QuiteTheSlacker
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Chapter 65: I Am a Monster
🕑 Added 2024-08-16 08:53:59 +0000 UTC“Sarathiel confided in me his trauma, desperately hoping for some manner of salvation or reprieve. And I wished so dearly to give it to him, but… I failed. There were no words I could say: no manner of comfort that could mask the horror writ across my face. The man before me was once my precious junior, but I could no longer view him the same after his confession. I only idled by as our friendship slowly grew apart.
“It is, to this day, my greatest failure. He did not deserve such treatment, such apathy after having poured his heart, and there were no excuses for the way I behaved then. I just… couldn’t look past his actions. I knew it was not his fault, I knew there was little that could have been done in such a situation, yet my body betrayed my mind. It shivered in fear before Sarathiel’s presence.”
Lorelai Principality, Former Throne of Polus
———
Sarathiel
What… was I doing before? My mind is hazy. I feel akin to a prisoner in their own home, clawing at a fog that refuses to part. I search for answers, yet all I grasp are fragments: pieces of something important.
A name surfaces: Nokron. I remember him now, a scum I thought cornered. His throat was within my grasp, but then—an explosion. One moment I was on the muddy battlefield, and then there was only a black mist. I closed my eyes, fought back against the whispers, and now I am here.
Here, in the desert of my nightmares.
A hot squall of air forces its way into my throat. I swallow, but no saliva remains, leaving my dry, shrunken tongue to pant greedily like a parched mongrel. It thirsts for water, sputters in pitiful gulps, but all that lies ahead are mounds and mounds of sand. Some are big and steep - like a mountain - while others taper off into pits that look as if they could swallow a man whole. It would be easy to walk into one, for the sun drowns all in a blinding wreath of white, and the only recourse is to shadow your eyes and pray your steps do not sink.
But I dare not move. I do not wish to see, to hear, to even think of the reality around me. This is surely a trick from that blasted Alchemist; he wants me to despair, but his schemes will not work no matter how he uses my memories. As long as I remain still, then this horrid place will eventually disappear. I have to believe it; I have to delude myself no matter how unreasonable.
I can remain strong… as long as they do not appear.
“Hah? Sarathiel, what’re ya standin’ around for? Don’t tell me the nerves are comin’ already!”
But despite my wishes, a voice from the past shouts with an excited gusto from behind. A loud smack hits my side, and when I turn around, I see the face of the one I have wronged most.
“… Bella?” I say, half with dread and the other a pathetic delight. “It’s you.”
“Who else would I be? You’re actin’ real strange right now. Come on, give me a big ‘ol smile! Ain't nothin’ better than a positive attitude to chase away the gloom.”
She playfully leans against my shoulder, and I see her short, curly hair, brown like the forest trees we’d always play near as children. Her eyes are as I remember them: a refreshing shade of green, sparkling with a vibrant affection for life. And though the Dominions have always been known for being reclusive folk, one can’t help but feel giddy around her—around her candor that never fails to whisk one away along an upbeat march. It is that quality I have… had always been drawn towards.
“Smile?” I mutter back. “I wonder how long it’s been since I last smiled.”
“Oh, don’t be all dramatic now,” she giggles. “I’m mighty impressed ya can say such sappy things in front o’ the others.”
“The others?”
Only a second passes before a slew of figures suddenly manifest into the world. There, I see a great gathering of knights. They come from every Order, donning armors faded and scratched from a time when the war was much more intense, and they bow their heads in respect whilst enduring the desert’s fatigue.
I know them well: Joan, Ashlyn, Bertrand, Theor, Christina… I remember their names, each and every one of the thousands that make up my former division. How can I not? Their voices have never left.
“Sarathiel,” Belladonna says, her words laced worry. “Is everythin’ truly alright? Ya seem a bit out of it.”
“… How long until we reach Velcroz’s army?” I reply, brushing aside her concern.
“A day if we’re quick about it. Though, Stars know we’ll need a break after a week straight of trudgin’ through this damn desert.”
“Let’s do that, then. Tell the others to set up camp for the night. There’s no need to rush; I have a feeling the legion will not be departing for some time.”
Bella looks at me up and down with an expression still full of doubt, but she decides against saying any more. “Alright then, I won’t pry if that’s how ya’re gonna be. Just… know that I’m here, okay? Anytime, anyplace. Nothin’ wrong with needin’ to let loose a bit sometimes.”
“I-I appreciate it, Bella. Go get some rest.”
“You too, big fella. You too.”
She leaves with the others, and I can finally be left alone with my thoughts.
Could Nokron have truly taken me to the past? No. There is no one in this world capable of such a feat, not even the Inheritors. I must never forget; this, everything here, is fake.
But that leaves the question… am I still trapped within the mist? So much time has passed; surely that vile Alchemist would have slain me by now. Yet I can feel clearly that I am still among the living. What is the purpose of this all?
I feel irritated. Lost. I know that danger lurks somewhere, hiding until I am most vulnerable, but nonetheless my heart is ever abundant. For the first time in so very long, I am happy.
… If I were to change my fate, what would happen? I know of Velcroz’s power. I can amend my mistakes; I have the knowledge to prevent another tragedy. Perhaps then this dream will persist, and the sins of my past will be reduced to an echo—a possibility that will never be realized.
I will finally be free.
“Still out ‘ere, huh? Git to sleepin’ already, you oaf. It’s dark out.”
Strange, is that Bella again? It has only been a few minutes since she’s left.
“What do you mean dark—”
But then, I feel it: a cool, frigid draft of wind. There is no swelter or blaze, no great ball of flame hanging in the sky. No, all that meets my eyes is a vast shroud of shadow and the drifting moon.
