At that moment, I reached a breaking point in my life. Nothing mattered anymore. The weight of everything I had endured—every battle, every death, every betrayal—pressed down on me like an unrelenting tide.
Even death itself, which I had long considered a release from this torment, felt like a distant illusion, something out of my reach.
I didn't understand death—not truly. All I knew was suffering, waking up after each supposed death as if it were just another nightmare I couldn't escape. My wounds healed, but my soul remained broken, shattered with every rebirth. It was a cycle, endless and cruel. The pain of existence gnawed at me, making every day feel like a repeated punishment.
The physical pain wasn't the worst of it. No, it was the psychological torment—the unrelenting, suffocating weight of a mind that had long since ceased to find solace. And the worst part? There was no one. No one to understand, no one to share the burden. Just me, alone in a world that no longer felt like it belonged to me.
I had fought countless battles, survived quests across the kingdom, and gained more experience than most men twice my age. And yet, none of it mattered. The fame, the recognition, it meant nothing. What was the point of it all when I had nothing left to live for ?
Night after night, the same nightmares consumed me. I would close my eyes and pray for the dreamless rest of death, but it was always the same. The darkness, the blood, the screams—they would never stop. I had tried everything to end it, everything I could think of. But in the end, I had to accept that I was powerless to change my fate.
It didn't matter where I went, or how far I ran. I felt the world closing in on me, suffocating me. The vastness of it didn't matter because there was no place for me. It was as if the world had moved on without me, and I was stuck in a frozen moment, unable to escape the grip of my past.
And then after weeks… it rained.
It rained for days, as if the heavens themselves understood my pain. Why was it still raining in my heart? Why couldn't the storm just end? My thoughts were as dark as the skies above, and yet, I kept going. I had no choice. There was nothing else to do.
On a day that felt no different than any other, something changed. The sun, which I hadn't seen in what felt like years, finally broke through the clouds. A soft light touched my face, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, I felt warmth. The dark thoughts that had consumed me—my hatred, my despair—fell silent. The world felt still, and for a brief moment, I could almost believe that there was hope. With only one gaze, everything changed.
But the battle raged on.
We had been locked in a prolonged conflict, our forces outnumbered but determined to hold our ground. It had been bloody, grueling, and endless. The opposing forces had finally retreated, but everyone knew it wasn't over. We could delude ourselves all we wanted, but it was only a matter of time before they would return, stronger, more determined.
The soldiers, weary and battle-worn, gathered at the Central Plain, where they would be assigned new duties. We had to protect the borders now, as suspicions of another attack loomed over the kingdom. The war wasn't over—it was merely a break in the storm.
But for me, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered. I just followed wainting for the end of it all.
The sun was still shining, but I could feel the darkness creeping back into my soul. The weight of my past, the endless cycle of pain, was a constant shadow in my mind. And as the soldiers around me prepared for what was to come, I couldn't help but wonder if this was it. If this was how my story would end: an endless war, no hope, no future.
I didn't belong here. I didn't belong anywhere.
And yet, there was no escape.
The soldiers had moved forward, all eager to leave the past behind, eager to pretend as though the nightmare was over. But I knew better.
War had no end.
The only difference now was that the face of the enemy had changed. Cassian's face had been replaced by a new one—someone who could truly fill the void left by his death. A new commader. His gaze was mesmerizing, it was like he could see the storm in my heart.
I stood by the campfire that night, eyes glazed over, trying to find something to latch onto in this hell of my own making. A few soldiers were gathered around, but no one dared approach me. Not after everything they had heard about me, I was cursed, death itself on the battlefield. Ennemies and soldier that i fought for both feared me.
I noticed a shadow moving toward me from the corner of my vision. It was a familiar shape—tall, lean, and with a swagger in his step. The newcomer was one of the soldiers who had joined our ranks recently. His name was Dorian, and from what I had heard, he had seen his fair share of battles.
"Not talking tonight?" Dorian asked, his voice cutting through the silence. He stood a few feet away, his posture casual, but there was something in his eyes that suggested he wasn't intimidated by me like the others.
"I don't talk much," I replied, staring into the fire.
Dorian didn't flinch. He took a seat next to me, unbothered by my cold response. He looked around at the others, who were keeping their distance. Then, he shifted his gaze back to me, his expression hardening.
"You must have lost someone dear on the battlefied. But I know you're still fighting. You're still alive in all the ways that count."
I didn't respond immediately. I hadn't let myself think about the death of my brother in a way that didn't feel right. I hadn't allowed myself to mourn. I had spent too long running from my past to even consider acknowledging it.
"I'm still here," I muttered. "That'sthe problem...it's meaningless." I wispered.
I let his words sink in, but I didn't feel the flicker of hope he was trying to ignite. I only felt the weight of everything that had come before, the ghosts of the countless soldiers I had killed, the faces of the families I had shattered.
I shot him a cold glance. "You don't understand. No one does."
Dorian gave me a sharp look, but he didn't back down. "And what? You're just going to fade away? Let the past keep you locked in the same nightmare?"
I didn't answer him. What could I say? The past had shaped me, scarred me in ways that no one could undo. And yet, as much as I wanted to deny it, a part of me—just a small, faint whisper—wanted to believe Dorian.
"Listen," Dorian said, leaning closer. "You can't change what's been done. But you can damn sure control what you do next. It's not about running away from what you were. It's about stepping up and fighting for something worth fighting for."
