The Shilar Story (WIP)

 The Shilar Story (Working Title)

"Enemy mage! Take cover!" the Captain's voice boomed behind the advancing Fifth Company of the Sredinah Fourth Imperial Army. The soldiers scattered behind the shattered buildings of what once was the city of Leandric, raising their tower shields. In a few short moments, a hundred heavily armored men were now hiding behind ruined stone structures, destroyed by intense shelling over five days. Once, a great border city, a large trading hub of Sredinah’s North – now reduced to rubble and ash by the military machine of Imperial Siewersk.

“Blasted Siewerski mages. Not even a decade ago, they were hated by their own nation. And now, they’re in their army!?” First Lieutenant Hader’s voice was drowned out by the explosions that were getting ever closer to the area where Sredinah soldiers were taking cover.

“Permission to speak freely, sir?” asked Shilar, a tall soldier, in his early twenties with a massive scar streaking horizontally across his face, just under the eyes.

“Granted. Speak your mind, Shilar.” Nodded, Lieutenant Hader.

“Don’t linger too much on that, Sir. People are strange, and quite frankly, I am not the slightest surprised that they now employ mages.”

An explosion shattered a two-story house that was missing its roof, not five hundred meters away.

“What do you mean?” Hader was observing the Siewerski mage, who was levitating above air and hurling destruction at the Fourth Imperial Army from her hands. The air carried a scent akin to that in a blacksmith’s shop. Shilar would know, for he was the son of a blacksmith.

“The army’s one of the easiest paths a person can take to achieve status – especially if they come from an oppressed group that was allowed freedom so suddenly. Sir.” An explosion shook the ground near the Fifth Company, which was now being separated into platoons by the Captain – who was deploying anti-mage tactics as he rode behind the soldiers who were hiding behind cover.

“I guess that makes sense. The Captain’s calling for you, Shilar.” Lieutenant Hader said, and nodded his head towards the Captain, who was galloping towards their squad.

“Where is Marble?” the Captain pulled his horse’s reins, stopping in place.

“Specialist Shilar, callsign Marble, reporting for duty, Sir!” Shilar stepped out of the line and saluted to the Captain.

“At ease, Soldier.” The Captain nodded and turned to First Lieutenant Hader. “First Lieutenant, take two squads and get Marble close enough for a kill shot. I’ll take the rest of your men. We will distract that pain in the ass that’s levitating above us.”

“Understood, Sir.” Hader saluted and began shouting orders, picking out men for the task, as a series of explosions detonated dangerously close to their position.

“Marble. You’re a capable mage, from what I’ve heard. Our survival rests upon your shoulders, Soldier. May the Father of Light guide your hand.” The Captain turned his horse away, and rode down the street, followed by the rest of the First Platoon.

Shilar fished out a marble from one of his belt pouches and kissed it lightly, while uttering a silent prayer to the Father of Light. He turned and looked at the twenty men who were waiting on him. “We should circle around her, and reach that bell tower at the end of this block.” He said to the Lieutenant.

Hader nodded. “Lead the way, Shilar.”

The two squads were now sprinting down the street, away from the battle, trusting in the protection of a series of destroyed houses that were just high enough to cover their advance. The Siewerski mage had now turned her attention to the rest of the Fifth Company, hurling massive energy blasts into the heavily armored infantry soldiers that have formed a shield wall, allowing the Gunner Squads to fire a barrage of bullets in her direction, slowing her attack. Shilar knew he had to act quickly, or the entirety of the Fifth Company would be decimated. It's not an easy task, going up against a – what looked like an Essence mage. Especially with energy blasts this strong. As he was running from cover to cover, his mind was bombarded by thoughts of how he should approach the situation. He didn't really know what he would do once he was up on the bell tower. The fact that the bell tower had a gaping hole in its base and looked like it was going to topple over at any given moment didn't really assure him about whatever the hell he was trying to do. The timing is crucial. He'd need her to be in the range – which was about someone hundred meters away, if he wanted to hit her with one of his Charged Shots.

He stopped dead in his tracks, as he saw a glimpse of enemy units just around the corner. His hand flew up and formed a fist, signaling a stop to the rest of his unit. Lieutenant Hader approached him and Shilar had quickly signaled "enemy soldiers, close proximity" with their military sign language. The two of them carefully peeked behind the corner, and saw a unit of ten Siewerski soldiers, patrolling the area – obviously looking for any Sredinah soldiers that were near. Three of the soldiers were equipped with heavy guns.

Shilar’s breathing was quick. “Can you take them out?” Hader asked. 
“I could – but then I would risk being discovered by our friend in the sky. My Charged Shots aren’t exactly quiet.” He was rolling a marble in his fist.

"No, we won't. We have to time it with her explosions. I'll watch her and give you the signal." Hader assured him. He quickly signed at the rest of the soldiers to quietly move forward, under cover of the alleyway, and attack the Sredinah soldiers after they'd been hit with Shilar's magic.

Shilar closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He opened himself to the invisible Ocean of magical energy the Librarians called Ruhanaan – a broiling sea of energy that exists in all things around them, living things and objects alike, permeating them; flowing through and from them. Shilar was taught that Ruhanaan was the very Force of Creation that had shaped the World, and that mages were the ones who were blessed with the ability to shape that force to their will. He felt the different flows of energy pulsate around him, as he searched for the ones he could use. The burning flows of Fire brought with it warmth as they entered his body, followed by the firm flows of Earth, that brought with them awareness of the ground and the minerals around him. He focused those flows into the small marble that was tightly gripped in his fist. First, he had used Earth to understand the marble. He felt every single minuscule nook and cranny that dotted the surface of the marble. He felt its sturdiness. He felt that it used to be a part of a larger mineral that was shaped into a sphere by the deft hands of a craftsman. He felt the stone, and he uttered a command word: "Fill." Flows of Fire poured into the marble, heating it to near-molten state. Shilar cracked a smile at the familiar pulsating feeling that emanated from the marble that was charged by Fire. "Impact. Explode." He uttered two more command words, tying down the spell on the marble – and his first Charged Shot was complete.

Just in time, it would appear, as he opened his eyes and saw Lieutenant Hader signaling "ATTACK" at him. Shilar stepped out in the open, planting his feet firmly in the ground. He felt the familiar sensation of adrenaline coursing through his body; his entire being trembling with excitement. His lips twisted into a wicked smile, as he stopped being Shilar, the Soldier – and became Marble, the Mage. The Siewersk soldiers had noticed him and one of the heavy gunners was beginning to raise his weapon when Marble threw the marble that he was holding in his fist. Instinctively, his hand moved towards his pouch and his fingers fished out another marble. By the time the Siewersk heavy gunner had started to aim down his sights, the marble connected with his shoulder plate.

A single clink was heard before the marble exploded with force, synchronizing perfectly with the distant explosion of the energy blast from the Siewersk mage. The heavy gunner was instantly blown to bloody pieces of steel, cloth, and flesh – as the explosion of the Charged Shot took out three more armored soldiers, ripping limbs and heads from the bodies, and threw the remaining soldiers to the ground, stunning them. Marble had already turned another marble into a Charged Shot – but a hand on his shoulder that belonged to Lieutenant Hader stopped him from firing another, as his squad rushed at the downed Siewerski soldiers, stabbing their halberds into them with deadly efficiency.

Marble let the charged energy dissipate from the marble that was in his hand. It turned into dust and he let the gentle breeze blow it away from his hand. He let his gaze rest on the impact area for a few seconds, taking in the sight of singed corpses that were missing limbs. He nodded in satisfaction.

“Excellent work, Shilar. Time to get to that bell tower now, don’t you think.” Hader lightly punched Marble’s chest plate and moved towards their squad that was on alert, and waiting for new orders, with dead Siewersk soldiers at their feet. Marble kept smiling, as he ran after the Lieutenant, who had sighed in relief as he picked up one of the heavy guns that were relatively intact from the explosion. “This might prove useful.” He said as he slung the weapon over his shoulder.

In a few minutes, Marble’s squad was standing behind a half-destroyed wall that was some ten meters away from the bell tower. Marble could see clearly that the tower was a bit skewed – looking dangerously unstable. “This is a very stupid idea.” Shilar’s voice echoed in Marble’s mind, but he quashed it as if it was an annoying bug.

The mage was close – perhaps some three hundred meters away. “Not close enough," Shilar spoke inside of Marble’s mind once again. “Let Hader get her attention with that gun. He supposedly shoots very well.” Marble nodded as if Shilar was standing right next to him.

“Lieutenant, I know how we’re going to do this.” Marble’s voice sounded like a more arrogant and confident version of Shilar’s voice.

“Do share with us.”

“I heard you’re a good shot. I’ll need you to get up on that roof right there.” Marble pointed to a relatively intact house that was very close to the bell tower. “And I’ll need you to shoot at her, so she turns her attention towards you.”

Hader was staring at Marble. “Are you insane?”

“No. You’ll have to move from the roof immediately after the shot, so she comes chasing after you. When she gets close enough, I will take her down.”

Hader was thinking. He was looking at the roof, and at the bell tower. He took a deep breath. “Fine. I don’t see any other way of getting her attention. She’s probably relying on that squad of dead soldiers to warn her of any danger from behind but we made sure that they won’t do that. Fine. Men, with me!” he and the rest of the squad moved towards the house, as Marble walked up to the bell tower. The wall where the door was supposed to be was blasted open by cannon fire, and the lower tier of stairs was completely destroyed. It was a miracle that the tower was still standing.

"This thing is being held up by God's goodwill. It's still a dumb fucking idea to try and climb it." Shilar voiced his opinion once again, and Marble waved his hand as if swatting away a fly. “Ignoring me doesn’t make it any less dangerous, you thick-skulled dumbass.”

“Shut up or I’ll kill you.” Marble said angrily.

“Some good that will do. How exactly? Are you perhaps gonna swallow a fistful of marbles and choke on them? That’d be ironic. Marble, killed by marbles.”

