~Sirius~
I thought about running. Running like I did yesterday. But Korlin is likely following me anyway. I shouldn''t trouble him too much.
So, I walk. Walk through these foreign streets.
I don''t have a particular goal in mind. I just need to get away. So, I trudge on with purposeless steps.
Everyone I pass seems so happy. Is that true? Probably not. Everyone has their own troubles. I''m sure they all have bigger problems than mine.
Memory loss.
I never thought something like that would ever affect me. Especially at this age.
It''s strange. I''ve always wanted my life to change. Every day for the past few years I''ve wanted nothing but for something to happen. Something to change.
Regrettably, I''ve never strived to obtain that change myself. I follow in line. I play by others'' expectations. I don''t become a burden due to my meaningless, fabricated wants.
I mean... why should I change? Why would I want to? My life is great, right? Minimal drama, a roof over my head, a family...
Who am I to change?
Be grateful.
Be happy.
And now... everything has changed. Drastically so. It''s what I''ve hoped for so long. Meeting people, exploring, experiencing new things, learning things that actually interest me...
Gone are the wasted days. Gone are all the expectations placed upon me. Gone is the everlasting feeling of boredom. Gone is the family I haven''t cared about for years. Gone are the people I pretended to call friends.
Gone is that meaningless life.
Here, I can change myself. I can grow. I can make real friends, get into a relationship, and maybe even start a family of my own. Sure, it might be tricky being a "Witch Spawn" but I''m sure I''ll overcome that eventually.
I should want to leave my old life behind. I should want those memories to crumble up and burn.
I do want that.
...
So why?
Why am I so hung up on forgetting something? Am I scared to forget?
I hate my past life. I hate the choices I made. I hated everyone.
So why?
...
Man, I contradict myself more than anyone.
I can never choose what I want. I''m beyond indecisive.
It''s not like I''m alone in this. Korlin is also having his memories taken away. He doesn''t show it, but I''m certain he''s scared. Scared of forgetting something. Or someone.
I shouldn''t feel alone in this. This isn''t a problem only put onto me.
You''re not special, me.
...
So then... why do I feel so alone?
Don''t get me wrong, I like being alone. Off with my thoughts, like right now. While it''s typically negative, I can think. I don''t need to worry about distractions or interruptions. I can think by myself away from the eyes of others.
I''ve always been alone. Not in a physical sense, mentally. I don''t talk to others about my "problems", or about anything relating to myself. It''s not like anyone would want to hear me blather. I can deal with my thoughts on my own.
I suppose I should call it loneliness. Maybe that''s what I don''t like. Maybe.
...
I like to think that I can read people. I can watch their eye movements, their hands, and in turn, know what they''re thinking. Is that true? I''m not so sure.
But it''s funny, no matter how kind someone is to me... I always see the opposite. No one is actually interested in me. Their eyes, their hands, and their body language always tell me that they don''t want to be talking to me.
They''re pitying me.
And I hate it.
But I never show it.
I put on a mask and smile for people. I''m sure they see right through it...
When I was little, I was a star. I had tons of friends, I was the best player in every sport I played, I was popular. I was a happy little kid. Back then, I was interesting. I had talents, I could interact with people easily, I could do anything...
I was someone.
Now, I can''t even bring myself to cry. I can''t feel anything. I''m so out of tune with my emotions, I may as well be a husk. I can''t care about other people, let alone myself.
Korlin, for example, is a great guy. He''s fun, funny, and his sense of childlike wonder makes me jealous. While I can tell he''s suppressing something, it doesn''t matter, because he''s himself. And he''s an interesting person.
I''m sure once he learns enough to get himself up on his own feet in this world, he''ll leave me behind. A depressing thought but it''s true. Why would he stay? What can I possibly offer him that he can''t find someplace else? I keep running anyway. It''s only natural for him to turn away.
Will I cry when that happens? I don''t know. Probably not. But I do know... it''s been fun being around him. I think I''ve lived more in the past couple of days than in my entire past life. I''ll treasure this blip of time. Even if it''s all just a lie.
...
Time...
I get so lost in my thoughts that I keep forgetting the immediate problems at hand. Like right now... My time is running out.
What am I even doing?
...
I shouldn''t be here. I shouldn''t be in this world. But I can''t just go off and die... not after that witch told me to live. I shouldn''t waste her efforts.
But in reality, I shouldn''t even be alive. I mean... I died. I was killed by my brother. I can''t say I know his real reasons, but it doesn''t matter. I can''t say I blame him. I''ll forget anyway, won''t I?
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
I pull out the beating watch in my pocket.