A heavy silence hung between us, and I couldn't decide if I was more tired of fighting or tired of existing in this limbo. My thoughts were drowning me, and I had no answer. But for the first time in a long while, I felt the weight of something different.
Dorian had no idea what it meant to be trapped like I was, no idea how deep the scars ran. But I couldn't shake the feeling that he was right in some twisted way. Maybe this wasn't the end of my story. Maybe I wasn't condemned to walk this dark road forever. Perhaps destiny had something waiting for me.
It was only a desperate lie i kept telling myself...
"Maybe you're right," I said after a long pause. "But I don't know where to go from here."
Dorian gave me a half-smile, something faint but genuine in it. "Start by not being what they made you. Be who you choose to be."
I could only nod, the words lingering in the air between us. It didn't feel like much, but it was the first step toward something. Something new.
The next morning, we were ordered to march again. The sun was hidden behind clouds, and the ground was wet from the recent rain. But for the first time, I didn't feel like the sky was just a blanket of grey. There was something in the air, something that felt like change.
I didn't know where the road would take me. I didn't know who I would become in the end. But with every step forward, I felt just a bit less burdened by the past.
And maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to walk away from the monster they had made me.
Dorian, however, seemed to believe in that possibility. And that was enough for me—for now.
The days blurred together as we marched across the western borders. The air was thick with the tension of impending battle, a weight none of us could escape. Despite everything that had happened, despite the haunted memories, I was trying—trying to believe in something, anything that could pull me out of the endless darkness that had consumed me.
Dorian kept talking. He was persistent, always there, offering words that were too much like hope for me to accept, but still I listened. His energy was relentless, a force that dragged me along. But there was something different about him that I couldn't place—he had this belief that kept him going. As if he had something to fight for. He often talked about his brothers. I admired it in a way. I didn't have that anymore.
The battlefield was a mess of confusion when the battle finally erupted. The sun was barely visible through the smoke, and the ground was slick with mud and blood. The clash of metal, the cries of men falling, the explosion of sound, and the horror of it all... I had been through it so many times before.
But each battle felt like it chipped away a little more of what I had left inside. I wasn't fighting for a cause anymore, just for survival.
And then, tragedy struck me once more.
Dorian, charging ahead like the damn fool he was. He cut through the enemy lines with the same fire he had in his eyes back at the camp, but this time, something was different. His movements were more desperate, more reckless. As if he believed, for a moment, that we could still win something—anything—in this damn war.
I wasn't fast enough. I wasn't ready. I couldn't stop it.
A scream. A loud, guttural sound that froze my heart in place. Or what was left of it...
I turned just in time to see Dorian fall to the ground, blood pouring from his side, his sword slipping from his hand. My legs moved before my brain could catch up, but the enemy was already on him.
"Dorian!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned by the chaos around me. I pushed forward, elbowing soldiers aside, but it felt like I was wading through thick mud. The field seemed to stretch out forever, the distance between us growing, no matter how fast I moved.
I reached him just as he was gasping for air, his body racked with pain, his face pale and contorted in agony. He looked up at me, those same damn eyes that had tried so hard to pull me out of my hell.
"I… I-my brother... he" Dorian coughed, his breath shallow, blood bubbling at his lips.
"No!" I dropped to my knees beside him, fumbling to press my hand over his wound, but I knew it was too late. He was slipping away, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. "You can't—Dorian, stay with me! Please…"
He laughed weakly, a sound that broke me. His hand, shaking, reached up to grip mine. "You can make it out. I know you can."
"No, no, don't say that!" My voice cracked, but the more I begged, the more helpless I felt.
The world felt still. His blood was seeping into the earth beneath us, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't save him. My hands were stained with it, just like all the others I had killed, just like everything that had come before.
Dorian's eyes started to fade, the light slipping from them like the last traces of the sun setting over the horizon.
And then, like that, he was gone.
My hands shook as I stared at him, my chest tight and constricted, the breath in my lungs refusing to come. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't feel anything anymore. The battlefield continued to rage around me, but it felt distant, muted. All that noise was nothing more than a dull hum in my ears.
The soldiers passed by, stepping over his lifeless body as if he were nothing more than a casualty. Another soldier falling as a "hero".
I stood there, numb. No one came to him. No one cared. Dorian was dead, and I was still alive. A cruel twist of fate. Why had he believed in me ? Why had he thought that I could be something more than the monster I was?
I looked down at my hands, covered in blood. The blood of soldiers, the blood of a friend, and the blood of my own soul.
The war raged on. And I, the one who had been too late, too slow, could only keep fighting. Keep killing. Keep existing in a world that no longer cared if I lived or died.
But now, it wasn't just about survival. Now, it was about vengeance. But not for the war. Not for the victory that could never be won.
It was for Dorian. For the life that had been ripped from him, for the hope that had died with him, and for every moment that I had failed to save him.
I would keep fighting. But not for the kingdom. Not for anyone else.
I would fight for him. For the last piece of humanity that had ever truly believed in me.
And the war? Well, it would burn in the background, an endless reminder of everything I had lost.
But I wouldn't forget Dorian. And I wouldn't let his death go unanswered. I had to find the purpose he talk about, I had to find something or someone to live for.
Because my own life wasn't worth it anymore...