“I SAID SHUT UP!” Marble shouted. He gave a sideways glance to the house, and he saw the Lieutenant looking at him with a confused face. He turned away and walked around the bell tower’s base. “This is how we’re going to climb the fucking thing.” He said as he saw a metal ladder attached to the wall, leading up to the top of the tower. “I really hate it when you take control.” Shilar voiced his annoyance. “But on the other hand, you’re the one who has a voice in your head – not me.” Marble grunted something hatefully, as he began climbing the ladder.

The tower creaked, but Marble ignored it. He kept on climbing. "AT LEAST BE CAREFUL AS YOU DO IT, YOU ABSOLUTE MORON!" Shilar was squirming inside Marble’s head. “What were you saying about me killing us a moment ago? Not so fucking smart about it now, are you?” 
“Bah. You’re unbearable.”

Marble chuckled as he climbed up to the top. He stepped around the massive iron bell that was hanging from the rafts, being careful not to step on the side where the tower was missing its wall. He leaned against the railing and found Lieutenant Hader watching the bell tower. He signaled "Shoot" at him. Hader raised an affirmative signal and aimed the heavy gun at the Siewersk mage who was channeling a massive energy ball above her head. "That doesn't look good," Shilar muttered. “Thank you for that. If I ever forget how to use my eyes, I’ll make sure to ask you for your detailed observation.”

“Fuck you.” Shilar’s voice had gone silent as the gunshot echoed from the roof. The slug hit its target. But it wasn’t a killing shot. The huge energy ball that had formed above the mage’s head had winked out of existence as the bullet tore through her left calf. A bloody spray exploded from her leg as she screamed in pain. She immediately turned her attention towards the roof and saw Hader, as he was hurriedly running across the roof. She instantly hurled an energy sphere at the house, but Hader had already jumped from the roof into a second house that had its entire top blown off by the battle that had raged in Leandric.

The Siewerski mage had sent herself flying across the sky, streaking towards the roof with two energy spheres trailing behind her, gradually increasing in size. Marble had taken out a marble from his pouch the moment she started moving forward – immediately turning it into a Charged Shot. And he aimed.

She came into range. She was now levitating above the house, looking down at the place where Hader had disappeared. Marble took a deep breath.

“THROW IT, COME ON!” Shilar screamed. Marble didn’t move a muscle. He was filling the marble with flows of Fire, still. “HADER’S GOING TO DIE! DO IT!”

But Marble didn’t move. “Not yet.” The marble in his hand had begun to sizzle as it was burning the flesh inside his closed fist.

“COME ON MARBLE, DON’T DO THIS!”

“Not. Yet.” A pain, akin to that of a white-hot nail being driven into his flesh bit into Marble’s fist, and he winced.

The Siewerski mage had flailed her hands in a sweeping motion towards the ruined house where Hader was. As the energy spheres started to descend, Marble’s entire body tensed up like a coil and he flung the Overcharged Shot straight into the Siewerski mage.

He uttered a new command word. Obliterate.

The marble connected with the mage’s face.

The flash of light was blinding. The explosion that followed was deafening. It turned the house under it into literal dust – as the resulting shockwave shook the ground at least half a kilometer around the blast zone. Walls and buildings that had their structural integrity weakened by the merciless bombardment of the Siewersk forces were blown to pieces. The bell tower shook dangerously, and with a loud creak – it began to topple to the side.

Marble was quick. Quicker than Shilar, in any case. He was already throwing himself over the side with the ladder – catching himself on it with one hand. The huge iron bell clanged and echoed one single time, as it was hit by the shockwave and then thrown to the side by the tower’s collapse. Marble waited until the tower was slanted enough – and he let himself slide down the smooth, stone surface of the tower as it fell. He took out another marble and charged it. Right before he was supposed to slide off of the stone wall and smash into something with his full body, thus immediately dying – he threw the Charged Shot into the ground in front of him as he slid off the tower completely and yelled “BLOW!”

Another explosion – this one being many times weaker than the one that had just gone off – went off. Marble used the weak aftershock of that weak explosion to dampen his blow. He felt the parts of his body that weren't encased in armor singe and burn, as the armor near his ribs viciously bent inwards, cracking his ribs. Marble hit the ground, hard, with the loud sound of cracking bone. His entire world went black.

Shilar opened his eyes and was met with the canvas ceiling of a healing tent. He looked down and saw his body covered in bandages. His right leg was in a cast. He knew he was heavily sedated, otherwise he’d be screaming in pain. Weakly, he lifted his right hand and saw a perfect circle burned into his palm. He closed his eyes and sighed in relief as he realized that Marble wasn’t hiding in that one usual corner of his mind, yelling nasty insults at him. He turned his head to the side and saw Lieutenant Hader, wrapped in bandages from head to toe – both his arms and legs in casts, and his face bruised. But his chest had been rising and falling in a steady rhythm, which meant he was still alive, thankfully. Shilar was happy that Marble didn’t kill the Lieutenant.

The sound of nearing footsteps turned his attention to his other side, as he saw the Captain standing over him. “How are you feeling, soldier?”

“Broken. But I’m fine. Sir.” Shilar managed a weak answer.

“That’s good to hear. You’ve been out for five days.”

“Five da- what about the battle?” Shilar sounded genuinely surprised.

“We won, son. Whatever you did back there, scared the Siewerskis so much that it allowed us to carry out a vicious offensive. We pushed them back considerably.”

"That's...good to hear."

“The Seventh Army arrived three days ago and reinforced our lines. The battlefield’s far away from here, son. You can rest peacefully.” The Captain said, yet, his face had a very sad expression and his eyes carried anger.

“What about the Fifth?”

“We…We lost more than half of our Company’s men.” The Captain’s knuckles went white, from how much he tightened his fist.

"I'm sorry we weren't quicker," Shilar said, sadly. He wondered how many of the men he once knew and fought with side-by-side, were now dead because of him.

“No. You two are the reason why some of us are still standing here. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sir.”

“Now, rest up and try to regain your energy. They said you’d be able to get out of bed in a few more days. When you do, I want a full battle report. Any battle that turns half a city block into dust and leaves behind two thousand corpses is a battle worth talking about.”

“Two th-th-thousand?” Shilar was dumbfounded. His mouth was agape and he was staring confusedly at the Captain.

“I always said our mages were our greatest asset. Now rest, son. I must attend to other matters.” And the Captain turned on his heel, leaving the healing tent.

“What the fuck did you do, Marble?” Shilar stared up at the tent’s ceiling.

“Oh, that was not Marble.” He heard another, deeper voice echo within his mind.

Thunderstruck outside, rattling the windows of the house. Raindrops pattered upon the glass surface in uneven taps. The walls muffled the sounds of the raging storm outside - which was common for a summer night in Northern Sredinah. The sky outside wasn't just dark – it seemed like it was pitch black. As if there was a void, a nothingness beyond which matter stopped existing. As if the house of the Walacai family was the only thing that stood defiant against the storm clouds and the rain and the lighting; as if they were the only ones in the world, battling the weather on their own – with no one to help them. 

His parents and his older sister were huddled in front of the fireplace, sitting in silence, listening to the disharmonious orchestra of sounds produced by nature's wrath outside. There was something about that scene that felt very familiar to Shilar. As if he had seen it before. The nervous posture of his mother, who was just staring at the crackling fire. His father was nervously fidgeting with his fingers, his breathing unsteady. His sister's leg was nervously tapping on the floor. All of them were filled with visible unease. As if they were expecting something bad to happen. Shilar didn't understand why. This wasn't the first storm in their lives. It wasn't even a new thing – he could distinctly remember worse ones that resulted in broken windows, torn trees, and burnt fences. He remembered each of the four times lightning struck in their backyard. This night was peaceful compared to those, if anything.

He walked through his house, trailing his hand across the walls. Memories of his childhood rushed in, images flashing in his mind as he made each step. Family pictures were hanged in the hallway that went through the middle of the entire house. A rugged carpet with a Selmani pattern covered the floor; he looked at the intricate geometrical patterns that were splayed on the surface of the thick wool and he wondered why the bright, joyous color from the carpet was missing. He looked around, his gaze catching a glimpse of his family in the living room once again – and they sat in front of the fireplace, seemingly frozen in time. Unmoving. And the carpet wasn't the only thing devoid of color. It seemed as if someone had sucked the vibrance out of the world around him. Everything was covered by a grey overtone, muting the bright reds and the bright blues and the yellows of the carpet, the light-blue of the walls.

Shilar stepped in front of a large mirror in the hallway. He stared at his own reflection. There was something odd about his preteen body, dressed in comfortable sleeping clothes. He knew that he wasn't seven years old anymore – he was twenty-five. But as much as that felt odd to him, the thing that felt even stranger was the man standing beside him, in the mirror's reflection. The man's hand was resting on Shilar's shoulder. And he felt a slight pull, as if the man was trying to pull him away from the mirror. He saw the man's face. He had a twisted expression – his face contorted in anger – streaked with a large, horizontal scar that extended over his entire face. Eyes were glowing with a bright-red glow – and Shilar was reminded of the fire burning in the furnace. The longer he stared at the man, the more it reminded Shilar of him. He knew then, that he was looking at himself in the mirror. “Am I really this angry?” he wondered.

“You are angry, Shilar. You are furious with the World.” He heard the man’s voice inside of his own mind.

“But why? I don’t have any reason to be angry.” Shilar responded.

“You will see. Watch.” The man then suddenly disappeared, and Shilar stared at his reflection – that now looked like his adult self. He saw himself, dressed in the crimson uniform of the Sredinah Imperial Army. Colour had returned to the world around him. His eyes rested on the badge that was resting upon the right side of his chest – a badge that meant: Military Mage. "I'm not a mage," Shilar whispered, his voice angry. That startled him and the reflection was now completely gone. The mirror only reflected the closed doors of his room behind him.

