Broken Dreams, Oaken Trees
Dedicated to becoming a Shadower, I neglected everything. My past life, all the things I once loved, I ruthlessly threw them away.
I thirsted for blood, nothing more. I only relished the slash of my dagger as it took away yet another fiend's life. The taste of blood was irresistible to my murderous blade. It drank its fill of blood at every single wound, every lesion it opened, and I never spared a thought for the countless of monsters from which I had taken their lives. Of course, I didn't spare a thought for anything.
I was a wreck, a callous and unfeeling person. The only thing that kept me human was that goal, that goal of becoming a Shadower. And I worked towards it relentlessly, never giving up.
My old life was all but cast away; family, friends, all gone, abandoned. I lost my feelings, my humanity, as I, committed, did everything I could to conquer that final step in my thief path. I stole, robbed, and killed people, all for money and the experience. I hired myself out as an assassin, and my night life was full of bloodshed.
I feel like tearing out my past self, removing that dark side in me and erasing my memories. They torment me in a whirlwind every day, every hour, every second. I am trapped in that spinning funnel of images, and I can't break free…
I I I
Loitering near Mushroom Park, he leans against a tree, staring at a family of three. The father is entertaining his two young sons, one a couple of years older. The father finishes his speech with a wide grin, as the two boys laugh, the sound a painful one in his years, as he senses a strange feeling. Rage? No, not really. Joy? Definitely not. Yet with more glances at the father, more and more frequently, his aggression grows, and he stalks the family as they return to their house.
I I I
Stab. Kill.
Father! A cry comes from one of the boys as he stares at his father, his corpse, and the dagger being slid out of that gaping wound in his chest. The murderer feels no pity as he walks away, that feeling gone from his heart, that strange feeling of jealousy and wistfulness.
As the boy wails, he doesn't turn back. He feels no pity. He isn't capable of that.
I I I
He climbs over the electric fence, unafraid, for the voltage had been cut off. By an unfaithful guard, of course. No poor man would turn away money even if it means betraying all they stood for. Beliefs, ideals, nothing but fanciful things created by mankind, useless, unwanted, easily broken by temptations.
He suddenly freezes for a while, submerged in shadows, mentally recapping the course to the target. Then, as the talking guards pass him, he re-enters the path, keeping close to the escape route he planned just in case. But there was never a need for it, anyway. He could just as easily neutralize the source of trouble before any alarm was raised. His aiming with his spare knives is good. Way too good for any human. Of course, he did read a book on necromancy.
He enters the mansion, creeping silently, sometimes crawling, sometimes slithering, passing by weary guards unnoticed. This latest assignment would be easy; nightfall has arrived, and the guards are sure to be sleepy.
However, he faces a minor setback. There is a guard patrolling the corridor in front of the bedrooms. He snarls, as he forms a plan on the spot. Sliding in the shadows on his stomach, he reaches a torch, quickly grabs it and returns to the corridor. Then, he throws the burning wood at the guard. He screams, cloak in flames, and the target comes out of the bedroom, shocked. The target sees a burning guard dashing towards him, then nothing more.
He would have liked to savor the moments when lifeblood of the target seep away, but there was no opportunity now. Then, as the burning guard sees him, he curses, then jumps out of the closest window. Body hurtling through a centimeter of glass, he falls to the soft loam in a controlled dive, then lands neatly, curled up in a ball. As he picks himself up, he slides his dagger into the throat of a guard who noticed his graceful plunge. He rescales the fence on the perimeter, then makes a swift escape into the nearby forest, regardless of the shouting of some guards behind.
A mission well done, indeed.
I I I
His latest task is to eliminate a family. He finds it strange, but nevertheless accepted. The family includes two harmless children. Why would he have to kill them? But it doesn't really matter. He wants the blood money and wants the experience. Now, he is close to his ascension to a Shadower. Just ten more levels…
He goes to survey the house, then realises that this task is too easy. Way too easy. There isn't even a catch. No guards could be seen.
That night, he sneaks into the house. Even though it would probably be very easy, he couldn't afford to be careless. As his stealth shielded him from the eyes of the children downstairs, he creeps up the stairs to the master bedroom. He has to kill the parents first. They pose more of a threat.
He opens the door silently, seeing two still figures on the bed, sleeping. He ambles slowly over to their bed, and then murders them in their sleep. However, the mother emits a soft cry before meeting Death.
The children rush up the staircase, and he glares at the two young siblings in the doorway. He brandishes his knife, holds it up in a hammer grip and it starts its flight as the blade sings through the air, a throaty song of death.
But that knife never hit its intended target. The sister throws herself in front of the brother, and the brother looks on, shocked, as he sees his sister die in front of him. The boy then glowers at his sister's killer, shouting, "You cold-blooded creep! I loved her!"
The boy runs down the stairs, presumably to alert neighbours or the police. He sinks to his knees, torrents of emotions overwhelming him like a hail of arrows: strong, hard, all at once. It was partially rage at failing to complete the deed, but it was mainly guilt and regret. And it wasn't only for this action of killing. He remembered how he abandoned his family for the life of a bandit, a rogue, an assassin.
For the first time in countless years, his face was wetted by tears…
I I I
The alley of memories ends there, one week before this day, and I abruptly enter the world of the living once more. Sudden splashes on the calm surface of the lake before me catch my attention, and I gaze at the sky, but it is as bright as ever, the sun dousing the soft clouds with its sanguinity. It isn't the rain clouds, but my eyes.
A hasty footstep on leaves sounds behind me, and I turn around, only to see her.
"How did you fi-"
My speech is cut off as she embraces me with her matchstick-like arms, so thin and frail. How could I have left her so cruelly?
"Don't. Don't love me. I'm a murderer. I took away lives of many innocent people."
She lets go of me, stares at me in my eyes and says, "I'm your sister. I loved you, still do, and will love you no matter what."
The surface of the blue body of water before us is destroyed by the fall of our tears, our happiness at this sudden reunion.
"Let go of your guilt, Oaken. Let go of it all. Be free," she whispers softly. She raises her arms wide, closes her eyes, and smiles at the sun. I do the same, and I let go of my dream, my ambition, my past, my wrongdoings, my guilt, my regret. For this special moment, I forget everything.
"Mother and Father want to see you. They miss you," she says, as she motions for me to follow her.
"Dream, shatter; now you don't matter," I sigh quietly, as my lofty dream is set free. A sudden breeze enters this place, and the oaken tree I am under sheds its red leaves. I walk away from this picturesque sight to follow my sister.
The autumn leaves fly past my vision, high into the sky, carried gently by the wind. I set my ambition free, to join the leaves, to be lost for all eternity.
Author's Note:
This story is dedicated to my sister, for her birthday. I've been tossing the idea of a fic for her a couple of weeks, and I'm sorry for this late fic. I am 4 days late T_T. I sincerely apologise to you, sis. Btw, she's ., if anyone is interested. And sorry for the kind of lousy work.