Sleeping is an impossible task. Every time I close my eyes they are standing there, looking down at me – their faces twisted in a haunting dichotomy of life and death. They scream yet don’t make a sound. As oxymoronic as my desire to live by taking lives. Each person. Every single one. Every single victim of my twisted work. The children who were destined for greatness before I snuffed out their life. The parents whom I tormented by killing their children before their very eyes. Their cries once did not touch my soul. To me, they were toys – their lives mine to play with. Each kill was a great poem but now all I feel is remorse. Look at me. I will never live on as anything more than a twisted person who died where they belonged – alone and forgotten. Was this all I was destined for? Was this the extent of my life? All I can do now is look forward and think about my next steps or else the wave of misery and depression hits. I do need sleep – or do I? Do I deserve to close my eyes and dream when I took that blessing away from so many? I run a finger down Savra’s spine. She… it… I… how could something so small create such cruelty? When Savra was created, it was so that even the thickest of hides could be butchered. It was made to bring communities life and ease, but I corrupted its purpose with my dark intent. How could I be anything but evil? I know deep down that there was no good in me. I know that pure evil is all my soul could be but… but now what am I? If I went back to the plane of purity, would it purify these feelings and allow me to be pure and evil once more? Am I forever tarnished by empathy and regret? This is a cruel and twisted curse. I want to end it all but lack the strength to do it.
Darkness.
I fall through the cylinder of eyes once more. The endless purple glow menacingly fills the air. For once I truly am afraid. I still want to peel back the purple barrier and see beyond – I still have my thoughts and desires – I am still Fa Fumerunner but… I cannot bare to think about killing or even blood for that matter. The idea of inflicting pain sickens me to my very core. Memories of screams send cold shivers down my spine and uncontrollable sweat to my forehead.
“I thought you loved suffering, but I don’t think you had anticipated this. Something so simple and yet so effective.”
That damn voice again.
“Indeed. So, how are you feeling? Look a little tired there, Fa.”
I… I am so… so very tired. Just leave me alone and let me sleep.
“Emotions are draining, huh? Tears really take it out of you, not that you would have ever experienced this before. We need to have a conversation now so no; you will have to endure my selfishness.”
I just… Can I please ask you something?
“Oh! Suddenly polite, are we? Well then, ask away.”
How long will it take before I stop feeling… all of this?
“Oh, that will never go away – what do you think the curse is? I am curious if you can guess.”
You have given me empathy?
“Well, in some regards yes. It goes a little deeper than that. I heard you wondering about what would happen if you went back to the plane of purity and I am the unfortunate bearer of bad news. You see, souls are complex and personalities are endless. The plane of purity does its best to make everything pure and therefore creates some unfortunate situations. Good versus evil is one of them. Everyone is born with a percentage of good and evil in them. Let’s say it's 51:49, you are ever so slightly more good than evil. To make you ‘pure’, however, the plane would make you 100:0 – so pure good. This is especially brutal as a child. Adults who venture to the plane of purity have so much complexity going on that such a simple shift does not often happen.”
I know all this. I don’t need this re-explained. Get on with it.
“Yes, yes. I just wanted to remind you of that. It is quite important to understand if you care about what your curse is.”
Oh.
“Indeed. Now that I have gone over all that, what do you think your curse is?”
I am cursed to always be slightly good – 51:49?
“Indeed! Well, it’s more of a flip. Empathy, regretting your actions, wanting to help people instead of tormenting them? All those emotions stem from a fundamental shift of who you are. Now if you went back to the plane of purity? Nothing would change.”
You are enjoying this immensely, aren’t you? My indecisions and overwhelming emotions.
“Immensely? That’s a good word. Yes, I very much immensely am.”
Can I ask you another question?
“But of course, my dear Fa. Ask away!”
How much longer before I am out of this road? I wish to leave and never come back. I understand why one should never walk this road and I swear if you remove the curse I would rather die than return here. It goes against nature and I am truly sorry for even taking a single step on this dark road.
“Oh, you think it’s that simple? No, Fa. This is a curse for life. You went against the very fabric of reality. You chose to enter Langnet’s road and spat in the face of Wol’zarath by doing so. You insulted life itself with each blasphemous step taken. This punishment shall stay with you until you lose all hope and even then, you shall suffer until turning into a husk of a person – devoid of everything but sadness and fear. Then, and only then, shall I call for your death.”
