Well here we are! the story finally, I had a lot of fun on this and hope to write more about Basch in his prison days, so many things to wonder about, for example; how he got that scar over his eye. XD can't wait to write about that! well now here's that witty disclaimer saying something about how I don't own the game an never will; I'm just writing the story. But I don't care! I want to own the game, wanting should count. determination can take one far, (cough pun on story below cough).
Chains
Darkness was all there was, and its deafening silence pressed downwards with great force. Yet, the unnatural stillness was awing, as it suffocated everything in nothing. Basch fell deeper and deeper into it all; feeling a tension release itself from his shoulders, like nothing had ever weighed them down before. He let it pull him downwards, unable to fight any longer against its raging black began to smother him as it had everything else, and he didn't mind. Before all perception left him, he realized what it was that held him down. It choked him with dread, and something else; disappointment. It was something that everyone feared; no matter how much one could say they weren't afraid. He was disgusted with himself that he wasn't surprised he was dying.
But then relief drowned it out, he could finally stop. His hopes and absurd dreams of something different; to be far away from his prison, for this to never have been, to be human again, finally he could let it all go. No one would miss the man who was already dead, and all the pain would be gone forever. As he sank into his morbid justification, he ceased to care what would happen; he would be dead and gone for good, far away from this mess. But as he went deeper into the beguiling darkness, something shouted out with such fierce intensity, it pushed the deep black away. It was a pounding anxiousness and fear begging him to stop and reconsider; but all he wanted to do was drift without worry or apprehension any longer. Basch tried to hide from it, but a thundering shattered the gloom. He didn't want to go back to live another day, it would surely drive him to the brink if he did. He couldn't stand such a life, it would be better if he could leave it forever than to exist in such a way.
But the insistent noise wouldn't stop, and as he fought, he realized that the gods would not show him mercy; everything was at the hands of others, he couldn't even die to relieve himself of this life; it tore at him, completely severing all but the thinnest string in his spirit. There was nothing he could do, except sit and be tormented for eternity. Basch felt numb with the darkest despair. Even as he had been prepared to die, to throw it all away and escape--destroying fruitless dreams his mind was too tired to carry on--He realized that death was one of those hopes too, ever denied him as the healers hand passed over; giving just enough strength and air back into his body to be tortured again.
As his eyes began to lift open, a strangely unnatural giddiness enveloped him. He could just make out the metal bars, and could feel the heavy chains weighing him down. But something was different, and as his consciousness grew more substantial his insanity left him, replaced by the logic of reason. He knew why he still lived, and it wasn't by the will of others. Nor was it by an untouchable hope; his last thread to which he clung was sheer determination. It was the disappointment which had come before, it was what had egged him on, and kept him steady even when his way was gone.
The grim fact, the reason he had lived through so many other days and stayed sane, lived through so many other dreams such as this and still kept going. It was to prove he was innocent; his disgust had been over how weak he had become. He would live an eternity of this to prove his being right, and to show the entire world that his crime had been a lie, his death sentence false; even if that world was limited to one person. Truth was the greatest thing for someone to face, to know the reality and be unafraid, not to live in illusions; he would not die to make his entire life a lie. To give up would be to prove them right, to show everyone that he was a murderer. It was the cement resolve that Noah could never understand, and he could cling too it for all he was worth. His reason for living was not one of hope, but of resolve, he would get out and live another day, fight for the right thing as he had always done, and strive for the truth.
As Basch opened his eyes to his small cage, he caught his breath in shock; it was gone. The ceiling made of deteriorating and damp stone, was one of wood. As he looked about deliriously there was a silvery white light illuminating the large room around him. He turned and saw it came in from a window, there wasn't a single bar across it. He sat up, and felt soft blankets roll away from his chest, as he stared at the moon shining brightly. It was the same one, just as full and bright as it had been on that night, he had thought would be his last.
A weight upon his chest drew him away from such disfavored memories that moon held; and he grasped it in his hand. It had survived too, something that had helped him to remember in the darkest place. His only keepsake that had been allowed and put there to mock him; it was as battered and rusted as he was, the same as before but now changed in its meaning. He held it tightly, as a last shard of his past. It would help him to tell the truth, as a reminder of all he had fallen from, and of all the people who had died for him. He felt the determination in him warp as it began to take on a fuller more real wasn't hope, he couldn't hope for anything any more, he had been through enough to know that hope was a fool's fancy.
And in his reflection he could see it, that pendant shining, his face just as clean and noble as before; and a hardness that went beyond strength. He knew that even if he had escaped there was no promise he could ever be free, but he could certainly do something about it.