The Darkest Hour
By Ultima66
Interlude
Perhaps in time I shall realize something... I am unsure. Nothing makes sense anymore, and I feel like I am nothing, yet somehow I know I am here for something. I do remember one more thing, though, which I am sure that I didn't know before. A strange thought, but it makes perfect sense. It has been plaguing me ever since I have arrived in this world with no beginning or end, what I suppose is the afterlife, left to share my shattered tale of woe. All I know is that now is the time to share it, and that I must do. It is a piece of writing that I remember, precisely from that time period, precisely from the time that Arche had died. I suppose I left it somewhere, and never found it, until I remember it now. The writing is completely unlike myself though, and I have no way to explain it. Perhaps someone is recording my actions, perhaps it's part of a great enigma that I do not know about. At any rate, I hope to find relevance, and I feel that at some point it will be imperative for you to know this.
Half my quest has finally come to an end. Half, an indefinite amount. It is as large as the infinite reaches of space and time, or it may be as small as almost nothing. Half, so indecisive, such a poor term. Yes somehow it portrays this perfectly, but I feel it brings all too much light into this situation.
Three lives. Three lives taken at my blade, three souls gone because of me. I feel the force pushing me. I feel it. Three more lives will soon follow, and I know they will be at my cause. Such sadness, but what can I do? What can I do? Half of my quest is done, and with a half the other is sure to follow.
But still, I feel the chilling darkness inside me. Darkness that I can't control, darkness that knows no bounds. I have nothing any more. No more emotion, no more feeling, just emptiness. I only have that deep emptiness and chaos that fills my hollow shell of a soul, if you can call it a soul. I have nothing left, and the only warmth I ever feel now is from the blood of the ones I kill. Suzu, Klarth, and Arche... I can't believe the lives that have been taken. I have no more hope, no more hope at all.
I pray to you, Mother Martel. For you I have all the repentance in the world. Martel, please protect them, the ones that I know I am destined to take. Please, Martel. Please stop me, stop that dark force in me, the one that drives at me endlessly to push me on to complete my quest. Martel! Please free me from my horrible fate! Only you can help me Martel, only you.
Please, I know that it is coming back. My corruption is coming back. I must spend what little time I have left to let you know this, Martel. What little time I have left awake, my consciousness not robbed by the grasp of my evil. I must let you know, Martel, what you must do to help me. This is far too much for me, and you are the only one who can help. Martel, please do what I bet of you, please. You know I need you, and I am running out of time. My dark embrace will come back, and I know that you must do something about it.
Martel, I must part now. I know not of what you can do, and even less of what you will do, but my dark, dreary sonata must finally finish. It must be fulfilled, and only you can decide how it will be. Martel, I ask, no, I beg of you to please do this. To stop me from doing what I must. Martel, you're the only one left for me. The only one who cares about me anymore. I hope that these are not the final words I say worth of any mention, but as you know, I cannot determine that. Goodbye, Martel. Goodbye. I hope that you will someday learn of this, but until then, all I can do is dream, and that is what I will do. So as it is, until you answer my call, I bid you adieu.
So that is how it goes. Nothing more, nothing less. I am so sure that it is not myself who wrote that, but something in me really wants to tell me that I am incorrect in the notion. Martel has to know of this, but I do not understand at all. In my whole life I never thought that there was going to be anything of me but my dark destiny. I never thought anything of Martel, so I am sure that it is not by my hand that the document was written, but then again, what do I know? I question the very notion of me knowing enough to decipher this, as I have never known anything but hate. So I guess I must continue the tale, perhaps you will learn something. The darkest hour will continue, and I shall be the one to pass on the legacy.