Chapter 9 : The Laments of a Lost Soul

I lay in the void, in the darkness of my mind
A condemned soul, with only whispers to remind

I lay ever so still, shivering in the darkness that consumed my very soul. I can neither gaze upon the bustling free world beyond the eternal dark void, nor hear the cries of freedom echo in my mind. Trapped, I am in the vestiges of my own sanity... I can finally see what others can not. This wretched curse had me gripped in its hold. These chains seem to drain my strength further and weaken my resolve ever so much. I feel as if the life is being sucked out of my corporal body. My soul feels torn and sundered, and strangely... alone...

Whoever left me as this 'monstrosity' will pay dearly. The days have gone by and I have long lost count. It's been months, years, perhaps even decades but it does not matter. When I break free of this imprisonment, vengeance will be mine. I will make him pay dearly... I won't rest until the day I will be set free from this cage. Caged, like a dog... with no way escape... Imp at the mercy of my captors whose throats I shall slit the moment I escape. Oh how I shall enjoy, and savor every drop of blood that trickles down their vile throats. It's strange... I can't seem to remember who my captor was... yet I recall seeing him before I was put in here...or... did I? I remember them calling him... or is it her... a Warden... or was it a King...

My memory seems to fade more and more daily. I've never felt... so weaker... it won't be long before my soul perishes... I don't know why I cling onto dear life... I know I have since long died... is this what death truly looks like? Is the darkness to be my only companion? Have I truly died in this forsaken place?
I remember not long ago how I used to cherish the light of day and the sight of snow covered fields. I would bask in the lukewarm rays of glorious sunlight which brang forth a new day and resurrected in me a lost feeling of hope. Oh, how the sight of frost covered grass brought joy to my be-stilled heart. I would remember how I would dive into the freezing cold Crystal Lake. Though the harsh cold of the waters would chill to the bone, I could never have felt more relaxed. I would gain a sense of serenity... and a sense of calmness. Bitter irony...I chose to live alone and here I am... ready to die alone.

I once had a love, whom I've long forgotten. I don't remember why... but I loved her... and yet she knew too... her heart was with someone else... yet I accepted it. Each day in here I would whisper her name in the darkness, hoping that I would get one last chance to see her. But, alas, that time never came. They called me a "Betrayer" and caged me... but the truth is it was I who was betrayed. I was sentenced to death, but their fragile compassion blinded them. Instead they chose to curse me with this "gift of mercy" of theirs. They could have killed me right there, but no... They chose to leave me in a secluded dungeon where I would rot until my very last breath. They banished me... and I was their own kin. I shall have my revenge on them... blood for blood...

The Captive ran his fingers across the loosely bound of cloth wrapped around his eyes. He gently caressed it and reminiscened over the time he had received it. It was probably aeons ago, when he was free and there was rioting in his home city. Many homes had been set ablaze, and powerful sorcery had engulfed their fair city. For days there had been a terrible storm. The rioters were none other than the troublesome Highbourne, who were persistent in trying to convince the Night Elves to take advantage of their magics. The Night elves had shown them a deaf ear, and now they sought retribution. Utter chaos had the town gripped in its folds as the storm became increasingly violent. A lonely child was wandering in the streets. He spoke out to it, to try to help it. Before words could be uttered from the child's mouth, an arrow struck into her throat. She coughed up blood, and the "Betrayer" quickly looked in the direction of the forest for her assailant. He caught a glimpse of a hooded figure running into the woods. He un-fastened the two moon-blades from their holsters on his back, and clasped one in each hand. The Betrayer ran into the forest, trying to focus onto the sound of the murderer's footsteps with his acute sense of hearing. The sound of his foot-steps abruptly halted. He had entered into a clearing.

An ambush?

