed to do about that?"
"Hmm? How the hell would I know? I'm just the messenger, you can figure it out," I said as I stood up, "Besides, I don't have all day to sit around and chat and I can't imagine you do either. Just... trust me, 'kay?" I turned to make for the exit. It looked like she was writing something down and I decided to bother her about one last thing, "Were you able to have the chain finished?"
She shut the large book she was writing in and looked up to answer my question, "Yes. You want it for the spear, right?"
I nodded my head.
"You know where to find the chain. The dwarves aren't making much progress on replicating the magic imbued within your spear so you'll have to hold off on retrieving that until I get the word from them."
"Well, tell them to work faster," I said as I walked out the door.
I didn't really have anything I needed to do or anywhere I had to go, but I spend everyday doing pretty much the same thing in preparation for when the Chosen inevitably come. Either combat training or sifting through memories.
I decided I'd head outside and do the former since I still had some things I wanted to try. In the past, I found stuff like training a chore and I'm not really sure what changed within me. I laughed to myself as I made the short walk to the training grounds, "When did I become so serious?"
The area was pretty large and there were at least a dozen or so soldiers training in their off time. it was still early morning so I imagine this place would get filled up as the sun continues to rise. I walked over to the weapon rack beneath the shade and perused it left and right. Depending on the day, I'll pick up a different weapon since I've been trying to see what all I can do with what I've been given. But today I was being picky, and I continued to walk along the wall until I found what I was looking for.
I grabbed it from where it was leaning and turned to one of the dwarves walking by. I looked at his uniform and spotted the mark of the gifted so I stopped him and asked for a favor. He took the metal infantry spear that was much longer than what I was looking for and he shortened it to where I told him.
"Thanks, bud," I said as I sent him on his way and stuck the spear out, eyeing it from end to end.
Yeah, that'll do.
I walked out into the sunlight once again and gave the spear I held a twirl. It was much shorter than any normal infantry spear and I was just barely taller than it was when I stood it up. As I wielded it, I felt an unnerving familiarity with it that extended beyond the mere couple years I had been trying to use this kind of weapon.
I had been practicing for a couple of minutes, but I was left feeling disappointed. It turns out I was plenty capable with the spear, or maybe that was actually understating it since there more than just a few eyes glued to me now, so that wasn't why. The spear itself just felt... underwhelming.
I looked around the yard and started walking towards the row of archery targets on the far side from me. As I made the walk, I continued to eye the spear I held in my hand until I found myself about twenty feet in front of one of the targets.
There was a reason why I asked Sonia to have a chain made, and I got myself into a comfortable position as I brought my arm back and lifted the spear tip close to the right side of my face.
"I wonder... what would happen if I threw it?"
⁂
As I stepped out of the bath, water ran rampant across the floor. I continued to leave a slippery path in my wake as I walked in front of the mirror and grabbed a towel.
The room was dense with steam, and I felt lightheaded as I began to dry myself off. I started with my dark crimson hair which was much too short and anything but feminine. I looked downwards as I brought the towel across my broad shoulders and ugly arms. I ran it across my small chest and bent downwards as I dried off my rugged legs.
I didn't mean to, but I had accidentally caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
"Tch, damnit," I spat as I averted my dark brown eyes.
I hated everything about myself, and I despised the burn scars that ran prominently across the left side of my body more than anything else. My skin was already darker than most, but what was able to heal was now as black as the chunks of charred skin that were ripped from my body that day.
Every time I catch a glimpse of my old wounds that I hide behind my clothes, I feel the rush of searing pain as I hear the distant screams from when I was younger.
I hate it.
Everything everywhere at all times reminds me of 'them'.
Of why I've decided to continue pushing forwards until I die.
Every guard in the halls or sword I see. Weapons and death.
Food and meals. Burnt flesh.
Even seeing the smoke rise from chimney tops across the capital makes me think of everything I've seen and what's been taken from me.
…
...
I want to massacre them.
I want to rip Chosen soldiers limb from limb and tear their army to shreds.
I want to watch the Monarch lose another arm, see his head shatter in a torrent of red.
No matter how hard I try, I can't stop thinking about 'them'.
And… a part of me wishes I could stop. I want to be freed from these feelings, from the pain and disgusting hatred I carry.
In the beginning, it was just grief. I cried endlessly from both the pain, and the knowledge that my best friend had been murdered… reduced to ash alongside every other person in that cave filled with ogres.
As the months went by and Aeric propped me up, the grief began to turn into hatred.
My wounds began to heal and I could pick up a sword again. Only this time, I wasn't afraid of the blade I held. Swords… weapons, they were always scary things to me as a woman. I never showed it, I might've even acted a little too rebellious back then, but nothing ever terrified me more.
But at that time, I began to find solace in them. In knowing what they could do if I used them right.
How much blood they could shed.
Then, the thing with Aeric happened.
He had gone to bed early that night while we shared a room in some random inn within Crale. I came back late to find everything destroyed, the window had been busted in, furniture bashed and blood splattered across the floor. Laying silently under a pile of empty clothes that were much too large to be his was Aeric, unresponsive.
He was in a vegetative state for awhile, and I realized I couldn't continue to bask in the anguish and hatred I had felt at the time. I would always spend every night trying to gather information on the Chosen, if anyone had heard of them, but I forced myself to stop.
We didn't have much money, but I was still able to get him into a shady clinic where we wouldn't be asked for identification. We were still on the run, and I wasn't ready to go back. I didn't think he was either so I had made that choice. I spent every night wishing he would wake up, calling out his name. Even though he irritated me to no end and would always find some way or another to piss me off, I couldn't lose somebody else that soon.
