As the summary said, this is for Milloniare's fanfic challenge, part 4! This was not so good. But then I've never been good at doing poetic stories. So do remember that, and please review!
Sort of a story behind the name of the quest "New Life". I didn't quite understand why it was named that way, so I gave it a story.
New Life
I never did want my life to go the way it did,
Right from the start.
It was never my wish to have all freedom taken from me.
But there it was, wrenched from the helpless grasp
Of a young girl who could do nothing to change her fate.
-
All the time before that, I dreamt of a bright future
I dreamt that I would be the strongest warrior of my homeland
That my foes would tremble before me,
Swords lain down before me in defeat
As they begged, shivering, for mercy.
-
I could almost taste my sweat, feel it run down my forehead
After a battle well fought, arms aching satisfyingly
My own sword still in hand, leather strips trusty as ever.
-
Those dreams were extinguished even before they began.
They took it from me.
-
"You will take on your mother's job as a weaver, young lady,"
It was my father's voice that pronounced my verdict,
And my head still bows as the voice of a ghost resounds.
"No, you are not learning to fight!"
-
The wooden sword snapped in his hands,
Shattered splinters and dreams falling upon the floor
So sharp they tore my heart.
-
Wishes denied for once and for all,
I worked with all resolve
Perhaps if I worked hard, I would please Father,
So he might change his mind and give me free rein once more.
-
I thought wrong, hoped worthlessly. It never ended.
Bale after bale of cloth unrolled from my fingers,
But where there was silk, I longed for metal
Where I heard the clacking of the loom,
I wanted to hear the clash of steel on steel, will against will.
-
It was never my choice to make, was it?
They wanted it of me, and who was I to turn my parents down?
-
But all I wanted was a real life, a new life
Away from the stuffy room at the back shed.
I wanted a life story that I could weave for myself,
Not one that was guided by the hands of another.
-
My hands moved, shuttle through warp, mechanical
Shifting over the strings like a machine.
-
Then came a night
A scream that cut through the darkness
A dagger that severed the warp and weft of my life—
The shuttle tore from the loom, and the weaving unravelled.
-
I left my mother's profession, and took the sword
They had both vanished from the world, and vengeance was mine to take.
Wood had never done much for me
It was time to hold real, cold steel.
-
The murderer had been a Dark One. I knew where to search.
And so, by the next morning, my new route had been carved,
Straight, like a sword wound through flesh
Towards the lair of the organisation, which had so cruelly taken innocent lives.
-
I never thought that my dream would come to me in this way.
It began so hard, but by a stroke of luck, I won my first fight
And from each fight, I learnt.
I learnt to take the other's weaknesses to my advantage,
To block up my own, and to strike them at the right moment.
To take pain as a driving force, not a hindrance.
-
There were waves of blood across my blade,
Streaks that I could no longer clean off the steel,
Marks of the victories that I had won.
Every wound was a brand, a trophy
A reminder of the painful truth of what I sought.
-
But for every inch of my journey towards my destination,
I paid a price. They owned the power of the night
It was something I could never parry or reverse.
I coughed blood many times as I fought, as the curse struck
And I would bite on my lip, turning away from his laughter
To take him while he didn't see.
-
Many times, I fell upon the tearing brambles and slept without rest
For there was nowhere else to live, deep into the darkness.
Every step was sore, but it would never stop me…never.
-
I rose. They fell before me, just as I had longed as a child
Weapons laid down at my feet in surrender.
And when it came to my last battle, my hands were worn,
My sword streaked with red, my soul hardened to ruthlessness.
It was the leader. He had killed my parents.
-
Ironic, isn't it? Now I think about it, and thought many times then—
It was this man who had given the control back to me
And yet I was here to destroy him,
For the sake of the ones who had denied me this skill in the first place.
-
I was confused.
Unsure if what I was doing was truly what I wanted.
All that pain, that toil, that angry frustration and bitter victory,
All the times I had won, only to know that more suffering waited—
Was it all for something that I didn't really want?
-
So I entered the battle, tired, frightened, injured
To face the dark master who had made me drag myself through this torture.
-
Once, I had woven colourful tapestries for my mother,
With bright assorted threads of silk.
But now, I wove a tale with blood and metal
With darkness and fury
With my swift footsteps, with my true blade
And he fell. He fell and he paid, for every drop of blood he had ever spilt.
-
Victory wasn't as sweet as I had hoped.
Somewhere deep in my heart, I thought,
I never wanted my dream to come true in this way.
It had brought more suffering than joy,
Brought me such anger, such internal turmoil
And the world had moulded me into one of heartless skill.
It wasn't the new life I had once hoped for.
Come now, training novices,
Let not the past bring you fear.
Raise your skills while it is simple
Kill some monsters for me, and I will give you a reward.
-
It was never this easy for me.
How much pain, how much blood had to be spilt,
Before my new life could truly begin and be enjoyed?
How hard I toiled, for that single victory and acknowledgement of skill!
It was never easy. It wasn't truly what I wanted.
-
Don't waste time now, young ones.
You have killed snails and mushrooms all your lives,
But you must move on, usher in the new challenges that wait!
Take your dreams and make them your weapon!
Take yourself as far as your determination will allow,
As long as you have the freedom and chance to do so.
-
I won it the hard way. My soul had to be torn apart
Before I could start living my fresh start for real.
But you, you must take the chance, the open pathway
That the world has laid out before you.
-
Someday, when you have reached that unsurpassable standard,
You will turn back and realise:
Every drop of sweat, every wound, every small ache you paid,
Everything you gave from your fibres and being
Was worth the effort, worth the lasting through,
For the new life that you won for yourself.