There he sat, bloody and battered. The battle had ended, and they had won. And even though victory was with them, he laid there, nearing death while his fallen brothers embraced it. The only solace he felt was the knowledge that at the very least, his wife would receive some money from his death. She was the one who had saved him all those years ago. At the very least, he hoped she would live her life in happiness, no matter where it comes from.
As he gasped and gasped, he lamented on the memories of his life and all the wrong he had done. One thought in particular struck him in the core. His baby brother who had been killed during the seemingly never-ending war, his mother who had been sliced open and paraded throughout my village, and his father who was forced to work as a slave for the rest of his life, all of them subjected to the injustice he could not stand. He simple wished he could have protected his family. Looking around he saw the one who tore a whole into his torso, well his dismembered body that he savagely tore apart. Feeling pleased with his work he closed my eyes and struck his very last breath while embracing death.Â
With that final breath that acted as an amber, his life had once again be reignited. Unbeknownst to him, his goal in life was far from complete. Instead of fighting for others it was time to fight for himself. It was time for him to fight his own war.Â
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As the bustling streets echoed in a symphony of chaos and the citizens rushed around with purpose. The insignificant wails of a newborn echoed the hospital halls. A boy, born with a full head of crimson hair and sharp eyes that accompanied the soured face of the boy. A red imprint could be seen upon the baby's bottom and loud laughter emanated the room. The boy's mother was especially happy, her eagle like eyes glazed with tears of joy and slight pain form the whole process. The boy's father on the other hand, stood still, smiling as wide as he ever has, clearly excited to welcome his son into the world. Eventually, he began to look around to see a mysterious glow that flowed around the hands of the nurse. "How peculiar", he thought. After all, he had never seen something like that before.Â
As the nurse moved forward an cut off the umbilical cord, he then placed his hands onto the mother's stomach. The newborn stared, astounded as the torn tissue began to pull together and string into a single piece again. The newborn's eyes glistened with excitement, almost as if it was aware of the very scene that unfolded before him.Â
Eventually, the baby's parents had left to go home after several intensive hours. After which, he was placed into a hard container that seemed to possess a hidden hearth. As the boy stared into space, fragments of information seemed to descend into his mind. Each fragment a piece of a story that was incomplete. The story of a sorry man who defended his country from invaders and yet gained nothing tangible. The story of a man who had not accomplished his dream and had been forgotten, lost to the waves of history. The story of Ruairidh Archibald.Â
Although these memories stuck with the boy, he had not yet understood the story that took place. And yet, he still felt sadness. The boy had understood the pain that the warrior had gone through. Although unable to place it into words, the young boy was determined to accomplish whatever aspiration he may every choose to follow. With those final thoughts, a year had passed.
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Wrapped in a cocoon of linen and wool, I lay on my cot, bored out of my mind. Ever since I was born I had been capable of processing what was occurring around me. I was well aware that I was abnormal, an anomaly that should have never been. And yet, even through this understanding of how I was likely to be see as a demon should anyone find out, I was destined to be accepted one day. This is all because of the fragments that lay in my mind. At times these fragments of memories and information act like glass that damage my mind in fatal ways, while at other times they act as blades that seem to repel the thoughts that I myself produce that are oftentimes negative. For example, thoughts of ending my life before my parents hate me. Every though I have leaves me dissatisfied with a taste of lead that poisons me. No matter how much I wanted to deny it, I was my own poison.Â
Through these thoughts, I came to find my solution. Locking away my intelligence. After all, if I wanted to be integrate into this society, it was a necessity that I fit into its standards. Although the thought of locking away ones intellect may seem like an impossibility to many, the fragments of memories in my head brought me closer to my solution. Detailed within these fragments is a technique that the soldiers used to forget about their earthly attachments until a later date, solely focusing on becoming killing beasts that ravaged their enemies. If I could manage to tweak this technique a bit, I was certain I could limit my mind. Thus with this thought, I began my work.
Throughout the day I worked within my mind, aiming to tweak small things such as useless traits and memories of mine, finding little success. At night, I focused on introspection, understanding the fragments within me and attempting to uncover the missing fragments that hid the more information regarding the technique from me.Â
Eventually, after 2 months I had found it. The method to my regular life, and the very key to fitting in. What I was missing was the fact that the technique aimed to restrict earthly attachments. The fact that I viewed my own intellect as a hindrance prevented me from locking it away. After deducing this, it was quite simple for me to adjust the technique to rid my body of this curse.Â
With each subtle movement of my will, I navigated my mind's labyrinth, interconnecting the fragments like a spider's web. Every thought I had went into sealing my mind. Eventually, after I had bundled all my ill traits into a mass of bubbling darkness. I envisioned myself pulling it up a hill, each step weighing heavily on my mind. Eventually I arrived at the top of the hill and stood before a Stygian ravine. Moving behind the round mass, I began to push it with all my might, the weight slowly edging towards the massive crevice. As the mass began it's descent into the ravine, I could slowly feel my consciousness fade away. As the limits of my intellect divided and twisted, it felt as though a massive burden had been lifted.
I envisioned times of bliss with my family, innumerable friends and deep connections I would foster. Unfortunately for me, nearing the end of the process I could only cuss once i had realised my mind was far too light, I may have reduced myself to a boar. With that final idea, I lay my mind to rest.
This was the end of my life as an anomaly, or so I thought.