He was the only other real friend I had anymore.
It would've been… too much to live through.
But, my wish was granted. Only, it was like the devil had granted it.
He would let out blood curdling screams for hours and I couldn't get him to stop trying to rip his own skin off. The only rest Aeric ever got was when he passed out from oxygen deprivation. It subsided over a few days, but I don't think I've ever been so scared in my entire life.
I just… wanted him back.
That cheeky blonde good-for-nothing who always acts like he doesn't have a clue in the world about the things that happen around him. That might've been one of the few times in my life that I've actually prayed to any god.
But after he recovered, he was never the same person again. I tried to tell him, but he thought I was crazy. He had different mannerisms and I would often find him staring blankly at things.
After some time he ended up confiding in me, about the voices. I'm probably the only person he's ever told.
But by then, we had already begun to grow distant. We bounced around doing odd jobs and I began to feel the seeds of hatred ripen once more. From deep within me, I had an itch that wasn't being scratched.
And then, I flipped.
There was some slave band that came from the state of Rancor, an unruly society seeped in the vile swamps far to the south east.
I… can't really remember it all. I just remember blood.
The taste.
Feel.
I never knew how slippery it could be, or how its warmth could be so comforting when you're in a blind rage.
It was a blur.
Eventually we ended up back here, in Angleria.
Since then, it's only gotten worse.
How I've gripped my blade tighter when I sleep.
How I speak less and less to people as the days go by.
And then Balkan was destroyed.
The Chosen… they finally resurfaced.
I shook as the dwarf from the council informed us of what had happened and I was indescribably intoxicated with hatred.
To hear that the Monarch, the monster that killed the only other friend I had ever made besides Aeric was still alive... That he survived losing an arm when he came to slaughter us all.
At that moment, I realized I had made a mistake. Even if it was for only a second, I let all of the hatred that flowed within me rest on Aeric, and I regretted it.
But, he had lied to me.
Aeric had seen the Monarch die with his own eyes, he assured me of that much. But, as the years passed, I slowly began to realize it was a lie. He had done it to protect me. The amount of grief I felt and the pain I endured as I recovered from my burns back then, I needed something, anything, to keep me together.
The thought that my friend could rest easy with his killer having been brought to justice, I held onto that for so long, even though I still wished to kill the rest.
But hearing those words come out of that dwarf's mouth, it was a battle to keep myself from bursting at the seams and screaming out as I relived the pain.
I cried that night.
Even if I put out a tough front and become physically strong, it's the old wounds that know just how to hurt you.
It's been a few weeks now, and that black mass of disgust, hatred, and remorse…
I've decided to bury all of the feelings that plague me by burning my life's rope at both ends. I'll embrace the hate and personally kill every single Chosen I can get my hands on until the tightness within my chest lets up.
Even if it killed me, I'd rip the Monarch's head from his shoulders.
All of these feelings swirl within me and yet, I've always wanted to return to a world where I don't feel like I need to fight. Where I can laugh and smile without it feeling forced.
No… I don't even force it anymore. I just don't have the capacity for it within me.
Hate.
That's all there is now.
The old Me…
The old Mira… she probably wouldn't even recognize who I was anymore.
I threw the towel onto the ground and I walked over to where I had placed my clothes. I was in the middle of getting dressed when I heard a knock on the door.
"Pardon, Lady Mira, are you there?"
I began buttoning up my shirt as I replied to her call.
"I see," I heard the woman pause through the door, "You asked me to keep you informed if anything major happens with the war at hand, and I have come bearing grave news. It would seem that the first checkpoint stationed against the Chosen… has fallen, my lady. I-it is believed that nobody survived-"
The sound of shattering and things falling could be heard echoing throughout the room as the weapon I held scattered itself and buried into the stone wall around me.
"M-my lady? Is everything all right?!"
I was bruising my hand from how tightly I was gripping the cold metal, but I didn't even notice nor did I care.
I breathed in deeply for a moment before quelling the emotions that had just rushed out of me. As I looked down, I finally realized I was holding the Zephyr and I quickly worked to recover its shape. Warped metal had shot out across the room from where I was holding it like a wild lighting bolt and I melded it back into its original form of a twin blade with my thoughts.
"Thank you," I finally called out before I heard the quick clamor of the woman's shoes rushing down the hallway as she left.
I looked down and I noticed my hands were shaking.
Was this fear? Or…
I quickly clenched my fist and returned to dressing myself in men's clothes. I didn't do it because I liked it, but because they were efficient. Most women's attire aren't anything you could ever fight in, so I've been dressing this way for years. It's just like my hair, if it's too long it'll get in the way so I chop it all off.
Still, I feel like a part of me dies every time I go through this routine. Unfortunately though, people can grow accustomed to anything.
I grabbed the Zephyr and warped it into that of an average looking sword to place on my belt. The metal is still a bit too shiny, but nobody gives it a second glance since I shape it the same as all of the rest.
I grabbed the door handle to my room and prepared to step outside. I didn't have any particular destination in mind, but I was going to leave this castle for today nonetheless. Until the Chosen arrive here in the capital, I will keep myself reigned in. I'm only human, I can't fight from afar or atop walls.
Even though I can barely keep up the act, to pretend that I'm not ready to lash out at any moment, I'm still able to recognize how little I can do on a battlefield writhing with magic. I'm not someone who would just waste my own life without a decent chance of success. But within Angleria where I grew up, the narrow streets would give me a slight advantage. Especially with the way I fight.
I was glad that woman informed me about the checkpoint. It solidified my resolve and destroyed any doubts I once had.
The way things are going... Our country is probably going to fall, but I could care less.
The Monarch… I'll kill him before that day is through.