He surveyed his surroundings, but could not see anyone. The silence was deafening, and the tranquility seemed more eerie than peaceful. The cloaked figure finally appeared before him from behind the bushes. Underneath the black cloak, was a visible orange vest. There was a bow and quiver on the floor beside the assailant, and a curved sword in his hands. He appeared to be Elven in nature. He threw down his hood to show his face to the "Betrayer", seemingly to show that his face would not be seen ever again. It was Elven in nature, but was more high-strung. His face was the true depiction of arrogance, but seemingly deprived of something almost like a man who had not eaten in days. The Elf withdrew his sword from his hilt, and glared at his prey menacingly. The hilt was a golden spiral with a sun deity roughly carved in. The sword appeared bent, and more hook-like in appearance. He knelt down and drew out a dagger concealed in the grassy underbrush. His hair was golden, and complexion was a ghostly pale. He finally rushed towards the Betrayer with both weapons wielded. The Betrayer quickly rolled to the side, and was agile on his feet.

He jumped sideways onto a tree, and using his legs he bounced himself towards the murderer. He spun in the air twisting his moonblades around in a vicious manner. His body suddenly became lit in flames, and twisted his blades into a helix. The assailant flipped backwards, and landed on his feet and knelt into a crouching position. The Betrayer landed on his front, but hastily jumped onto his feet. The Elven assassin thrust the dagger straight at the Betrayer. He clashed his moon-blades together and trapped the dagger in the crevice between. Suddenly, the Elf lunged at him with the sword held in a twisted manner in his hand. The Betrayer brought his blades into an X-shaped position, and made a sideways slash at his assailant. The blades appeared to, slice through thin air. The silhouette of the Elf disappeared, and the dagger in between his blades vanished. Beads of sweat began to flow from his head. The ground beneath him began to pulsate in an eerie green hue.

Almost instantaneously, through the ground erupted the Elf assailant and split into 3 copies of himself. Each stood before him, and laughed mockingly. All three jumped at the Betrayer from different directions, swords tilted downwards. The Betrayer was agile, and quickly evaded the first one with ease. Just as he was about to land, the Betrayer thrust his sword into the figure's mid-section. Once again, the blade struck only thin air. The next two were coming at him now. He did a flip backwards, and thrust his left moonblade at one of the enemies. It swirled in the air in the form of a helix, but it too did not strike flesh. It simply continued its path of flight, and etched itself into a tree. The last one thrust his sword at the Betrayer. He placed his sword directly in front, to brace the impact. He felt pain, horizontally across his back. He cried out in pain, as it dawned on him what his assailant had done.

In one last attempt, he spun his entire body with his blade twisting in the air. It went through his attacker. His attacker seemed to be, in a luminous green shimmering coat. The Betrayer's body began to feel paralyzed. The assassin's blade had gouged deep into a nerve in his spine. The blade dropped from his hand as he soon began to lose his grip. His flaming cloak of fire faded away. The assassin's curved blade though began to burn fiercely. Helpless was the Betrayer as he watched the blade slash towards his face. The searing blade deeply gashed into his eyes. The burning sensation was unbearable. He screamed in pure agony as the flame singed the soft tissue in his eyes. His world suddenly became dark. Losing the strength to stand, he fell to the floor. He could still feel the blade scathing his eyes. He heard the sword being placed into its hilt, and footsteps of the assailant start to become more distant. In one last desperate attempt he grabbed the cloak of his attacker, and tried to tug.

He did not know he did so, but in the back of his mind he was hoping that the murderer would at least give him the sweet release of death from his pain. Nay, instead he felt a sharp gouge in his hand and heard the tearing of fabric. He lost all feeling of life from his hand, as it fell lifeless to the floor. His consciousness was slowly fading, yet the cloth remained firmly gripped into his hand. He was left alone, forsaken on the soft grass. He savored the feeling, for he thought he might never live to feel it again. He was alone, and would die alone.

Fate was not as kind to him, however. Fate mocked him, by keeping him alive and robbing him of his vision forever. He does not remember what happened after, as most of it is a blur. He does remember the mocking whispers, at night that he hears. The whispers of his captors echo in his mind. Like the beat of his heart, the chanting is rhythmic and never-ending. He had succumbed to a few wounds, and hated himself for it. It seems peculiar, but the memory of his imprisonment appears to be, of two types. He remembers a female warden calling him a Betrayer and throwing him inside, yet he also remembers being condemned by a heavily-clad in armor Knight.

Sent into exile I was, for as a traitor I was portrayed
But the truth is that it was I who was truly betrayed.

Vengeance... will be mine...