Who has never wondered how Volke came to be the murderer we know? I gave it a try. Enjoy!

Prologue: Nightmare

Pain. Blood. Darkness. Pain again.

I never ran so fast in my whole life. I don't usually run, to be honest, I always manage to hide or avoid who or what is following me. But this time it's different: the thing I'm running away from, or whatever it is, can't be fooled. Nor can it get tired of tracking me down. It has no name, no face, no shape, and at once it has thousands of each.

"Where do ye think you're runnin' boy?"

This only got me to run faster. I want this pain to stop, I can't stay like this for long. Physical pain I can bear, but this is another thing. What am I running from anyway? And where to? I don't seem to have thoughts anymore.

"You killed her! How could you!"

Her? Who is "her"? Does it really matter? It may be true, I may have killed her, I killed so many men and women I can't remember. No wait, that's not true, I only killed two women, and under special circumstances. I don't usually kill women, even I have a bit of dignity. Doesn't matter anyway, for women are seldom involved with the business that's my own.

"It hurts! Please stop! It hurts!"

Was that my own voice? It sounded like it. But I can't remember ever having said something like that. I have never begged someone to stop hurting me. I usually was the one inflicting pain, not receiving it. And even if I did get hurt during battles, there was no time to complain or beg – I hate that word. People think begging will make things change, but life knows no heart and fate cannot be changed. Mine couldn't. Mine just couldn't.

The voices are confusing now; everyone speaks at the same time and keeps on getting louder. What started out as a faint murmur is now a full-blown hailstorm of shouts, yells, threats and screams. I think my ears are going to explode, but suddenly there is no ground under my feet. And I fall.

I fall endlessly. The voices are still here, but I'm not. I'm falling, and I feel rather than see the ground nearing…

I wake up from my position sitting against a wall. I don't scream, screaming never does any good. I turn to my left to see if I am alone, and I'm not, because Bastian is sleeping on his side a few feet further. I didn't wake him up, and that's good because I don't want the wind sage to ask questions and make my business his own. He's well-known for that.

So I get up as soundlessly as possible, so as not to wake Bastian. It's not too hard anyway, I've spent my whole life on my toes, even if the reason why I did this changed at some point. It just sort of comes naturally now. I manage to stay completely silent, even here, in the middle of the forest where there are twigs and leaves scattered about the ground, in the dead of night. I walk past Bastian with ease, avoiding Lucia who is sleeping there as well. I should have known the golden retriever wouldn't have slept anywhere else than right next to his mistress.

I breathe in the cool night air. It is a pleasantly warm night, but then again, it is summer and we're in the middle of Crimea. The sky is clear and stars are shining down on us. It is horrible. Horrible that it absolutely doesn't matter to me. It has been a long time since I really appreciated something for what it was.

I get closer to the fire to see if there is some food left. I didn't eat last evening. Didn't want to eat with the lot of them. They are just so happy when they eat, I feel like I don't fit in the picture. Who am I kidding… I never fit anywhere.

There's a loaf of bread and some beef left on a plate, and I immediately know someone set that up for me. I frown; when will they get that it doesn't matter whether they worry for me or not? I'm about to leave the food right where it is when my stomach growls in disapproval; which is strange, because my stomach usually never rumbles. It's quite annoying to have your own body make noises as you try to stalk someone, so I learned to master my metabolism... somehow.

However, the rumbling quickly annoys me, so I grab the plate and bread and chuck down the food. Much like I've seen dogs do, I don't stop to register how dry the beef is, or how hard that piece of bread feels under my teeth, I just swallow everything to sate my stomach be done with it. I set the plate aside, near my left boot, and sit down on the grass.

Such a beautiful night. I guess.

I don't think I'll ever be able to enjoy such a night for what it really is. Right now, wheels are turning in my head, calculating that with the angle of the moon, the shadows of north-oriented walls would conceal me nicely, but that it would be foolish of me to try and hop from roof to roof because I sure as hell would be spotted immediately.

There.

That's the exact extend of how much I enjoy this night.

Or maybe I know why I can't like this night; it looks too much like that one night, the night that started it all. I sigh; I swore to myself that I would leave regrets, pain and all those dark thoughts in a place I know I won't care to search: my past. But that is just the root of the problem.

My past is anything but something I'm likely to forget.