A sudden, loud knock on the door suddenly took his attention. He ran to the living room, where his family was seated. The entrance to their house was near the front door. The loud knocking repeated, this time amplified by the roar of a thunderclap that shook the windows. He stood in the doorway, and he saw his father get up – face completely drained of color. His mother and sister's faces were covered in fear. And he saw himself – young Shilar – sitting near his mother, tightly clutching at her arm. The knock repeated once again. His father walked up to the door. "Who is it?" he yelled, trying to make his voice sound intimidating, but failing. It came out almost as a terrified whisper. The weather was extremely hostile and by the Emperor's grace, no one sane should be wandering around. Let alone knock on doors.

“Who is-“, his father’s words were interrupted, as a sharp thud and a wet squelch cut him off. Through his father’s back, a large, flat metal blade jutted out just under the shoulder. A large red stain had begun to spread, when the blade suddenly disappeared – retreating through the thin slit in the reinforced wooden door. His father’s body thudded on the floor, with a puddle of blood forming underneath him. “R-run.” He managed to whisper, weakly, before dying. Those were the last of his father’s words.

Shilar felt completely frozen. He stared at the horrifying scene. He stared at his mother, whose mouth was opened agape, but her voice was frozen with terror. His sister now tightly hugged both her mother and young Shilar – and he felt a tight squeeze around his adult body. It remembered the feeling of that hug.

The door smashed open, revealing a dark silhouette of a tall man, illuminated by lightning from behind. "What have we here? Hmm?" he said, but the words sounded melodic. As if he was singing them, as if he just did something that caused him great joy. The stranger stepped through the doorway and into their house. His long, dark coat was dripping wet. One of his sleeves revealed a long, bloodied blade that started growing even longer. His long, bone-white hair had been matted to his pale skin, framing his angular face that had an ecstatic grin plastered over it. His eyes turned to the remaining Walacai family that was huddled closely on the couch, and he let out a laugh; that terrifying laugh that sounded so rich and full of joy. Shilar felt the blood draining from his face, as he stared at the scene, incapable of moving.

Suddenly, his mother screamed and threw both young Shilar and his sister to the floor. “Run away! Go!” she screamed, as she charged at the stranger, who stood there – unfazed by the woman who was running towards him. He merely moved his hand in an upwards arc, before his mother collapsed on the floor, with blood spraying from her severed halves. Her body slashed in two pieces. The cut was seamless – perfect. As if she was made out of butter, and a hot, sharp knife went through her. The stranger’s face was covered in blood, and the sudden flash of lightning illuminated him – burning that image in Shilar’s mind. “Demons do exist.” Shilar heard the thought that echoed in young Shilar’s mind. His body was paralyzed.

His sister took a candle holder from a nearby table and took a protective step in front of young Shilar. "I admire the fighting spirit, oh I do!" the man sang, once again. He stepped over his mother's mutilated corpse and slowly walked over to the two kids. "You're lucky you have such a good sister, boy." He whistled. "Too bad she now has to die for showing defiance." And he laughed again – his laugh filling the entire room, drowning any thought, and other sounds. Overpowering even the raging storm outside.

"NO!" his sister screamed and ran towards the stranger. His eyes suddenly lit up with a bright, blue light. A glowing, blue tendril – almost ethereal – extended from his other hand, wrapping around his sister's body and yanking her into the air. Her body hung suspended, her legs flailed underneath her as she screamed. "You will be silent, girl." He growled. Young Shilar was crying. Shilar felt the boy's tear streaking down his face. He saw the blue tendril wrap around his sister's body, slowly crushing it as it squeezed, as it climbed up towards his sister's mouth. Her wide eyes filled with dread and pain somehow widened even more as the tendril forcefully shoved itself inside her throat. She started gagging and gurgling, as she struggled for air. But no air came. Her eyes rolled inside her head as her neck limped slightly. Shilar saw her throat bulge and he knew that tendril was going deep inside her. Think bloodstreams trickled out of her ears and nose. The stranger's eyes – Shilar understood that he was a mage – widened in morbid ecstasy. His sister jerked and buckled, her fingers twisting and bending unnaturally, as the tendril violated her insides. Each painful movement she made gave the stranger a jolt of pure joy, which made Shilar sick to his stomach.

He felt his insides churn. He felt something burning his entire body from the inside. He hated. Oh, how he hated at that moment. He hated the stranger mage who violated his entire world. He loathed himself for being a weak child unable to do a thing. He abhorred the world for not sending help at any moment. He was alone. And he hated.  Young Shilar's face darkened – becoming a twisted mask of fury. To see a child have such a dark expression – to see himself as a young boy with that face – it froze Shilar. He felt that very same emotion permeate his being, he felt the overbearing anger lean on his shoulders and press him down. He felt his incapability to save his family tear at his heart, clutch at his very soul. Young Shilar howled in wrath, as Shilar joined him – tears running down his face.

 Young Shilar kept screaming as he ran towards the man who was killing his sister. His beautiful sister. "SIT DOWN, BOY!" the stranger shrieked, backhanding young Shilar with his bladed hand. Shilar saw that the blade was actually in place of the stranger's fist. Young Shilar flew into a wall, slamming into it – his tiny frame rising and falling unevenly. Shilar felt a sharp pain across his face spreading – like a burning horizontal line that's going over the width of his entire face. As young Shilar laid there, crumpled on the floor like a piece of paper, the stranger mage turned back to his sister. This small distraction stopped him from killing her outright, as his tendril stopped moving.

“LEAVE HER ALONE! LEAVE HER! NO! LEAVE! I HATE YOU!” Shilar screamed, but he knew that his voice couldn’t be heard. He knew that, somehow, he did not exist in that world. He was watching a memory unfold in front of his eyes, and there was nothing that he could do. That made his heart sink. Suddenly, he felt something stir in the bottom of his stomach. At first, it felt like a hot stone wrapped in thick cloth placed on top of his belly. Warming his insides up gradually.

That gentle heat turned into searing pain. As if he had swallowed a white-hot iron ball bearing and now it was pushing down on his guts, trying to burn through his entire body. He winced in pain. But then, the scorching heat spread through his entire body. His arms and legs felt like they were filled with molten metal. His eyes felt like two sizzling coals in his head. He felt this powerful energy, fuelled by his wrath, by his inability to do anything, by his hatred – his weakness. He felt it rise within him, expanding outwards from the bottom of his being until it started pushing on his skin, from the inside. His hands started viciously shaking, as he tried to contain all that explosive energy that was trying to burst out.

The stranger mage had drawn a few thin cuts in his sister’s face, letting the blood soak her dress. She was still in the air, but Shilar knew she wasn’t alive anymore. Her entire body was limp, and her throat looked like a deformed bulb of skin, with her head twisted at an unnatural angle. He cried. Behind the stranger mage, who had a look of delight mixed with insanity – as he gazed at the dead body of a young girl whose life he had just extinguished – a figure of a boy had risen. The stranger mage was too busy slowly taking in the gore and the massacre he had just committed in order to notice that the young boy behind him wasn’t the same boy he had backhanded. It wasn’t the same boy who had cried for his family.

The boy's face was completely placid. It had shown no emotion whatsoever. As if a darkness had fallen over the boy – a darkness incomprehensible to the human mind. Young Shilar's eyes were white. The color of a steel rod heated to white-hot temperatures. Shilar felt that same emotion. He felt the enmity, the blistering rancor towards everyone and everything that was planted inside of his mind during the events he was currently witnessing. He had seen this same scene played in his mind over and over, countless times. And he always felt the same thing.

He felt his own weakness, his frailty, his incompetence – he felt inadequate and useless. And he felt angry. Oh, the resentment he had felt – tempered by the passing of time within the furnace of his own mind, many times over, a part of him as much as he was part of it. And he screamed. He screamed so much that he felt his throat bleed. He kept cursing himself. And the mage who had killed his family. He howled and yelled and growled, but the pain was overbearing. It did not go away.

A sudden pressure on his shoulder stopped his mind from collapsing on itself any further. “Watch.” He heard a deep voice whisper to him. “This is who you are. This is who I am. Remember. ” And he felt his head turn towards the young version of himself, and he saw the child, who had a bloody, open gash across his face, raise his hand. His lips opened and closed in silence, as young Shilar whispered something. Suddenly, the blade on the stranger’s hand turned blazing-red. Then it became molten and it began glowing as if it was just pulled out of a blacksmith’s furnace. He screeched in pain, as his blue tendril disappeared, dropping the lifeless corpse of Shilar’s sister to the floor.

 Now, it was the stranger’s turn to scream in pain – oh how satisfying the scream was. The shrill shriek of a man who thought he was untouchable. The sound of a bully whose victim had overpowered him. The amount of disbelief that scream was filled with, the amount of fear Shilar had heard, oh how beautiful it sounded. To inflict suffering to the man who had ruined his entire life, to cause him pain – it was Shilar’s greatest joy.

His lips opened together with young Shilar's lips who was standing across the room from him. The stranger mage had backed away a few steps, unaware of what was happening to him. He tripped on the lower half of Shilar's mother's corpse and fell backward, yelping in panic. Young Shilar and Shilar had whispered a word. INCINERATE. And as the last letter left their mouths, the stranger mage, who had somehow crawled towards the front door of the house, wailed as his hand erupted into a roaring flame. In seconds, a murder weapon was turned into a burnt ruin of an appendage.

The two Shilars whispered another word. EXPLODE. Not a second later, the charred hand of the stranger mage glowed with a blazing orange, before filling the room with the sound of a deafening explosion. It was so powerful that it threw the man out through the doorway – taking with it half the wall. Shilar suddenly felt his vision darken, and both young Shilar and he fell to the floor, crashing into the floorboards, hard.

 

"-PLODE!" Shilar screamed as he jerked himself awake. His breathing was heavy and hard. Both of his hands shook viciously and he put them under his armpits to calm himself down. He immediately looked to the side and saw the blur of Sredinah’s landscape streaking past him, as the train was speeding up. Mountains and forests merged into a streak of brown and green as Shilar closed his eyes and leaned it against his seat. His scar hurt him. A dull, pulsating pain that weakened by the moment. He rubbed it with his right hand. His left was still encased in a cast. Images flashed through his mind, as he remembered the large battle he had been a part of on the borders of Sredinah and Siewersk. He was a soldier, and now he was going home on his well-deserved leave. Looking around the cabin, he relaxed after he had seen there was no one with him.

