Journal in a New World, Part 1
āI thought I was done with this this way of living. Ā But youā¦ Well, you showed me that Iām not. Ā We all leave our mark on the world, big and small. Ā Thank you for reminding me of this.ā
- LƔmh na Folah
I donāt really recall when it started, if I were to be honest. Ā This uneasy feeling of loss.
A new world, a new beginning. Ā A fresh start.
That is what I told myself after having followed Lariadne when she had gotten lost through the portal. Ā That is what I told her, promised her, when we found ourselves as strangers in a strange land, reshaped and altered by the journey. Ā We carried the core of ourselves over from what was into what now is, keeping with us the most crucial aspects of ourselves. Ā And though a few things worked differently, there was still enough familiarity present to make us feel right at home.
Gone were the sins, the problems of what was.
And though there were new sins, fresh trouble in this new world, they were nothing compared to what came before.
I donāt think I ever fully told her what it was like, living as a creature of two world, apart from either and yet yearning to belong. Ā It never really came up. Ā To me, she was my home, my world, my guiding star. Ā With her, I had what I had felt missing for so many decades.
It should have been enough. Ā And, I suppose, it was. Ā But there was something missing. Ā Something that my other half strived to help me find. Ā Something that seemed to counter my morality, my sense of justice.
Back then, I started as a monster pretending to be a man, finding and fighting men who pretended to be monsters. Ā And for a time, I was at peace with this. Ā But then, I found other monsters, masquerading as men. Ā Creatures that toyed with lives in games of their own making. Ā And as I tried to fight them, I began to lose the part of me that was mortal. Ā To fight monsters, I turned more and more to that part of me that was like them. Ā I needed to better understand, to get ahead of their games.
I hold little remorse for what I did. Ā I killed, but I always justified it.
They deserved it.
They were doing more harm than good.
They were Evil.
Butā¦ a Life is a life. Ā A soul a soul. Ā A flame that I intentionally snuffed out. Ā The reason didnāt matter. Ā I should have felt guilt, and a small part of me did, but in truth, it barely impacted me. Ā They were prey, I was the predator. Ā I could sugarcoat it any which way I wanted, but at my heart of hearts, I knew the score.
I killed because I could.
And the realization nearly tore me apart.
And here I am again, witnessing the horrors that mortals can bring upon themselves. Ā Harming themselves and others. Ā Some for profit. Ā Some for the pleasure. Ā And others still because they just want the world to hurt like they do. Ā The reasons are more numerous that the stars in the sky, each a tiny pinpoint of light in an ever expansive void. Ā Insignificant against the growing darkness.
What can one do against this but rage?
And the Gods know, I can rage.
Which, I suppose, brings us to the present moment.
Slavers are nothing new to any world with sentience. Ā Itās normally something hidden in the shadows, something you have to dig to find. Ā You donāt expect it to stand bold and proud, and yet, this day, that is exactly what I found. Ā A village pillaged and burned, friends and family killed, survivors chained and shackled, spirits all but broken. Ā They had no hope for salvation. Ā No thought towards freedom or a life that was their own. Ā They had everything robbed from them, including their very souls.
I thought I could put it out of my mind. Ā I was a stranger here. Ā This was not my home, not my lands, not my people or interest.
I was wrong.
So I returned to the market, learned what I could from the hired help, disposed of them, fed off their blackened souls. Ā And as much as I want to make monsters of these men, many had families. Ā Significant others. Ā Children. Ā And yet, they made their coin by destroying lives, in much crueler fashions than I had taken theirs. Ā I could feel their sense of loss, regret, shame, joys, pleasures, all of it swirling and blending as I devoured everything that made them what they were.
And then, I left their lifeless bodies to rot in the gutters they peddled mortal flesh in.
I freed their captives, their empty eyes turning to fear and confusion as I gave them the means the rebuild their lives. Ā Some were appreciative. Ā Many, however, had nowhere to go and remained in their cages, lost in their own broken misery. Ā A few even asked that I do to them what I had done to their captors.
I devoured their misery, giving them a final peace, letting them finally find the bliss that had eluded them for so long.
I do not regret what I did.
I mourn for the loss, but that is all.
We all leave our mark on the world, big and small. Ā And if I was no exception to this, then I was going to leave a mark I could be proud of. Ā Somethingā¦ artistic. Ā Something that reminded me of what was. Ā Something that could show others what could be.
And so, before I was finished, I took the bodies of the slavers, setting them in the cages, removed the skin from their hands, reshaping the flesh into flowers laid upon their chests.
And for those who were too broken to carry on living, who begged me for death, I took away. Ā I cleaned them, wrapped them carefully, and took their broken bodies to a place I knew would place them properly to rest. Ā If any had family yet still living, I hoped this would bring them peace as well. Ā And for those monstrous men had left behind, I hoped the warnings I left would not go unheeded. Ā That if any followed in their steps, they too would find themselves prey to the Crimson Hand, a monster who gave them a beautiful and tragic death.
