Freya
How long has it been?
I had always thought coming home would be joyful.
But all I feel is pain. Heartache.
The rain seems to be pounding the depression further and further into my mind,
Just as it pounds fertile soil into sickly mud.
The icy cold droplets clinging to my hair are like the memories I wish to forget.
Lingering, painful, relentless.
I close my eyes and think of the day I left,
Everyone, even those I did not know, had gathered in the town square to bid me farewell.
They thought I was leaving because of my career as a dragon knight,
Off to slay the terrible beasts of the Mist,
To protect the town and those within.
They didn't know it was my own selfish desires that led me out the gate that day.
I refused to be content with rumors of the death of my true love, who had left two years before.
My denying heart required proof.
I needed to find him or his body to calm the torrents raging in my mind.
I needed closure.
And now, as I walk along the deserted streets of my former home,
I see that instead of one body, I have found dozens.
Dozens who must have been shocked to see the enemy burst into their homes,
Who must have been calling out for someone to save them.
And where was I?
Drinking myself stupid in a Lindblum pub,
Trying to drown my feelings of sorrow and frustration.
My companions walk cautiously behind me
Expressing feelings of concern and shock,
But I know they cannot feel the way I do.
Their virtuous hearts feel sorrow for lost lives,
But they are nameless souls to them,
Not the people they have grown up with, been to the weddings of, and fought alongside.
More memories flood into my mind.
I can clearly recall pacing down these streets,
Buying vegetables from the vendors that once lined them.
But now all that is left of the vendors is an overturned cart.
It lies on the ground like a wounded animal,
Its spoked wheels are flailing hopelessly in the air
And the luscious vegetables it once held are spilled all over the ground like blood.
Rotting in the dampness around them.
Why did I have to come back here?
And why did I drag these newfound friends with me?
We could have ignored the news of Alexandria's invasion.
They do not want to see this,
No matter what they say about wanting to help me.
It would have been better to continue roaming the boundless countryside in futile search of Fratley,
Seeing this place only in my dreams
Where reality would not pervert it into an image of death and devastation.
But I am here now. There is nothing I can do. I cannot turn back.
I draw in an uncertain breath and slowly pass under another arch,
My feet slapping against the drenched stone,
To face whatever might be lurking within, and even more foreboding,
My past.