Shilar took a deep breath and stood up. Glancing through the window once again, he mentally placed the train’s position in the world. He saw Mount Invictia’s ice-capped peak rising to the north, and he knew that he would be home in a few hours. “I’m thirsty.” He said to himself. Going outside his cabin and walking towards the train’s restaurant, he felt shivers creeping up his spine followed by a very short tinge of nausea. His body and his heart remembered the intense anger and pain he had felt seventeen years ago, on that one night his entire world changed forever. When his family was massacred in front of his eyes. When he became…the thing he hated the most. When he became…he didn’t want to admit to himself what he is, even though he knew. “Why don’t you admit it, Shilar?” Marble’s familiar voice echoed in his head. “I’m not a monster. I’ll never be a monster. Like him.” Shilar answered, keeping the conversation with the voice in his head contained inside his own mind. He wouldn’t like people hearing him argue with an invisible person – surely they would think he was mad, and he wasn’t insane. He was…troubled. Yes, troubled is the correct word for him, he thought.

"Denying what you do not erase what you are. Remember that." Marble's voice trailed off, as Shilar successfully forced him into some dark corner of his mind where he usually spends his time. "Damn mage." He muttered to himself as he made his way across the train. The passengers were all clad in the uniforms of the Imperial Army of Sredinah – and as he entered the restaurant, the amount of glint that was coming off of polished badges that signified rank made him squint his eyes. He saw lieutenants, captains, and even a few generals sitting in the large wagon. Everyone seemed so – satisfied. True, they had just won a border war that could have turned into something more horrific, and the soldiers should be happy. They are returning home safe and sound. Yet, Shilar didn't feel the same elation at the prospect of victory. He was a key figure in obtaining said victory and yet, he cannot remember a single thing about the entire ordeal.

He approached the bar and climbed up on the tall chair. The bartender smiled at him. She had a very wide, pretty smile. Her hazel skin spoke of her Selmani origin. He managed to smile back at her, weakly. "What can I get you, sir?" she asked him in a very pleasant, polite tone. "I'll have a cold Siewerski vodka. The stronger, the better." He needed a punch to the brain and stomach, something to force out his muddy mood, and Siewerskis made some of the strongest alcohol on Pelaraam. The bartender turned around and took out a large bottle, tinted with a dark green. When she popped the cap open, Shilar instantly felt the liquid kick his nostrils. "Now that's strong, whew." He exclaimed. "It's the strongest we have." The bartender's deft fingers snatched a shot glass from the glass rack, spun it around, and with a flick of her wrist, the glass slid across the wooden counter, clinking the bottle. She picked up the bottle and poured the crystal-clear liquid in the small glass. In a second, Shilar felt an air of chill wash over him from her, as she touched the glass with one finger. He saw frost settle around the glass, as she pushed the glass towards him. "Cold as ice." She smiled.

“Thank you.” He said, his smile wiped away. She was a mage, and he didn’t feel like sitting at the bar and talking to her. He quickly got up and without looking at her, he started looking for a place to sit in the crowded restaurant.

“Is she a monster too?” Marble’s voice rang in Shilar’s head.

“Shut up.”  

“I asked a valid question. She did nothing wrong, and she was pleasant. Yet, you chose to move from her.”

“She’s a mage.” Shilar’s voice sounded annoyed.

"So am I.," Marble said.

“You’re a burden I can’t seem to get rid of.”

“Silly man. I am a part of you, as much as you are a part of me. You only need to accept that.”

“I’d rather die than let you take complete control over our body.” Shilar wanted to growl these words angrily, but he restrained himself.

“Now you’re just being stupid. If it wasn’t for me, you’d never have survived. And you KNOW it!” Marble screamed inside his head.

“SHUT UP!” Shilar realized he had yelled that out loud. To remedy the scene he’d caused, he pretended to drunkenly drag himself over to the nearest table, sitting down and setting his glass in front of him.

"I hate you, you know," Shilar said, making sure he was talking to Marble inside his head.

“The feeling’s mutual.” Marble continued being silent.

“And to answer your question, no. She is not a monster. But I don’t want to be near mages. She might not do anything to set me off, but her very presence unnerves me. I don’t trust mages. No matter what they do, or how good they say they are. All it takes is a second for a mage to lose it.” Shilar took a sip of his iced vodka, feeling the strong alcohol burn through his throat and pour molten fire into his stomach. He felt better than when he woke up.

“Your problem is that you don’t even want to give mages a chance. You’re so paranoid, you think that each and every one of them has a knife behind their back ready to stab you whenever they feel like it. Even though you spent the last ten years living with me, and I am fascinated by how thick-skulled you can be sometimes.” Marble sounded mad, which was uncommon. Usually, he would just mock Shilar and they would argue with one another.

Both of them were silent for a time, as Shilar took small sips of his drink. It's then when he noticed that he had sat across a rowdy table. Five people sat at that table, drinking cheap beer, screaming and howling in laughter as they told their war stories. Soldiers were usually like that when drunk and surrounded by comrades. Especially when celebrating a victory. Shilar closed his eyes and listened to their conversation – trying to absorb some of their positive energy.

"-We got so much money from this job. I won't stop partying for five days straight!" one of the men said.

“Yeah, like your weak ass could handle anything more than five drinks – tops!” a female voice said, and everyone exploded in another bout of uproarious laughter.

“Who said I was talking about drinking? And before you say I’m weak, you’re the one who passed out after we started having fun!” laughter again.

“Well, forgive me for not considering flaying a fun activity.” The female voice said. Shilar froze. “What the fuck?” he wondered.

“Shut up and listen.” Marble told him.

“Flaying is a little overrated though. Renette is right.” Another male voice said.

“Yeah. I’m more of a decapitation girl, really.” The woman, whose name was Renette said and everyone laughed once again.

“Anyway, the party is going to last so long that not even a squadron of the Emperor’s Finest will be able to force me out of it!” the first guy said.

“I’ll just use that thing you used when you forced that Konquestian family to dig their own graves! Gods, do I love that. I still remember how much they begged us to stop.” The female said, once again, initiating another round of animalistic laughter.

Shilar felt sick. His vision darkened, as images began to flash in front of his eyes. He saw his sister's twisted corpse, laying on the floor. He saw her broken fingers and her wide, terrified eyes, frozen in time. He saw his mother cut in half. "Run." His father's last words echoed in his mind. The sound of a door crashing open filled his mind. Thunder struck. "They begged us to stop!" He heard the female voice repeat. His sister's face flashed in front of his eyes. "You didn't help us. You let us die." She said in her innocent voice. Her face rotten, with tears streaming down her face. "YOU LET US DIE!" she screamed. Shilar felt his stomach sink to the lowest depths, as pain wracked his entire being. He wanted to claw his skin off of his face, he wanted to get out.

“Shilar!”

He saw himself sitting with his family for his seventh birthday. The cake his mother made was delicious. His favorite – with chocolate and strawberries. His mother took up a knife and she cut the cake. But the knife didn't cut the cake – it cut his father. His mother wasn't his mother anymore. Her hair was bone white and her face was the angular, grinning face of the stranger who ruined his life seventeen years ago. "HELLO, BOY!" he sang. Shilar screamed. He felt his mother's last hug around his arms. He cried. His mother cried. "You die for showing defiance." The stranger sung. "You will be silent." No more crying. Images now flashed in front of his eyes – crushing him from the inside. He felt like dying. He felt as if someone had placed a boulder upon his shoulders. “-dig their own graves.” The female voice said. “They begged us to stop!” a multitude of voices said at once.

“Shilar!”

“STOP!” he heard himself scream as he ran towards the stranger who killed his family. He tried to save his sister. “You could have saved me, Shilar! YOU FAILED!” his sister’s rotten corpse screamed at him. “Run!” his father’s voice echoed in his mind. “DEFIANCE BRINGS DEATH, BOY!” the stranger sung.

“SHILAR! GET A FUCKING GRIP!” Marble’s voice thundered in Shilar’s head, dissipating all flashing images. Shilar was shaking.

“Now you listen to me, and you listen to me well. Get up.” Shilar got up, listening to Marble’s words. He felt a marble in his right hand. Perfectly round and smooth.

“Go to their table.” Marble’s laden voice said. Shilar turned around and walked over to the table where the people whose voices he had listened to, sat. They all wore Sredinah Imperial Army uniforms, and they all had a “Military Mage” badge hanging off their chest. “Fucking mages, am I right, Shilar?” Marble said.

“You’re right, Marble. Fucking mages. You can have control now.” Shilar said and closed his eyes. His mouth slowly twisted into a wicked grin. Marble’s grin. His eyes opened, as he opened himself to the flows of Fire and Earth, letting the magic energy of the invisible Ocean of Ruhanaan pour into him like a torrent.

“You’ve been a group of naughty mages, haven’t you?” Marble asked, in his joyful voice. He focused the flows of Fire into the marble he was holding between his fingers, charging it.

“Who the fuck are you?” asked the girl.

“Yeah, who the fucking shit are you?!” said the man whose voice belonged to the one who forced a Konquestian family to dig their own graves, drunkenly slurring each word.

“I’m the one who’s gonna blow your fucking head off.” Marble laughed.

The soldier mages stared at him for a few moments before bursting into laughter. Marble joined them. They all laughed as if they had heard the best joke in the world.

Suddenly, Marble moved faster than anyone could have followed. His fist streaked towards the mage murderer's face. Before his punch connected, Marble opened his hand and threw his entire body weight behind his open-fist strike. The marble that was Charged with magical energy broke through the front row of teeth in the mage’s mouth as Marble’s strike connected. The marble was inside the mage’s mouth.

Marble quickly stepped away and simply said: “Explode.”

Suddenly, the skin of the mage who had a marble in his mouth began to glow, as if someone had lit a beacon inside his throat. He started panicking and clawing at his throat but he wasn't fast enough. The relatively weak explosion was enough to obliterate the mage's head, turning it into a red mist that blew into a shower of bone fragments, brain matter, and blood.

