I have lost track of time in the midst of this dark hole. I miss that warmth already. Now all I can feel is the stickiness on my hands and face from the dried blood. My grandfather's blood. My entire face and hands itch... I want to tear at my face and hands until they bleed. Just to make this feeling go away. I feel so... cold. I have no room for any real thought while dwelling on this feeling. I'm still in a daze... I feel nothing... I see nothing... I hear... nothing. I feel so empty sitting here, I feel helpless. I feel worthless. I remember the king's eyes. I'm nothing more than shit.

I hug my knees tightly and cry silently. I have no more room for thoughts anymore, just emotion. I let my mind drift... My eyes close but it makes no difference to the dark.

*^*

A chair. I'm sitting in that old wooden chair. I can still feel everything. I was younger then. My hands feel so stubby. One of my servants is reading from a book. This was before I could read. "Young master are you sure you want me to read this? This is an old poem written by... Clark Mangantaire... a paladin..." I nod my small head.

"I can hear my lingering breaths,

A chorus that's boiling my blood,

A raging and berserking song,

The pounding of my beating heart,

It echoes through an endless dark."

The room almost seems to break away. I can see flashes of a man. In a black cloak holding a sword. I can hear the pounding of his heart before he matches into a horde of enemies. I hold my ears because I can't stop this nagging in the back of my head but the poem is still being read, crisply and clearly.

"We ran blindly through the dark,

No stopping for refreshing breath.

This rage is something not my own,

It twines itself within my blood,

It stirs my ever sleeping heart,

I can hear its resounding song.

The scenery changes again. The same man is cutting down men with his sword. He is smiling. The pounding in my head gets louder... and heavier. I feel like I'm being struck...

"This spirit's soul, a dying song,

Is ever lost in endless dark.

The sadness tearing at my heart,

It steals away my dying breaths.

My lonely tears becoming blood,

And they are none except my own."

Suddenly the man collapses to his knees in a pool of blood. Like all of the lives he had taken are weighing him down. He is alone surrounded by pools of blood. This pounding... in my head... make it stop!

"With these melodies none can own,

We will construct a corrupt song,

Accented by a veil of blood,

In hope of scattering the dark,

And circumventing ghastly breath,

Constructing a tenacious heart."

These images... the man... his face seems almost older. He is being congratulated. He's staring blankly at playing children... at a flag being raised... yet he continues to fight. The pounding is calming in my mind...

"The beat is dying with my heart,

This pain is nothing but my own.

O' with an agonizing breath,

I sing a last berserking song.

I march on blind, into the dark,

Despite the ever pouring blood."

The pounding in head is gone... the man... I don't know why but... I can understand. He is still fighting... for something he doesn't believe in.

"My body caked in drying blood,

Displays my ever beating heart,

As it echoes throughout the dark.

The sound is twisting on its own,

It's stringing together a song,

Between it's each erratic breath." 

The man... he is covered in blood. He is clawing at himself in his sleep. My chest is hurting...

"My breath resounds throughout my blood.

The song thrumming in my heart,

Is but my own and ever dark."

I can feel it... his regret.

*^*

I startle awake. The air in my lungs is heavy in my chest. What was that dream? That poem... I remember it. The title was A Fanatic's Lost Dream. Why did I remember it now? What were those images flashing about my dream... I don't know. I just have to focus on getting out of this place for now.

***

"It is time." Says the creepy guard with his face covered by the hood of his silver cloak.

I get up and am led once more before the pig. I guess we walked in at the wrong time, or maybe he simply likes to show off his dolls, because one was 'lounging' about on his fat stomach like a damned waterbed. When the door open she covered herself up and sneakily left through a side door in the hall. I heard her moans before we even came in... I suppose it may not have been a lie when the king called my grandfather "old friend"... right before he killed him... mercilessly... and without pardon. "Old friend" my ass.