22758064 seconds remain.
A cruel reminder that I can''t escape my fate. It''s like the watch is laughing at me. Mocking me of how I''ll forget everything important to me.
Everything important to me...
I don''t even know what is.
...
I''m sure my grandfather was... right?
Maybe Alzir and Timekeeper are really just messing with me. Maybe I never did have a grandfather...
No... they''re not. I did, I''m sure of it. I need to stop lying to myself.
I stuff the watch back in my pocket and take in the scenery. A city full of spectacular imagery. Flying beasts and magic-using people. Massive buildings and markets, stores and stalls everywhere I look. This place is rich in culture and history.
I enter a park, if you can even call it that. It''s about a city-block-sized field of grass with a shallow pond. A short tree drapes its leaves, shading the rippling pond. Some flowers are sprinkled throughout the white and green grass. Four benches are set in pairs on opposite sides of the area. Finally, a pathway of fragmented stones leads to a small bridge crossing the pool.
It''s peaceful here, quiet. Call me crazy, but I like to walk across bridges. Something about the change in the feel underneath my feet, maybe. So, with nothing else to do, that''s what I do. The bridge is on the other side of the park, so I start along the path.
The trail''s stones are buried beneath the grass, barely visible. I watch my feet as I try to only stay on the stones. I guess I''m still a little childish.
...
Beyond the bridge, a figure emerges.
A man of tall stature surfaces. He is robed in a draping garment that reminds me of a Japanese kimono. A dark cloth underneath defines his large chest. The man is built, his rolled-up silver sleeves reveal massive, veiny forearms.
I don''t mean to sound arrogant, but I have some nice forearms myself. I work out every day, at least a hundred pushups, sit-ups, and squats. Or at least I used to, I''ve been slacking recently. I''m afraid it might start showing soon. Anyways...
Even from this distance, I can hear his footsteps. Demanding, imposing footsteps.
Perfect posture and a puffed chest as if to assert dominance. Each step has a purpose.
As if shadowing the man, wind whips the surroundings. The small tree rustles, leaves snap off and blow away. Distant wind chimes sing. The gale should muffle my hearing... but...
His footsteps consume my earshot.
They echo in my ears as if we''re in an empty cathedral.
Slowly and methodically, he approaches. Almost instinctively, I slow my advance in response.
As he nears, his facial features come into focus.
A mature complexion, maybe middle-aged. A chiseled jawline and a sharp, wrinkled nose. Ashen skin, a light shade of gray. Thick, tapered eyebrows sit stern on his brow ridge.
White, silvery hair is tied into a long ponytail by a red ribbon. Loose strands hang from his hairline. The ribbon-ends along with his hair vacillate violently in the gust.
As his daunting presence approaches, I feel myself shrinking. I''ve never felt so... intimated.
Especially when I look at them.
His eyes.
Sunken, sharp and tired eyes. His make my own eye wrinkles feel even more insignificant. This man has been through hell. And now it follows.
His irises.
Blood red. A damp, deep crimson flaming with furiosity and savagery. The crimson masks his tiny, black slit pupils.
The color is unsettling, but it''s the look in his eyes that''s disturbing.
An unwavering, scornful stare.
Our eyes don''t meet. I don''t want them to.
My legs keep marching, I want them to stop. My footsteps pale in comparison to his. It feels like at any moment, one of his steps could split the planet in two.
My eyes divert to the ground. I don''t hang my head; I don''t want to offend him.
We reach armlength distance. Each step he takes sounds like it could shatter my ear drums. I can''t hear anything else.
I don''t think he wants me to.
With a final footstep, our shoulders practically connect. A sound similar to a shockwave explodes in my ears.
...
I can''t move.
Skull-crushing pressure weighs down against my skin. It''s as if I''ve entered an atmosphere with ten times the force of gravity. I can''t even lift a finger.
What the hell? What is this?
Every part of my body is still. I can''t even blink. I slowly bring my eyes to the man''s face.
He''s not even looking at me.
Louder than a whisper, softer than a normal voice, the man speaks.
"Witch Spawn."
The two words reach my ears in that of distortion. The man''s voice is deep, his words fluid yet ring like a haunting choir.
A frigid chill crawls across my body. The hairs on my arm spring upward. Goosebumps ripple up my arms, clearly visible due to my missing sleeve. An icy sensation reaches my chest and seeps into my halted heart. I feel sick.
I can''t open my mouth. My lips are sealed tighter than particles. My tongue is heavy in my mouth.
"You don''t belong here," he still stares forward. It feels as if he''s etching the words right into my soul. "You are a plague upon this dying world."