“Like I said. Blow your head off.” Marble grinned at the soldier mages as they all stared at him in disbelief, their faces twisted in fear.

The sound of slow clapping interrupted Marble’s gloating.

“He was one of my finest mages. I’m honestly impressed.” A familiar voice said, in a melodic tune. Almost as if the man who said it had sung the words. Marble’s whole body shivered. He slowly turned around.

The man's right hand had been almost translucent, faintly glowing with a blue color. His bone-white hair fell over his shoulders, completely covering the right side of his face. Marble could see burn scars underneath the hair. He stared at the same angular face that had ruined his life seventeen years ago.

“It can’t be.” Both Shilar and Marble whispered.

“You’ll have to pay for that you know.” The man’s voice sung, in that same, creepy tune. “Disobedient soldiers should be punished. Isn’t that right, Renette?” he asked.

“Yes, First Captain Shiv! Disobedience is the one thing the Imperial Army does not tolerate!” the female voice said.

“Excellent. Now seize him.” He said and turned around to walk away.

Shilar and Marble opened their mouth to scream but that was cut short as something hard struck them in the nape, and their vision blackened.

Three.

Two.

One.

“You got knocked out again.” Shilar’s voice echoed inside of his own head.

“Well, I don’t see how we could not get knocked out – blowing a guy’s head up in a wagon filled with soldiers and all.” Marble replied, clearly annoyed.

“Do not worry. I will take care of it for you.” a third voice replied – deep and angry.

“What in the fuck? Who are you?!” Shilar and Marble yelled, at the same time. An echoing, ominous laughter met them instead of an answer.

Shilar's body slammed headfirst into the wooden floor with a loud thud, in the packed restaurant wagon of the train. Soldiers who were on high alert after Shilar had killed one of their own visibly slackened. Swords were sheathed and some even turned to sit back down in their seats. The man who had ended any prospects that Shilar had at a happy childhood – Captain Shiv – had walked over to his unconscious body. Shiv's eyes, burning with an intense hatred looked at Shilar, who was laying, face-first, and unmoving. "Rockslide, go grab a pair of manacles from our wagon. We wouldn't want him flailing at us once he comes to. Sammy, head to the General's wagon and report the incident. We've lost a Howler." The two soldiers, whose drooping eyelids gave off their drunkenness saluted Shiv and hurried out of the restaurant wagon. "And Renette.” His voice sang. The female soldier’s head snapped to attention towards her commanding officer. “Yes, Captain.” He rubbed his temple with his real hand. “Get me a fuckin’ drink, will ya.” He said, sighing. “Yessir!” she ran off towards the bar.

“Now, what to do with you, my old, old friend?” Shiv sang for himself, in a whispery voice.

Suddenly, Shilar’s hand grabbed onto Shiv’s boot. “Now, things get a little heated.” His voice resembled a jagged, weathered steel blade coming out of its sheath.  

Shiv’s eyes widened in horror, as the leather on his boot started to deform and a smell of burning flesh filled the air. The captain-mage recoiled in fear, throwing himself back. His hands immediately began yanking the boot off of his leg. Shilar's tall figure, clad in the red uniform of the Sredinah Imperial Army, with his left arm enclosed in a cast, rose up and towered above Shiv – who had managed to pry the, now burning, boot off of his leg. His sock was burnt off completely. The skin on his leg was red. Blisters started to form already.

Everyone present in the train wagon stared at the scene in utter shock. In a second, the entire situation descended into chaos.

“KILL HIM!” Shiv screamed from the floor, kicking himself away from Shilar, still holding on to his burnt leg. A new guy, the one to whom the ominous voice belonged to, had taken control of Shilar’s body. He realized this exact thing had happened back in Leandric. Marble got himself knocked out, and out came the third – whose eyes were now glowing with an intense yellow glow, resembling the tip of a burning flame. He slammed his fist into the chest of a nearby soldier, pushing himself back as much as pushing the soldier into a table.

The buttons on the soldier’s uniform exploded at the same time, blowing the man to bits, as well as the table that was behind him. Wood and metal splinters erupted from the destroyed table, blinding another soldier. He collapsed to the floor, screaming and holding his hands over his bloodied face.

The sound of fifteen swords being dragged out of their sheaths filled out the crowded wagon. Some of the soldiers charged at Shilar, who was observing the situation through his eyes (alongside Marble, who considered this to be a form of entertainment, which made Shilar roll his eyes), who was standing with his knees bent in a half-crouch – his posture resembling that of a tiger preparing to lunge at its prey. He launched himself forward, reaching for the head of the soldier right in front of him, who happened to be Renette. He pulled her head towards his rising knee and felt the resulting impact crunch the bones in her face as the kick connected. He was already opened to the flows of Ruhanaan around him, absorbing the flows of Fire and Body like a sponge. He directed them into Renette’s teeth, filling them with molten fire. Her scream was as loud as it was short. And sweet, Shilar thought. Her entire head went ablaze as Shilar watched his body land on top of her collapsed corpse. That's what you get for being a 'decapitation girl', he thought.  A sword lashed out at him. He raised his left, plastered hand and the sword glanced away harmlessly. Another sword came from his right, which he evaded by throwing himself to the left, tackling the first soldier who thrust at him. He wasted no time as his right hand rose and fell upon the man's face with an audible crack, leaving his nose unnaturally twisted. Shilar punched again. And again. And again. The soldier's face was a bloody mess at this point. "SURROUND HIM!" the commanding voice of some ranking officer lashed out at the soldiers.

The crowd around Shilar had shifted. Now, they each took a few steps back, surrounding him between two tables. Shilar got back up on his feet and leveled his gaze at the bewildered and angry soldiers that were encircling him, holding their swords pointed at his chest. Some good that will do against him. Them. Three people in one body. Shilar wanted to sigh, but he wasn't in control of his body at the moment. That made Marble chuckle.

“You ass.” Shilar cursed at him.

Not a few minutes ago, Shilar was unconscious. And now, his eyes glowed like two furnaces, as blood dripped from his closed fist. A moment ago, they were celebrating and drinking to the victory they had attained in Leandric.  Now, they witnessed the brutal deaths of their comrades at the hands of one of their own, which could be argued – Shilar thought. Each and every one of them had murder in their eyes, coupled with fear and hatred, all directed at him. Them. They couldn't even begin to fathom what true, all-consuming hatred actually looked like. Shilar knew that very well. Especially now. Seventeen years later, the World smacks Shilar with a powerful backhanded slap. The mage who killed his family was alive, and serving in the same army he was in. Even holding the rank of captain. Shilar could feel his ravenous hate welling inside of him. That made the third guy, who was in control, growl loudly – which, in turn, made the soldiers cringe backward in fear. Marble snorted. At the back, Shilar could see two Generals sending a soldier out of the restaurant wagon – no doubt to get reinforcements. The train rocked as its wheels latched onto the rails of a tall bridge that connected two ends of a canyon.

“Are you seeing this?” Shilar’s voice echoed inside of his own head. It had a tinge of awe mixed with uneasiness.

“What the hell is this guy?” Marble’s voice echoed back at Shilar.

“I will obliterate them!” The voice that came from Shilar’s mouth was the same deep voice that Shilar had heard in his head after he had woken up from the battle in Leandric.

“I think he said that to us.” Shilar sounded slightly amused.

“It took you a few months to realize you could talk to me without saying anything out loud.” Marble mused.

“Oh put a sock in it, you shitstain.”

“Yes, putting a sock in my metaphorical, disembodied mouth is going to- HEY NEW GUY, LOOK TO YOUR LEFT!” Marble suddenly yelled.

Suddenly their attention snapped to Shiv limping away towards the exit of the restaurant wagon.

“FUCKING KILL HIM!” Shilar screamed.

The third guy – who had been in control of Shilar’s body for the past few minutes – growled in response, grabbing a glass ashtray from the nearest table. He poured flows of Fire and Earth into it, charging the glass object that now glowed with a light orange. His legs shifted slightly, and his shoulder and back muscles tensed up, as his eyes followed Shiv who was limping in front of the bar. He took aim and he prepared himself for a throw.

“This isn’t going to end well.” Marble said simply.

“No wait, STOP!” Shilar screamed, again.

The third guy hurled the ashtray that was now a charged, magical bomb at Shiv.

He missed. Shiv had managed to throw himself at the wagon exit door, removing himself from the projectile’s trajectory. The ashtray slammed into the wall of glass bottles behind the bar – which were all filled with alcohol.

Flammable alcohol.

The ashtray exploded in force, breaking the alcohol bottles that had caught fire while their flammable content sprayed through the air – bolstering the previous detonation even more. Shilar thought that, if by any chance, he manages to survive this, he'll thank Marble for not being recklessly stupid. Or stupidly reckless. Well, he will thank him for not trying to kill them, in any case. The third guy, who was in control of Shilar's body, felt the powerful shockwave of the explosion slam into his chest, like a blacksmith's hammer striking a blade on the anvil, throwing him backward. His back hit something hard and brittle, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

Suddenly, he wasn’t in the wagon anymore. He was plummeting through the air, rushing towards the bottom of the canyon. There was no chance of surviving this fall, Shilar thought. Maybe he wouldn’t have to swallow his pride and thank Marble anyway. Above him, he – as well as the third guy and Marble – could see the restaurant wagon disappear in a huge fireball, as the train entered a tunnel, vanishing from sight.

 “And I thought I was reckless.” Marble said.

Shilar was screaming. Marble howled in laughter.

Shilar felt his bones snap as they hit the cold water of a river that was flowing through the canyon, underneath the bridge.