I'm rather irritable and not myself at the moment. I'm guessing locking someone in a stinking cage with nothing but the dark and the rats to keep them company does that to a person. My anger lately had been quite tame... I think the jolly ol' king fixed that fucking problem. I really don't know what I'm feeling at this moment... I don't even know how to feel in this moment kneeling before man that ruined a start to what I thought would be a happy life... am I not allowed happiness?

I take a deep breath in an attempt to purge all of these... foul... emotions welling up in my chest. It doesn't work to well but the air is more fresh here than in that place filled with rot. The clean air helps stir the fog clouding my mind. I have to focus on what to do next. 

I hear Gauren Welting and the tapping of his fancy little boots as he walks to my side. He kneels. He looks towards me slightly and grins at my dirty clothes that smell of death. I think he especially smiled when noticed the dried blood on my hands and face. I want him to eat his teeth at this moment... I want to make him eat shit.

The king probably noticed this exchange because his deformed face scrunched into what I believe was a smile. Was that just a smile? I can't tell right now because I'm still kneeling, head slightly lowered, so far beneath him...

He rubs his greasy hands together before chuckling as he says, "Well well... quite the fighting spirit you two. It's early in the morning but a love a good show." He then waves to some men at the side a wall. "Strip them. I don't want them using any magical artifacts to spoil the fun. Especially him! The robe he is wearing was likely a gift from his grandfather, I can feel the mana rolling off of it." He points to me.

At least we are both equal in this fact. We are both being stripped of all items but our grimoire. When we are both naked from head to toes, and it's all hanging free, we were handed some plain white robes. We turn to face the pig king. His face is scrunched and he is rubbing his chin while looking at me. I think he noticed my curse... or rather I should start calling it a blessing. Although at the moment I have to keep calm to keep this thing under my control.

*CLAP* *CLAP* *CLAP*

"Interesting... Interesting... Let them in!" The king's ivory white teeth are displayed in his shit eating grin. He claps... he says these words... the door opens.

First seven young men ranging from about thirty to ten walk in before taking their seats, that had been previously set by servants, at the side of the great hall. Next come in thirteen young women ranging from about late twenties to a small three year old. One of them was Flara... her eyes looked a little red and puffy... she was crying. She is wearing a red dress long enough to cover her ankles. Between her strides I catch a glimpse of a bruise on her leg. I'll kill them.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

In the midst of my seething rage I calm at the king's words, "Well my sons and daughters I called you here today to bear witness to the duel. This duel will decide to whom your sister, Flara, is to marry. I expect a good show... Put up the mana barrier." He pointed to a man in a corner of the room who flipped some sort of lever. The symbols... on the floor... they are glowing intensely with mana as a large barrier of the relatively clear stuff surrounds us. It's a magical array. I don't think I've ever seen one this large. I tap it in curiosity. It stings my fingertips.

"Alright boys of the great families. Begin." The king waves his hand in a bored fashion while telling us to begin.

"*mumbling incomprehensible gibberish*" It seems my rival is starting.

He finished his incantation in an instant...

Fuck! This is bad. Why this magic? I think he is a sort of water/light mage... he is going to use illusions. The barrier is already so filled with fog that I can hardly see... but I can see shadows moving about the mist.

"Over here..."

"This way..."

The voices are all around me... in the fog. I can see flashes of shadows here and there but nothing. This isn't even the hall anymore. I'm thinking... trying to keep my head on tight as the voices twirl about me... it's unnerving... not seeing them that is.

Suddenly light floods into fog. It refracts off each droplet in the air forming a blinding light. I close my eyes. I'm just standing here like a damned fool. Wait. In that moment I lost control over my curse. I can feel my connection to shit. He is to my left. I will the tentacles to latch onto the shit lying in his intestines. I don't need eyes to feel it... how strange. My curse to anyone else would probably kill any living creature near them... but due to my magic I can control it, with effort. 

I hear swishing sounds of rolling fog but I ignore it. I don't want kill him so easily so I have to focus. I control the shit in his intestines to go up. The fog starts to dissipate showing a disgusting sight. I am still controlling it to snake up his intestines. I'm reversing his digestive system. He is now on the marble floor. I think I heard some of the princess' scream. 

