I am not, who others believe to be.

Standing still in heavy rain, thinking if I should go back, or stay forgotten, till the end, of times.

Recognition is what I wished, but the harsh reality was what stood before, my face.

Crumbling wishes, filled with despair, I hope to live another day, Without Pain...

Without an ounce of fear to my name...

I am an entity without a definite existence, crumbling in the mud, with each passing day.

Their stares fill me, with misery. Again, I watch, in harrowing despair, of what my future, would be.

Burning pyres, holding witches, to their fame, mother's blaming for their child's death, there truly was no salvation, there...was no justice...for those in need.

The world, I am in, is Asteria, the unblessed. 

The crude roads, of this place, filled with blemishes, of I what I could perceive, as a living organ.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

The moment my eyes opened, I gained a new family. Nobility in fame, they, however, were good people, at least, to their blood.

The more I sat, the more, the world felt different. I, myself felt, as if an outsider, to this place. A foreigner, dark as night, hair, acting as an insignia, for my unique birth.

I despaired for long, as to why, I had to carry this insidious burden to my shoulders, then, again, time passed as those harsh wounds healed itself.

But the difference, still, existed. While others, viewed this world, as their ultimate utopia, guided by those gods, I, however, saw it differently. 

It was no utopia, I was struck with fright. The vision, of a world, different, from this, eroded my mind.

Insanity crept within me, I felt strange, I felt different, I felt...alien?

Those eyes, always monitoring, my every movement, soon became, my paranoia.

It felt revolting, as if my entire being, was violated over and over and over and over...

Day, became night as night soon, turned day, little by little, like small droplets of water, memories from an unknown time, seeped, within my mind. 

"I am El." or what, I suppose it would be.

A character, unknown to this place, born with nothing, except for a name.

Lost in a different world, in a different time, a user of magic or to be said, more strictly, a warlock. In a time, where they faced, death for even, uttering those words...

Will this realization, bring me, to my own utopia or make me, a corpse, decorating the already existing mountains, of bodies?