I was young, raised in the darkness where only an eerie light occasionally pierced the oppressive gloom. Born in the Underdark of Lutheran, where the air was thick and heavy, filled with the scent of damp soil and the distant echoes of dripping water and the city's many forges and machinery.

My memories of my parents are faint—they were mere dwellers, nobodies. The only true memory I have of them is their last day alive. They brought me into this world to care for them. “Selfish,” I think to myself. They wanted me to be their protector and to fight for the Raven Queen. They ripped my childhood away from me before I was even born. When I was young, my greatest wish was to visit the Feywild and immerse myself in its natural beauty, a stark contrast to the gloomy and uncertain future that lay ahead. However, everything shifted when I turned eleven; I was sent for training to become a soldier in her name. I knew little of life, only that I had to suppress my emotions. Though I still lived with my family, I spent most of my days within the palace walls, training vigorouslyI remember it like it was yesterday—being pushed to the limits of my strength, driven to the point of exhaustion, with the constant smell of sweat and blood lingering in the air. If ever reached your limit, showed any sign of struggle or pain, or couldn’t go on, you were beaten and starved. For two long years, I built my strength before being allowed to move on to the next phase of training.

My life as a soldier under the Raven Queen is marked by strict adherence to emotional suppression. As soldiers, we are trained to detach from our feelings and focus entirely on our duties. My primary role was to enforce the natural order of fate, ensuring that death occurred as it was meant to, often by hunting down those who tried to escape their destined end or by stopping those who sought to disrupt the cycle of life and death. In my years of training, I found profound purpose and devotion in my service, knowing that I played a crucial role in maintaining the balance between life and death. This sense of duty and purpose is the driving force behind my unwavering loyalty to the Raven Queen, making my life both austere and deeply meaningful.

As my skills improved over five years of training, I saw my family less. My focus shifted entirely toward perfecting my abilities, and I threw myself into the rigorous demands of my regimen. I spent countless hours mastering various combat techniques. The once somewhat frequent visits to my family became rare as my dedication grew.

It has been nearly three years since I last saw them and in that time, I was gradually assigned to fieldwork. My missions would last weeks, often taking me to dangerous locations. I began as a scout, gathering information on enemies, tracking their every move, and uncovering their plans. Each mission was more challenging than the last, and I thrived on it.

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As time went on, I felt the urge to seek out my family again. After years of absence, I decided to pay them a visit, uncertain of what I would find but driven by a sense I could no longer ignore. I was met with a beaten-down house, its brick exterior dirty and the door cracked. The wind howled around me as I reached for the door handle.

Starting to walk into the beaten down house, I heard my mother speaking to my father, “We can’t do this anymore. Cai is too involved with the castle, and we need a better life for us.” I heard her whimpering, seeing my father comfort her. I didn’t understand it—why tears? Why emotion? Why betray the Raven Queen? Why leave?

I felt a cool breeze against my back as I watched my mother cry in my father’s arms. A shiver ran down my spine. Maybe I should head back to the castle and tell them what I saw. Slamming the door behind me, I fled to the higher-ups, planning to relay what I had just witnessed.

The wind groaned as I approached the castle, its dark silhouette looming ominously above me. I took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy doors. Inside, my leaders awaited, their faces stern and unforgiving. I recounted the moments I had just witnessed, and their orders came swiftly: I was to end my parents' lives.

That night, I returned to the home that once brought me comfort. Slipping through a window on the ground floor, I could hear them talking in the next room, their voices a distant murmur. I waited in the shadows for hours, listening as their conversation faded into silence. Finally, the time had come.

I crept into their room, standing over my father as he rested. "He looks so calm," I thought as I raised my sword. In one swift motion, the blade descended, severing his head from his body. A heavy thump echoed through the room as his head hit the floor, followed by a piercing scream. My mother.

Shit

Before she could utter another sound, I clamped my hand over her mouth and drew my blade across her throat, silencing her forever. 

Looming over my parents' lifeless bodies, a deep, burning pit opens within me. What is this feeling? Time seems to freeze as I watch the blood pool around me, my hands drenched in it. The air is heavy with the metallic scent of iron. Each breath feels labored, contrasted by the silence surrounding me. I stand,feeling the numbness creeping through my veins, and drag their bodies towards the bathroom, unfazed by the grim task at hand.

I presented the remains before me, the bones of my parents and their decapitated heads. I was gifted with a brand—the symbol of the Raven Queen burned into the middle of my back. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming connection to my faith. It was as if I was finally growing into my true self, becoming more powerful with each passing day.