I do not understand. How can day so suddenly transform into night?
“It’s because of you, Sarathiel.”
Bella’s sharp tone brings my mind back to the present, but something about the way she speaks has me instinctively lurching back in caution. I’m not entirely sure why, but there is a strange air around her now. Her body is perfectly still: even her hair. It does not sway despite the breeze, as if it is being forcefully kept in a frozen state. And her face… I can’t see her face. The darkness veils it, yet I can see her figure clear amidst the unsettling lunar glow.
Is the one before me truly Belladonna?
“You thought to change what is already done,” the thing continues. “You wanted to run away, to forget about all the wrongs you have committed. But fate does not work that way, Sarathiel. Whether you wish it or not, the inevitable will arrive all the same, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
Without warning, a searing pain stabs at my skull, causing me to collapse and clutch at my head as the world distorts into an unrecognizable mess of blurs and light. It is a familiar feeling, but such experience only makes me dread what soon awaits.
When I can finally rise back up, I see that the day has returned. But no sooner after I steady my wits that a putrid smell floods my nostrils. It is an unbearable, pungent odor, and I need merely look ahead to discover the source.
The smell is of rotting flesh.
The desert has changed, degraded into a blood-soaked necropolis of gore and viscera. And I stand in the midst of it all, casting my gaze over the endless bodies conjoining into a fetid, wasting pile. My fellow knights, the Caelum soldiers of the Rust-Blood Legion: they all blend together in the sand, corpses mauled as if a wild beast has savagely torn them apart and devoured their insides.
I—something is in my mouth. It’s… chewy. My teeth sink into a mixture of cartilage and meat, but this tastes like no meat I’ve ever had before. No, it’s more stringy: tough and full of gristle. Yet despite the horrid taste, despite the cries of my soul begging for me to hurl, I greedily swallow the peculiar substance. And I salivate, hunger, for more.
I look down, and I discover the decapitated head of Velcroz the Terrible already impaled on my jagged claws. His face is partially consumed, bits of bone jutting out from flayed pieces of skin, and I open my jaw wide to take another delectable bite. His flesh tears off ever so easily, almost as if it is begging to be consumed, and I delight in the flavor of his eyes as they burst with a crunch atop my tongue.
But it is not enough, not nearly enough to satiate my appetite. I feel so hollow inside; I need to be filled. Anything, I need anything to fill this gaping hole in my chest.
“S-Sir Sarathiel?” a voice quivers, and I quickly turn around to find a small group of surviving knights. What are their names again? It doesn’t matter. I’ve finally found more prey.
I crouch down on my hind legs, place my claws onto the ground, and I lunge forward into the terrified crowd. A plump one is immediately caught within my grasp, and I waste no time before tearing off one of their arms as if it’s a twig. The knight whimpers as the bone snaps off, blood pooling from the exposed orifice, and they froth at the mouth—tremble from pain. But their pathetic act moves me not, and I raise them high into the air before sending them crashing below with a crush. The body explodes from the impact, brain splattering while their rib-cage pierces through the flesh for all to see. Their final, mangled expression is one of sheer terror, forever affixed to their carcass.
Suddenly, a loud shout interrupts my meal. A new knight approaches, and I recognize them this time.
It is Bella. She—she hasn’t run away. And for a brief moment, I feel my sanity return, and I despair as the full weight of my madness surges all at once.
“Sarathiel,” she whispers, slowly moving towards me one step at a time as if to soothe a frightened child. “Velcroz is dead. Ya did it. We won. You can change back now. Please… please change back.”
I feel the vile creature in me start to move, and I so desperately attempt to force it back. I try to regain control; I try to break free from this vivid hell, but no matter how much I scream, how much I struggle, how much I wish to gouge my soul until nothing of the putrid filth is left, there is no changing fate. There is no changing what I did.
Bella doesn’t even attempt to resist as the rabid creature controlling me disembowels her chest with one swift swing. Organs and intestines spill out of her body as she tumbles onto the ground, dangling by her side while the creature moves in and proceeds to dig into her flesh. It digs, and it digs, and it digs until nothing is left but a hollow cadaver. And all the while I am forced to watch every disgusting second of the act, watch as the one I love wails from being torn apart by the one she trusts most.
“It’s… it’s gonna be alright,” she gasps. “It’s all gonna be alright. I know ya’re still in there, somewhere. Probably blamin’ yourself most likely, but—but none of this is your fault. Don’t beat yourself down over this.”
Her eyes begin to dim; her light slowly fades. But even so, she manages to sputter a final goodbye.
“Live, Sarathiel. For all of us. For you.”
Bella falls limp. She’s gone, and as if to somehow mock me even further, the Stars finally deign to grant me back control over my body. And now, I can finally cry. I clutch at her ruined corpse and hold it close to my body, sobbing as my tears drop freely onto the lake of blood of my own creation.
I am alone. And I—I finally realize the futility of it all. Making amends, becoming a Throne, attempting to become a part of my nation again… it was all useless. I never should have stepped foot out of this desert. I never should have even survived.
“Do you understand?”
I can hear his words. It’s that abominable Alchemist again, but do I even have the right to call him so after all I have done? I’m so tired. I do not have the strength to resist him anymore.
“Do you know what you are?”
I do. I have always known, but still I tried to reject the truth. I wanted to be more, to escape from the constant expectations and burden to succeed, but perhaps that is why I was doomed to fail.
“Say it. Let your despair ring out, and then you shall reach true freedom.”
I take a deep, shaky breath, and I abandon it all: my sorrow, my repentance, my last fragile bonds to this world. I abandon it all so that my torment may come to an end.
“I am a monster.”