It's not my fault! I was forced to travel through here!
“No, you weren’t. Do not lie to me. I have been watching you since the first step! YOU DARE LIE TO ME?! YOU OPENED THE DOOR! YOU WALKED IN WITHOUT A SINGLE SOUL FORCING YOU! YOU CHALLENGED ME UPON ENTRY!”
What is this pressure? I need to hold my eyes in their sockets. I need to hold my breath so my lungs don’t collapse. I need to curl up so my limbs don’t get torn from my body. Pain – blood – agony. PLEASE! STOP! The pressure suddenly subsides. My body goes numb and limp.
“Apologies, I lost my temper there. The long and short of it is yes, you will die cold and alone. This curse will never end. Your suffering shall never end. Any other questions?”
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I… I don’t know what to ask or say. I need a moment.
“Please, take your time, oh murderer Fa Fumerunner.”
My jaw clenches instinctively at the word ‘murderer’. Fucking tears dripping down my face – a sensation I am all too familiar with now. It’s harder to think. My body is hot. Fuck. I can’t think… the faces, the voices, the screams, the pain, the lives lost – what have I done?!
“That is not a question.”
You bast – no, you are right. How… how much longer before I reach the plane of pleasure?
“Well, it would be half a day but unfortunately, it seems your precious Mosline – it was Mosline, right? Well, she has finally kicked the bucket.”
I-
“Isn’t the plan to butcher her now?”
I… I… that…
“What, you don’t actually care about the horse do you? You knew it was on its last legs. You planned to kill her all along. It was just a matter of time, right? It’s not like you actually care about something, right?”
Let me… let me go back. Please.
Laughter echoes in my mind.
I blink and am sitting with Mosline’s head on my lap. She is still breathing but each breath is shallow and pained. She looks so sad but cannot move – I need to end it. I need to stop the misery. Fucking tears. Sadness is such a useless emotion. It wastes time and energy. In one swift motion I can cut her head clean off. I’ve done it before, countless times before. I close my eyes and squeeze Savra’s hilt, raising her above my head. Fuck I can’t do it. I need to. I have done this so many times before. Please… please just swing Savra, Fa. I can see the faces of each victim staring back at me. Some shake their heads and others nod – what do I do?! Please, guide me. I know I’m the reason you are here but please, I will do anything to make this right! Let me kill Mosline as a mercy. My eyes shoot open and with an unbridled blood-curdling scream I cut Mosline’s head clean off.
Blood. So much blood. So much gore. The last breath. I would normally revel in this, bathing and drinking it in but I am frozen. Blood mixes with tears, snot, and spit. Everything is hazy. Blurry. Red and black and purple. How could I have done this… was I a bad owner? If I gave her more rests, would she still be with me? No, I didn’t have control of my body! She was old when I got her! None of this is my fault! What is wrong with me? My legs buckle and with a loud splash, I look up to see the purple eyes starting back. I am unable to move or think straight. All I can do is lie down and rub the blood from my eyes and face as it spurts furiously at me. At least poor Mosline is at peace now.
“What did Mosline do to deserve this fate, Savra? Why… why are you so awful? You were designed to help and now all you do is kill? How many lives have you ended? How many people have you tortured? How much suffering have you caused? Fuck I would throw you away but I can’t. I need protection. I still need… you. But… but… no. I have the skills. Can fight and protect, not that anyone would ever want me by their side but maybe, just maybe I can make a case for myself. When I am out of here, I can convince others that I am good. No… no, that sounds awful. Outside of how stupid that sounds, I cannot leave here until my collar is paid off. There are other Fumerunners so I won’t be missed as a guide. Maybe I can risk it and see if the plane of potential is merciful to me and the collar pops off. That might be my only chance here – gambling it all to see if I get a beneficial result. There is no way I can pay everything off through work and everyone is out to get me, and rightfully so. If I was in their shoes, I would have done the exact same thing. At least I can do good by transporting goods… yes. Yes! This is my punishment and burden, but also my way of giving back to the communities and people and lives I have torn asunder. I will stay here, moving and delivering goods until my collar is paid off without a single complaint. Then I will leave and spend the rest of my time alive delivering goods from plane to plane. I can protect those who cannot fend for themselves. I can be a force for good. I can… I must… do good.”