"..."
Dying world? What is he talking about? Does he not feel this gravity?
Somehow his body is unaffected by this force. The grass around us, my clothes, everything in the immediate area is weighed down. Except him. His clothes, hair, and body are all unrestricted. He''s keeping himself still to speak with me.
Who is this man? What is this overwhelming presence?
All I can do is stare on in horror. All I can do is stare into his cold, crimson eyes.
...
Until he stares right back into mine.
...
He doesn''t move his head in the slightest. Only his eyes roll into place, piercing straight into my soul.
Recently, I''ve felt a lot of fear. An emotion I once thought I''d forgotten has crept its way back into my life. When I was dying. When I was digging myself out of the ground. When I found out my memories were going to be ripped away. All were frightening experiences.
But none of those compare to what I feel at this moment.
I hate when people look at me. I despise it. It always feels like they''re belittling me. Pitying me.
But his eyes hold something different. I don''t get the same feeling when I look into them. Not the fear of judgment. Not the fear of being seen. Not the fear of pity...
What I get is a natural, raw instinct embedded in my veins.
The fear of death.
No...
This man is scarier than death.
As our eyes meet, the sound of another shockwave shatters my eardrums. The pelting force of gravity grows even stronger. My knees buckle, and I can hardly stand. I can''t even tremble in fear.
It''s as if I''m being pinned down by that truck again. Suffocating my airways and crushing my fragile bones... I hear crunching in my ears.
It''s now that I realize... I''m not breathing.
I feel the whites of my eyes bleeding red. My throat constricts as if a python is wrapping itself around it. My head splits with sharp pain. Is my brain bleeding?
For some reason, I can''t look away. Our eyes are locked in a horrific staring contest. I plead with my eyes to the demon, but he doesn''t blink. Is he reading me?
"You wouldn''t happen to be an Apostle of Err? Would you?"
I can''t even begin to comprehend what he''s saying. There''s no way I could even answer.
"No... you shoulder far too much envy."
Envy? Of what?
I don''t know. Please stop. It hurts.
Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts.
"Then, do you know the location of Vitus?"
I don''t know who that is. Please... stop. I can''t possibly even respond.
"..."
His eyelids fold tightly together in frustrating acceptance. It feels like he''s scoffing at me with his presence. A raging river is about to explode from this man, and I''m not sure if I''ll be able to withstand it.
I''m powerless, helpless.
It''s then that he hammers the final nail in my coffin. His eyebrows furrow and bend his face into one of unrestrained loathing. The whites of his eyes enlarge as he whispers the ghastly words.
"You died for a reason. You should never have been reborn."
...
...
He''s right.
My life should have ended.
Who do I think I am...?
My knees give out and I crumble to the stones. I don''t break eye contact with the man. I can''t. My bloodshot eyes likely fuel his disgust.
We stare at each other. The hierarchy is more than established. I''m the lowest of the low. This man... sees right through me, doesn''t he?
There is no pity in his eyes. No concern for my well-being... Only unrivaled rage and hatred. I''ve never met this man in my life, and he decides to despise me. I can''t say I blame him.
The man''s gaze separates from me and returns forward. His narrow eyes pry open in concern but quickly retreat back, even more furious. He un-balls his fist and with it, the enormous pressure lifts off of me.
I''ve never felt lighter in my life. I fall completely to the dirt. I begin to breathe. I rapidly intake as many breaths as possible, coughing and vomiting blood, and staining the once green grass.
The man withdraws, his footsteps much lighter than before. He makes his way back from where he came, across the bridge. I hardly notice, I can only focus on myself.
It hurts so much more now that the pressure is gone. Is this decompression sickness? I curl into a ball, lying sideways in my own blood.
It stings much worse than being run over. Did that man use magic? He had to of have. There''s nothing else that could cause this much pain.
The agony is overflowing.
I need to scream. But I''m too scared to open my mouth.
After many minutes, I catch my breath. I sit up and slowly regain my composure. I look in the direction that man did before walking away... No one is there except for a slender man with mauve hair. The man is dressed in loose armor with an intricate sword hanging from his hip. A knight, maybe?
Was that man scared of him? Surely not.
The knight is preoccupied with what appears to be a child in front of him. I could ask for his help, but it''s probably best not to bother him. I need to get out of here.
My legs don''t respond, they keep shaking. My whole body is.
I''m terrified.
I''ve never experienced fear like that before. That was the pinnacle of fear. The zenith of horrors...
This world is horrifying.
I shouldn''t be here.
I can''t stay here.
That man was right...
I don''t belong here.