 

 

 

Shilar sat across his twin brother, Marble. The late afternoon sun had thrown its warm ray across the middle of the table, casting elongated shadows from glasses half-filled with fresh orange juice. Both of the boys were holding up a fan of cards in their hands, often casting suspicious glances over the cards’ rims at one another. They were playing a game of King’s Ass. Shilar was carefully observing his brother, paying attention to subtle eye movements that might give Marble away. His brother, knowing that this was a game of watching the opponent, furrowed his brows and intentionally scowled. Shilar was holding in his laughter because Marble’s face became increasingly funny to look at, the more he held the same expression. Marble’s eyebrows suddenly twitched and Shilar screamed: “KINGS ASS!” slamming down a card which had the naked bottom of a king painted on its face. At the same time, Marble’s face twisted into a wry smile and he shouted: “JOKER’S SASS!” as he slapped a card with a grinning jester on it.

“Oh damn you. Not again.” Shilar’s shoulders slumped as his brother’s eyebrow twitch tricked him into thinking he was going to win. For the fifth time this afternoon. When playing a game of King’s Ass, one cannot know whether or not the opponent is lying, so one must always be prepared to act. Shilar just didn’t like losing as much as he did.
“It’s your fault for falling for the eyebrow trick every time.” Marble stroked his chin thoughtfully. “The fact that we’re twins baffles me.”

“And why’s that?” Shilar was already shuffling the deck of cards, preparing for another round.

“Because you’re such a gigantic idiot. Ready to lose, again?” Marble grinned.

“We’ll see who the idiot is after I smack your lame face.” Shilar was dealing the cards.

“We have the same face.”

“Nu-uh. You’re the ugly one.”

Both of them scowled at each other and Marble started yelling: “Mom! Shilar told me I look like a pimpled ass of a limping donkey!”

"Marble's lying!" Shilar yelled in response "But you do look like…whatever you just said." And he burst into laughter.

They spent the next half an hour playing King’s Ass, and Shilar managed to win two rounds. Marble won the other seven. The two brothers were sitting, splayed across their chairs with Marble twirling his glass, and intensely looking at the tiny vortex that would appear on the surface of his juice. Shilar was staring at the ceiling for a while. He felt that something was off. This was not his life, he realized. He never had a brother. His eyes started darting around the room. This isn't even his house, he thought. He looked at Marble, only to find him replaced by someone else. His sister – he realized. Her skin was grey, sagging off of her face and limbs. Her eye sockets were empty and a wicked, lipless grin was on her face. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME, SHILAR?!" she suddenly screeched, her voice sounding like crumbling gravel. "HELP ME!" a black liquid gushed out of her mouth, dripping all over the floor.

Suddenly, a massive iron bull, with burning yellow eyes, burst into the room, leaving a gaping hole in the wall of the house. Pieces of brick and stone flew across the room, breaking glass and tearing through his sister’s corpse, ripping her to bits. Its hooves left scorch marks on the wooden floor, and steam hissed from its mouth.

“SAVE ME!” the dismembered corpse of his sister screamed in the moment the rampaging iron bull smashed through the table, crushing Shilar under its flaming hooves.

Shilar’s eyes opened weakly. His body was burning up. His vision was cloudy. He saw silhouettes of neatly stacked objects on the shelf that was mounted on the wall in front of him. He shuddered. A cold, damp cloth dabbed his forehead a few times. He tried to turn his head, but felt that was too much effort at the moment. “There, there. It was only a bad dream.” He heard a female voice speak above him. “M-mom?” he managed to squeeze the words out of his dried mouth. The female voice said something to him, as a silhouette of a woman came into his eyeshot. His vision faded and he fell unconscious once again.

"Shilar! Lunchtime!" his mother's voice echoed across the backyard. Shilar was playing with a rubber ball, bouncing it off of the shed's wall. He looked at the sky and saw a bird who had bright, red wings and a long, trailing feather tail that swirled and snaked behind it, changing its colors as it reflected sunlight.  A Tarbonian eagle, Shilar thought. It’s probably hunting for food, but it shouldn’t be this far in Sredinah. The trouble with Tarbonian eagles was that they were as tall as an average teenager and Shilar thought that perhaps he might become its next prey. He quickened his pace, running over to his front door. He watched the large eagle soar towards the mountains to the South. “Shilar! Lunch!” his mother’s voice came from inside the house.
“I’m coming!” he yelled in response, entering inside.

His father was talking to his older brother, Marble. They were discussing the latest politics of the Empire. "I heard there's a war coming with Siewersk sometime soon. I got it from very good sources that there have been mobilizations near the Northern border." Marble leaned to the left, as their mother set down an empty plate in front of him. He was a large man, hardy and strong from years spent in the Sredinah military. Shilar wanted to become like him when he grew up. Their mother gently smacked Marble on the head. "What did I tell you? No war talk at the dinner table." And continued on, dishing out plates to the rest of them. "Yes, mother. I am sorry. No war talk." And Marble smiled, as he continued to whisper other news from around the Empire to his father. Shilar's sister, who was four years older than him carried a steaming pot of something that smelled beautifully. He could recognize steamed potatoes, and a sweet smell of meat marinated in a combination of spice. Shilar knew his mother was an amazing cook and this smelled like something directly out of a Selmani kitchen. He has read his encyclopedias, and the Sultanate was the number one place he wanted to visit on his travel list. Just because of the food. He promised himself he would try as much food as he could muster once he manages to reach Selman.

“Hey Shil, how have you been buddy?” Marble asked him.

“Fine.” Shilar sighed. “School’s out. I’ve been on holiday for a few days and I’m already bored.” He shrugged his shoulders.

“I would be bored if I spent the whole day loitering around like a piece of wood. There’s work to be done around the house.” His mother quipped.

Shilar looked offended. “You didn’t tell me I needed to do anything!”

“I’m not going to tell you what you’re supposed to do. You have to come and ask: dear mother, do you need any help, what can I help you with?” she was stirring something in another pot.

Shilar grumbled to himself. “Okay.” He said out loud. His sister ruffled his hair before she sat down next to Shilar.

“Are you practicing the sword?” Marble asked again.

“Oh yes! Just like you showed me.” Shilar was beaming. In truth, his swordsmanship was the only thing he was keen on doing this summer. He wanted to become an expert swordsman, like his brother. And he wanted to challenge that bully, Syconian, to a duel in front of the school – and win. Last time he got his ass kicked and he has been motivated to learn proper sword fighting ever since.

 

“That’s good. Knowing how to fight is something everyone should know. We live in dangerous times, kiddo. One day, I won’t be around to defend you and you will have to rely on yourself.” Marble winked at Shilar and clapped his hands when their mother let down the second pot on the table. “Did I miss my beautiful mother’s cooking!” he exclaimed happily. Mom smiled at him and sat down next to Marble.

“Time to say a prayer to the Father of Light, may his eternal blessings shine upon this family.” Shilar’s father said, putting his hands across his chest. Everyone else did the same.

“May He guide us and protect us!”
“May He!” they all chanted in unison.

“May He show us the path in the darkness!”
“May He!”

“May He guide us home and save us from a violent death!”
“Save us!” everyone except Shilar said.

"Those who show defiance, die!" his father said. Shilar opened his eyes and saw blood gushing out of his father's mouth. His chest had a gaping hole in the middle of it, and his pristine white shirt had now been soaked in crimson.

“Take your brother and go!” his mother had been cut in half, with her legless torso mounted atop the table. She had a wild look in her eyes, as bloody tears streaked down her eyes.

"You failed us, brother. You let him go! His sister's bloated, rotting corpse that was sitting next to him howled. Her throat was mangled and the skin stretched out to inhuman proportions. Her voice rasped, like a saw that was trying to go through a stone brick. "HELP ME, SHILAR!" the corpse screamed, flailing her arms at Shilar.

“Save us!”

“You failed!”

“DIED! WE DIED!”

“HELP!”

All of their voices came at him from a thousand different directions, it seemed. They boomed and echoed in the dining room, throwing Shilar off of his chair. He screamed as tears ran down his face. "I'm sorry." He sobbed into his hands.

“Shilar.” A voice called to him.

“I’m sorry! I failed you! I couldn’t…I…sorry.” He kept bawling.

“Shilar!” the voice repeated.

“I COULDN’T HAVE DONE ANYTHING! I WAS TOO WEAK!” Shilar screamed.

“SHILAR!” the voice boomed loudly, rattling Shilar and snapping him out of his angst-ridden delirium.

He turned his head to look towards the voice and saw nothing. He was alone, sitting in the middle of the expanse of an endless void. It was like staring into a chasm of nothingness. A darkness that enveloped and swallowed all light. It filled Shilar with absolute horror, as he shuddered, wrapping his arms tightly around his knees.

Suddenly, a thundering laughter echoed everywhere across Shilar. He clamped his hands over his ears, but the laughter echoed inside of his mind. A sound akin to thunder boomed to his right, and to his left. Massive tentacles that had a blue sheen to them erupted from two sides – growing to impossible heights. Rising up towards the non-existent sky above Shilar. They towered overhead, when hundreds of tiny tendrils burst from the surface of the two colossal tentacles and they all streaked towards Shilar. The tendrils wrapped around his arms, his legs, and his torso – squeezing him and crushing his bones underneath. Shilar screamed in pain.

A singing voice resounded in the void, drilling into Shilar's mind – filling him with anxiety. "WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE?" in front of Shilar, who was bound with tendrils that periodically tightened their grip, crushing Shilar's already crushed body, even more, a face materialized out of thin air. It was the face of the mage who tore Shilar's childhood into pieces. It was the face of a monster in the body of a man. It was the face of a murderer.

It was Shiv. And he was laughing.

His eyes were glowing with an intense violet light, and Shilar could see cracks appearing all over his gigantic, monstrous face. His features began to slightly warp and skew, angling Shiv's eyes – his teeth becoming sharp and pointy, his skin suddenly covered with a slick, reflective surface as a strange ooze dripped off of Shiv's monstrous face. His mouth twisted into a malevolent grin as he screamed at Shilar. Suddenly, the right half of his face erupted into fire. Shiv's disembodied, giant head was shrieking in pain. "YOU DID THIS TO ME! YOU RUINED MY FACE YOU LITTLE BASTARD! I WILL KILL YOU! I WILL EAT YOUR CORPSE!" he kept on screaming. Shilar felt his arms snap like twigs – but he didn't feel any pain at it. His entire body was a mangled mess of flesh and bones, yet he treated it as nothing special. He saw his blood gush out between the wrapped tendrils, as Shiv's flaming face stopped burning and he stopped screaming.