Fuck, why am I saying this? Why am I thinking this? Who am I? I am no longer Fa Fumerunner – I am… pathetic. Weak and pathetic. The very prey I would normally dispatch without a second thought.
I put Mosline’s bit on my chest and walk forward. The cart is so heavy and the bit tears into my chest. I don’t know if my muscles can take it – I must get the cart to its destination. Each step is agony! I can’t keep this up – I have to keep this up! If I arrive with fewer goods, then people will be sad and disappointed with me. I must push forward! This is my first step to being the force of good I can be – NO! I am evil! No, I am good. I want to kill – I want to help. Who am I? What am I becoming?
I walk forward, screaming. I cannot hear anything but my wails blending with the thousands of screams I caused. My throat burns with pain. I continue crying out until my voice box can no longer handle it, and still, I silently scream with each slow, excruciating step I take. I am out of food. I am out of water. I need to move forward, one step at a time. Mosline, I did not deserve you. I am a fool who deserves each thrum of pain. Each pulse of agony. Each muscle straining under a weight you shouldered for weeks without a single complaint as I planned your demise.
A door.
A heavy wooden door with ‘Plane of Pleasure’ burnt into it.
I stop moving and the cart rolls to a slow halt.
I pull back on the door and with a loud creak it slowly opens.
I manage to drag my limp body a few steps forward before collapsing. My legs are not responsive. My arms are numb. All I can do is weakly hold Savra. Silhouettes cautiously approach me. I hear the cart’s wheels creak and roll past. A shadow looms over me. I cannot speak or feel, but I can hear perfectly.
“Fa Fumerunner. I have heard a lot about you – we all have. You sucked the pleasure out of so many lives. You killed my parents, not that you remember your victims. Here is a reminder. They wrote books and painted, bringing pleasure to many around Wol’zarath. Here is a picture of them.”
Something is thrust before me – an unfocused blur of colour in a brass locket is all I can make out.
“Not that you would remember their faces but let me remind you. They came to the fumes of Fael for inspiration. They wanted to paint the ‘wonderful and exquisite fume landscapes’.”
Oh Fael, I remember. I can hear them. Their pain. Their agony. I can see their faces – please stop! Please! I am sorry! I am so, so sorry!
“It was going to be the front cover of a children’s book. You led them into a cloud of colourless fume that paralyzed them, and then you forcefully filled their stomach and lungs with paint. The same paint that drew the together. Drowned by their passion and love. Killed by the exact thing that gave them pleasure.”
I can only take sharp breaths. I have no energy – no tears are left after Moslines death. Please stop, I can still hear their gurgles and feel their tears. I painted over their eyes so they couldn’t see or weep to each other as they died… but I can see their painted eyes looking at me now. I can’t bare their piercing gaze. It takes all my willpower to muster a single sentence.
“Please… I… am… sorry.”
The figure presses their ear next to my mouth. I repeat the words with a trembling voice.
“Look at you. Covered in blood – I bet you couldn’t stop yourself from killing the horse! I bet you needed to roll in blood! You are an animal – no, animals have souls. You aren’t even an insect. You are not even a stone; you are a speck of dirt. How dare you apologise to me!”
My head snaps to the side painlessly. My body is beyond that right now but my mind aches.
“You did manage to bring the goods with minimal damages. There are a few scuffs, mind you, but not many. I am not so evil that I would damage a perfectly good delivery to spite you. Why waste a single extra second on you – you don’t deserve to be remembered.”
There is a deep sigh.
“I suppose you did one good thing. No one knew where my parents’ bodies were and you, in your last moment on trial, allowed me to get closure. It was horrifying but at least I got to see them one last time and say goodbye. I will never forgive you. I will never accept your apology. That being said, I won’t kill you. You can sleep in a cage with a bed in it and get a week’s worth of supplies. You can rest and will be given a new horse instead of Dregs. If this horse dies, I can’t say this mercy will be given to you again. You have a week to recover before you go back through Langnet’s road.”
I don’t want to go back… but I must. I must. There is a click of cold metal around my wrists. Savra is wrenched from my grasp with little resistance. I take shallow breaths. The shadow disappears.
“Now let’s drag this fucker to his cell.”
Colours swirl and fly away from my senses. My consciousness raises from the floor. I twist, drag, and glide forward. Blacks… reds… browns… greens… browns… whites… thud.
At long last… darkness.