How will I kill you?

Nowadays, this is the only thought that keeps me sane. 

Maybe one day, you will lower your guard, commit a mistake, and I will reach you as you sleep.

But so far, my soul's whispers fall on deaf ears, your heart locked away and zealously guarded.

As I used to chop trees and wood, I relish the thought of doing the same to you.

Alas, while my old and rusty axe chops through plenty of people lately, none of them are you.

These cold hands deathly grasp have ended many lives, because of you.

The skills that used to keep me feed; hunting, killing, skinning and butchering, are now used to find others and turn them to materials.

And all of it, I do it for you.

Once, I despaired at my actions, even as I committed them. But now, I know I have been made stronger for it.

All my anguish.

All this bloodshed. 

All these hardships.

The tears that even now refuse to fall from my dried eyes.

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All of it has been to prepare me for this moment. 

My arms swing the blunt, rusty remains of my dear axe relentlessly, more crushing than cutting, for what feel like hours.

I can't tire anymore.

Tears and gashes accumulate on my body, black viscera and yellow bones coming into view.

I cannot feel pain, and neither do I bleed.

Nor do my “companions” as they fight and kill, and do so again and again until their bodies are useless.

It appears as though the whole town militia has come for us this time.

Your voice calls to me through my tattered soul, and so my body turns from the carnage it is submerged into and staggers elsewhere.

Like a sailor heeding the call of a siren, my body navigates through the forest unerringly to your side.

And there you are, laying on the floor and clutching your bleeding arm, face full of pain and hatred towards the warrior ready to end your life. 

But that's why you called me.

The mask of ire turns to a mocking grin just before my body tackles the warrior's back, and in the ensuing frenzy you gather enough strength to blast the offender with black lightning.

My body is in tatters now, while my foe lies smoking and twitching on the ground.

He will probably become my replacement.

I almost let myself despair at your mad clacking, knowing my fate is sealed, but when I turn my eyes upon you once more, I see it. 

There on the forest floor, lay a string of small, shriveled black things.

One of which was my heart.

Maybe, you saw something in my eyes, or felt it with your sorcery, but your already pale visage was painted in fear for the first time, and you struggled to gather your strength and rise.

Well, as your loyal servant, I ought to help you to your feet, shouldn't I?

It was just a tragic coincidence that I ended up crushing the amulet along the way.

Thus, what remained of my soul was set free, the arcane strings over my body unraveling by the moment, and for an instant, for the first time in years, my body was my own.

Long enough for a howl equal parts rage and bestial hunger to tear through my throat as I fell upon you.

As my soul scattered to whatever destination the heavens fated among a flurry of violence and screams, my only regret was that the feral thing that was my body couldn't use my axe to do the deed.