The right side of his face was covered in horrible blisters. Pieces of skin were missing. His upper lip was no more, leaving a large, cauterized gash in his face through which you could see his blackened gums and teeth. His eyelids were gone, leaving a blind eye to stare at Shilar. He knew that the eye couldn’t see but Shilar shuddered, as he felt Shiv’s vileness creep into his skin.

“YOU FAILED TO KILL ME, BOY. BUT YOU RUINED MY FACE, AND FOR THAT YOU WILL PAY.”

A third tentacle, as massive as the other two erupted from Shiv’s blinded eye, and the tip of it jammed itself through Shilar’s mouth. Flashing images of his sister being choked by Shiv’s tendrils filled him with rage and sadness. But he was powerless. His body was ruined. And he couldn’t breathe. He felt the tentacle force its way through his tiny throat, ripping Shilar into a thousand tiny pieces.

Shiv’s melodic laughter echoed in his ears, as his vision winked out completely.

Shilar’s eyes fluttered open. He was soaked in cold sweat. He usually has nightmares, but this one was simply dreadful. His eyes stopped at the wooden ceiling above him, and he was lying in bed. He felt weak. Moving his head to the side took a lot of effort, and he barely did it. He was in a bed, inside a small hut. Through the windows, he saw trees swaying in the wind, as grey clouds dotted the sky. He was thirsty. His mouth felt like a barren wasteland that hadn’t seen rainfall in decades. That small movement with his head loosened up his neck muscled somewhat, and he was able to now slowly move his head around. His body hurt, he realized. As if a gigantic animal had chewed him up, crushing his bones and insides, and then spit him out on a jagged rocky hillside.

He groaned. “Wh-where the h-hell am I?” he rasped, talking to himself. The left side of his face felt as if someone had stretched the skin from his cheekbone to his chin, as opening his mouth tightened the skin on the left side of his face. It felt good to know he could talk, at least, because everything else beyond moving his head and opening his mouth felt like an impossible task. “Fuck. I hope I didn’t break my spine.” He thought to himself and listened. Marble wasn't there. Or he was ignoring Shilar. “Hiding.” He tried to chuckle, but that sent a jolt of pain from his stomach and he cramped up. “Oh that’s stupid!” he said through gritted teeth.

"Finally!" a female voice exclaimed, startling Shilar. "Fu-" he tried to curse, but the lady cut him short. "You're finally awake. Thank the gods, I was beginning to think you wouldn't wake up from that one." She came into his field of view. She was a very pleasant-looking old lady, with her greying hair neatly tied into a long ponytail that dropped over her right shoulder. Her face was smiling, but he could see that her eyebrows were furrowed not moments ago. Her clothes were simple, yet neat and tidy. But there was something about her eyes that Shilar couldn't quite put together. Something was off, and judging by his nightmares – that's usually not a good sign.

“Are…are you real?” he asked her.

The old lady started laughing. “Ah, dear boy. I assure you, I am as real as real gets.”

She held her gaze on him for a few moments. “They usually start with ‘Who are you?’. Or they recoil in confusion. Try to get away from me, and such things.”

“I can’t say I’d be any different. It’s just that there’s this small issue of me not being able to move.” Shilar grumbled. “On that note, who are you?”

“I’m the one who has been taking care of you for the last four weeks.” She said flatly.

Shilar felt stunned. “F-four…weeks?” his voice was shaky.

“Indeed. It has been almost a month. Truth be told, it’s a miracle you were alive when you washed up in front of me. I was doing laundry.”

“Laundry?” What is this lady talking about? He thought to himself.

“Yes, boy. Washing dirty clothes and then drying them so they may be worn again.” She had a smirk in the corner of her lips.

Shilar’s stomached groaned. Suddenly, a wave of intense hunger washed over him, as his body slowly started regaining its senses.

“You woke up right on time. Dinner is about to be ready.” She got up and walked over to the stove. Shilar’s nostrils flared as he smelled the scent of home cooking. It reminded him of home, and the image of a woman being busy over a stovetop reminded him of his mother. How long has it been? He thought, nostalgically. Tears welled up in his eyes.

In a few moments, the woman walked over to the table that was in the corner of the room, placing a steaming pot on it. Shilar’s stomach growled once again. The woman walked over to him and removed the sheet that he was covered with. He was shocked to see that his body was covered in bandages. From head to toe. His previously broken left arm was wrapped up in some plant-like material. He was happy to learn that he could move his fingers. There were two wooden boards on each side of his right leg, tied tightly by multiple ropes.

“How bad was it?” he asked.

“Both of your arms were badly broken. Your left arm managed not to get much mangled due to the cast that was around it, but the cast got broken as well. Your leg was bent the other way, broken in a few places. Your ribs took the most damage, honestly. Seven of them were broken, and one was sticking out of your chest. One punctured your lungs and you had a lot of internal bleeding. Oh and…” she stopped. “Well, I’ll let you see that one for yourself.”

Shilar’s eyes were open and his mouth was hanging agape. The sheer amount of injuries he had sustained from the fall left him in utter disbelief. “How the hell am I still alive?” he managed to ask.

“If you had washed up a few hours later, you would have been beyond my ability to save. But give it a few more days, and you’ll be able to sit.” She took a pillow from the edge of his bed. She carefully lifted his head up and stuffed the pillow under his neck. “Try moving your right arm.” She said.

He looked at his bandaged arm and tried to lift it up. Fingers moved, then the wrist. Then he managed to slightly raise it before he felt too weak to continue, so he let it drop back on the bed. He tried again, but the arm wouldn’t budge.

"I…can't," he admitted.

“Your muscles are in shock, after not being used for such a long time. Well, it is not a big problem.” She walked over to the table, poured a ladle of the contents from the pot into a bowl, and walked back to him. “Slowly now. It’s soup.”

He felt embarrassed. And he was hungry. I gotta eat, he decided finally and opened his mouth when the lady fed him a spoonful of hot soup.

The warmth spreading throughout his body was pleasant. More than pleasant. It felt amazing. When’s the last time you thought food was amazing, Shilar? It’s been years. He ate the soup in a matter of minutes. The hunger had calmed down somewhat, but he was still very hungry. His eyes flickered to the pot on the table and the lady seemed to take notice of that. Wordlessly, she got up and refilled the bowl. He ate the second bowl, as well. And a third.

To his surprise, the pain he felt subsided significantly. He felt a comfortable warmth in his stomach, as strength started to return to his limbs, albeit, very slowly. He sighed. Thank the lady, you buffoon. He reminded himself.

“I…I don’t…thank you. Very much. Thank you.” He stuttered.

"Don't worry about it, boy. I am glad you're finally awake. And alive, after all, you've been through." She smiled at him, and her gentle smile that radiated with genuine care made something well up inside of him. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. That smile reminded him of his mother, once again. He wanted to cry. After so many years spent burying his emotions, feeling nothing but scorn for the World and everyone in it, this act of sincere kindness shook him. He stifled a sob, as more tears came rolling down his face.

"My name is Leisha. You may call me Isha if you want."

He started sobbing. Isha was the name of his dear mother. He shook, unable to stop the tears. She reached out towards the fingers of his left hand and gently squeezed them. “It’s okay. Let it all out.” She said gently. He wanted to stop bawling in front of lady Isha, but the years of repressed memories and emotion came flooding back to him in a wave that was threatening to crush him, and the only way to prevent that was to keep crying.

Long minutes passed, and his loud sobs turned into shaky gasps as he started calming down. Eventually, he took one long, deep breath and sniffed. His face was wet with tears, and Isha wiped it with a soft cloth. “You should try to get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.” She gave him another warm smile and walked over to the kitchen. He blinked the remaining tears away.

"I'm Shilar." He said softly. Then, he closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift off to sleep while thinking about his mother. The memory of her beautiful face, framed by bronze locks flooded into his mind, as he quietly sobbed.

Shilar woke to the feeling of damp warmth around his crotch. The morning sky was a blend of violet and blue. “I pissed myself. Great.” He muttered. He tried moving his right arm, and to his surprise, it lifted off from the bed. Not effortlessly, but he managed to hold it up. He opened and closed his fist, as he felt blood rush into his limb. He tried moving his left leg, and it, too, moved. Is this smart? He thought, as he moved the leg closer to the edge of the bed. I’d rather die than let an old lady change me after I, triumphantly, soiled myself. I’m in such a sorry state. He pushed his leg off of the bed and lowered it to the floor. His bare foot landed on the carpet and he was thankful that it didn't make any noise. Now, to try to get up. He braced himself, and moved his hand underneath his back, to use it as a lever. He pushed once, and his body moved. His muscles screamed and he grit his teeth against the pain. Still, he pushed again, and he managed to move even more. His left arm was broken at the forearm, as he had no visible bandaging above his elbow. That’s good. At least I can move my broken forearm out of the way. He managed to bend his arm and place it against his body. His right hand quivered as he pushed against the bed, and on the second try, he managed to push himself off.

Not good. He realized, as he smacked into the floor, face-first. He managed to move the broken arm away from his body so he wouldn’t crush it, as the rest of his torso slammed into the hard floor. Lucky, there’s a carpet. He grit his teeth and squealed in pain as quietly as he could. If lady Isha woke up and saw him like this, she would probably be angry.

“I see you’re as dumb as always.” Marble’s sudden words startled Shilar.

"Eat shit," Shilar grumbled in response.

“How are you going to get up, genius?”

“I’ll manage.”

Shilar heard Marble scoff dismissively.

Alright, I need to flip myself over. Shilar braced his healthy arm against the floor. He was glad at least one of his arms healed, because he wouldn’t be able to attempt this idiocy if both of his arms were still healing. He pushed, with all the strength he could muster, managing to get himself tilted away from the floor for a second. Until, his arm shuddered dangerously and gave out, as he slumped back to the floor.

“I knew that was going to happen.” Marble chided.