You can see a bulge snaking it's way up his stomach. He is clutching it and crying out. I smile, I don't know why but his pain is bringing me quite the joy. I make the snake of shit squirm up into his stomach. By now he was already coughing up blood and half digested food. Now here comes the long train of shit, out his mouth. As this happens I laugh. It was too simple. He is already dead.

"Hahahahahahahahaa! Eat shit you Welting bastard!" 

I take a deep breath to calm myself. I retracted my control. The shit splatters onto the king's once pristine marble floor. I look at Flara. She has a hand over her mouth and is crying. I think I scared her. My joy is turning rather sour.

"Get me out of here. Give me back my cloak!" I'm not often one to make demands but this is a different matter.

***

It has been a few hours since the fight. Or perhaps I should call it a slaughter. I killed him one sidedly. Does this make me a butcher? I really don't know. After the fight I quickly donned my robe. I didn't really have a chance to talk to Flara before she ran out crying. The king said nothing to me and just calIed for a cleaning crew. I heard her sisters talking as I left the hall quietly. 

"Tch, why does that little bitch get to have such a strong husband?"

"Unfair. She doesn't even appreciate such a strong mage. She ran off crying like baby."

I clenched my fist at the time. I had to swallow my rage. They wouldn't understand anyway. I hate this magic.

After that I was led to a surprisingly well furnished room. It was clean and a tad too fancy for me. Too fucking clean and nice for me. I like to be closer to the element my magic controls I suppose. After all I'm nothing more than a piece of shit that makes a girl cry.

I got a scolding hot bath to remove this filth... and my grandfather's blood. I'm now sitting on the bed clutching my head quietly. I keep seeing her crying face and I realize how I let my darker emotions take hold during that fight. I want to be a righteous knight yet I laugh at my enemies as they are in agony? What kind of righteousness is that?

I sigh before wiping tears dripping from the brim of my eyes. I don't know what I'm doing. I feel lost.

*creak~*

I look up after hearing a creaking floorboard. ...It's Flara. She is standing there and looking down at me. She is rubbing her eyes. I notice she is dressed into a loose night gown. I get up and help her wipe her tears. I feel bad... I kind of wish I could have hidden that side of myself from her. Too late now.

She looks up at me. Her eyes like glowing rubies. She says timidly, "I-I'm... sorry... I ran away from you... *sniffle* I just didn't like seeing you that way. It hurt... it hurt my heart seeing you like that." She lowered her head and began crying. I pulled her close to my chest. I tried to keep myself from crying but I couldn't. Not when I see her tears. So we are standing here embracing each, holding each other close. As we cry our tears seem to be taking away this odd pain in our hearts. A release.

***

We are now back at the academy. We still live together in that run down shed. I thought she would hate me but rather I think she embraced it. She hardly leaves me alone, I think she is worried about me. I think it is kind of cute.

Still... with my grandfather gone there is going to be some trouble about. His funeral is scheduled to be in several days. When I think about it... it makes me shiver. All of the family will be there and so will representatives from the lesser noble families. A pain in the ass. I don't want to see anyone... but I for some reason believe I owe my grandfather at least much, going to his funeral that is. Without him I don't think I would have the relationship I have right now with Flara. 

I promise him I will make that pig king eat shit one day. Whether it be my magic or when I learn to wield a sword so that I might jab it up his fat ass. I will make him pay. I can still remember his gaze, I'm nothing more than shit in his eyes.

{CHAPTER END}

[NEXT TIME ON MAGIC IS OVERRATED...]

[Funeral, Gathering of a (Not-so) Great Family]

•—•—-•—•

Boring chapter? Anticlimactic fight? Maybe. And yes before you ask I did write that beautiful poem, it was my own twist on a sestina(look it up if you don't know what it is). But yea tell me what you thought... also... super... SUPER CRAZY family members on the horizon. Nothing like a funeral to bring people together.