Shilar breathed heavily. This stunt has caused his little gathered strength to wink out, and he was just left lying on the floor, with his face buried in the carpet. At least, it’s a soft one. He wanted to laugh, but his pained stomach reminded him that laughing wouldn’t be such a great idea at the moment.

He was startled by the sound of a door opening and a loud gasp. “What have you done, you foolish boy?!” lady Isha’s scolded him. There was a string of fear in her voice. Something thumped on the table, and she hurried over to his side.

“I’m alive.” He said, his voice muffled by the carpet.

“Of course you’re alive. Heavens, you scared me for a moment.” Her voice already calmed down. “Let’s get you back on the bed.” She walked away, and after a brief sound of rummaging, and a wooden thump, Shilar heard she was dragging something heavy back with her.

"Can you move?" she asked him. He turned his head and saw her putting down a large stretcher next to him. She had worried over her face.

“A little.” He wasn’t sure, but he was going to try.

“Okay. I want you to just assist me as best you can. I need to push this underneath you.” She said, and took hold of his shoulder with one hand, as her other hand rested on the stretcher.

“Here I go.” She told him, and pushed his shoulder upwards. He grit his teeth and used his back and shoulder muscles to lift his upper torso as much as he could. Luckily, it worked and the first half of the stretcher was quickly underneath him. She walked over and moved his legs onto the bottom half of the stretcher herself.

“Not long ago, we took on an entire army – and won. Now, an old lady is moving us around.” Marble grumbled.

“Is your pride hurt?” Shilar chuckled.

“I am merely stating the facts.” The mage sounded annoyed.

"Don't do anything stupid," Shilar warned him.

“Like what? What stupid thing could I do at this moment Shilar? Huh? What is it that you possibly think I am going to do?” Marble sneered.

“I don’t-“

“Oh spare me. Here you go with your mage prejudice, again. After ten years of being trapped together, one would think that you have a good idea about what I would and wouldn’t do. Or are you incapable of even that? Do you hate me so much that you completely ignore me until the moment your sorry ass feels threatened, when you call me out to save you? Well?” Marble was yelling. For the first time, Marble was angrily yelling at Shilar, in a tone that spoke of annoyance and disappointment.

“Wait, I-“ Shilar tried to speak once again, but Marble interrupted again.

“I am tired of being treated like a fucking monster every time I open my mouth. No, Shilar, I won’t kill the old lady. I won’t destroy her house and I won’t lose control. I am not a damn psychopath. I AM NOT LIKE SHIV!” Marble’s voice quivered.

“I-I never said you were. I don’t hate you, Marble. Not anymore. I...I’m just afraid. He’s alive. And I am afraid. If it weren’t for that third guy, Light knows what would’ve happened to us. By rights, we should’ve been dead, but here we are.”

Marble was silent. “Fine.” He said, and Shilar felt him retreat to whatever corner of his mind Marble inhabits. He suddenly felt that he wasn’t on the floor anymore, but back in the bed. Arguing with Marble was never this intense, and he never lost track of time and space. They were mostly brief exchanges between the two of them. They rarely had a conversation, albeit short, it was something. Shilar noticed that lady Isha had stripped his soiled undergarments, and was cleaning him. That sent a spasm of shock through his spine and he croaked.

“NO, WAIT!” he tried to catch one of her hands, but she just casually swatted his arm away as if it was an annoying fly.

“Oh, calm yourself.” She rolled her eyes. “Shame is a good thing to have, dear boy, but I have spent the last four weeks taking care of you.” And she eyed him. He realized that this was not the first time she was doing this. He felt his face burning up. Such intense shame came over him that he just wanted to crawl into a hole and die. He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out.

“Besides, I’ve seen members in worse state than yours. You’re lucky it’s intact, seeing how you managed to almost break your entire body.” She was changing the bandages around his left thigh, where he saw two large scars running down from hip to knee. What the hell happened to me? He wondered.

“I remember that I had a man come to me, and there was an arrow stuck through his...” and she gestured at Shilar’s crotch “…you know.”

“Ironically, he would never be ‘as straight as an arrow’ from that point on. After I finished the operation, it was bent to the left.” She laughed. That made Shilar loosen up. Until he realized that she had a guy with an arrow stuck through his penis come to her.

“Where the f…” he stopped himself from cursing. “…did you find…such an injury?” he asked, genuinely curious.

"The battlefield." She said shortly, as she finished re-bandaging his leg, and covering his crotch. "I was a field medic." Her eyes wandered off, looking somewhere in the past, as memories unfurled in her mind. And Shilar saw that her eyes were much older, and wiser, than her face initially let on. “But that was in another life. A long story.” She covered him with a blanket.

Some time passed. They had breakfast, where Shilar managed to sit up on the bed and eat by himself – which was a massive improvement from yesterday. After breakfast, Shilar was sitting and looking through the window that was near the bed. His eyes were met with a forested landscape. Sredinah Mountains were far off in the distance, towards the North, stretching in a range over the horizon as long as the eye could see. It was autumn, and the forest was dotted with orange, red and green. Trees were shedding their green crowns, leaving their branches bare – like crooked hands reaching towards the sky. It was a vivid color, as dirty-white clouds spanned across its silvery-blue expanse.

“It’s beautiful here.” He said.

“And peaceful. Aside from an occasional drifter in the river.” She laughed. “It really is a nice life. I’m not troubled by the greater politics of lesser men. No one is bothering me. My friends have long since died, and I have no family. The days go by one by one, and I take them as they come. I’m an old woman already.” She sighed. “At my age, you enter the point of life when you just start waiting for your time, you know? You wake up and wonder if today is the day.”

“My old uncle used to say that all the time. Waiting for his life to trickle out so he can finally get some rest.” Shilar chuckled. “And when he did die, he died with a smile on his face. I was a very young boy when that happened. At the time, I thought my uncle was not exactly right there, in the head.” And Shilar tapped a finger against his temple. “But, after all this time, I can finally understand him. Life is…hard.” He sighed painfully. His eyes hardened as Shiv’s laughter echoed in his head. He felt cold, all of a sudden. Sleepy.

"Forgive me, lady Isha. For the stunt, I tried to pull this morning. It was reckless of me."

“You are forgiven. But don’t try to do it again. Even after four weeks, you’re still very heavy, and my old bones cannot really drag you around much. Rest now.” She saw his drooping eyelids, and he was thankful she excused him. His eyes closed and he drifted off.

The next few days were extremely straining for Shilar. He was struck with fever, losing the little strength he thought he had regained. Lady Isha diligently watched over him, doing her best to lower his fever. She cooked and fed him when he was too weak to eat himself, as a watchful, worried mother taking care of her sick son. His dreams were ravenous, eating at him from the inside. His memory played the night when his family died over and over again. He screamed and thrashed in his sleep. When he was awake, he stared through the window, watching autumn take over the forest, little by little. Trees swayed in the wind, birds flocked to the South, flying somewhere warm and comfortable. The weather grew colder, and Shilar’s blankets increased in quantity. He hated himself, for being a burden. He hated himself for being too weak to take care of himself – having an unknown lady who was unnecessarily kind to him – spent her time and strength making sure that he had everything he needed. If he survives this, he thought, he would do whatever she asked of him in return. Even if he had to dig through rock with his own hands, he would do it. He dreamt of his mother and her gentle face. He dreamt of his family, seated around a table, smiles on their faces. He dreamt of Shiv, and he watched him get away from justice for the second time. His nightmare, where he was trapped in the void as Shiv tore him to pieces, replayed in his dreams over and over again.

Until the ninth day of his fever. The final day.

He dreamt up that same nightmare. He was in the void, as corrupted images of his deceased family members assailed his mind. Those images were suddenly replaced by two gigantic tentacles that enveloped him, and Shiv's ginormous head which mocked him, sneered at him, and threatened to kill him as the tentacles crushed him into nothingness. Until – they didn't.

Shilar's limbs were broken in a hundred places as the tentacles tightened their hold beyond reason. Suddenly, a bright flash of light illuminated Shiv's gigantic head from behind. An aura of shimmering, radiant fire surrounded it and Shiv's eyes bulged. They were pushed out of his repulsive face and the oily skin started to boil. The surface of Shiv's face boiled, as his bulging eyes began to melt out of his eye sockets. His screaming was deafening, yet Shilar felt elation at hearing that sound. The very same scream Shiv made when Shilar destroyed his arm, all those years ago. Shiv's head inflated and deformed and it kept growing and growing before it exploded into tens of thousands of tiny pieces, turning into a red mist. The blackness of the void that surrounded Shilar burst, and the tentacles that were crushing him vanished. He dropped onto grass. A beautiful, lush, green valley surrounded him as far as the eye can see – in all directions. Bright, green blades of grass gently swayed in the cool breeze that made Shilar feel calm. His body was no longer crushed. He sat up and looked at the glowing light in front of him. The light that destroyed Shiv's horrid apparition. The brightness subsided, fading out and leaving behind a figure of a man. Shilar recognized his own figure immediately. But there was something different about his own posture. The Shilar in front of him stood proud, his chest held high with body language that commanded presence. Shilar watched the other Shilar step forward and walk over to him. Every step the other Shilar took radiated confidence. It was a sight to behold – Shilar saw himself walk with the gait of a fearsome general who was stepping towards victory. Then Shilar saw the other Shilar's eyes.

They were white-hot. They glowed like steel that had just come out of a blacksmith's furnace. And the other Shilar's expression was calm. Like the placid face of a lake over which no winds blow. Under which nothing moved. He felt heat radiate off of this other Shilar, filling Shilar with vigor he never knew he had, emanating confidence. Suddenly, the other Shilar's eyes changed their glow to a bright yellow, then to a smoldering orange. They were the color of a warm fireplace. His lips twisted into a wry grin as he stuck his hand out to Shilar.

“Time to wake up, Shilar.” Marble’s voice. Shilar never thought he would be so happy hearing the voice of the mage who lived inside his head, but here he is.

"Thank you, Marble," Shilar whispered, grabbing the hand of the man who stood in front of him.

 

 

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