Sai's eyes opened to the grey, overcast sky. It was as if he had been jolted awake by a violent shock. He did not know whether he was alive, dead, or perhaps somewhere in between. He lay there for what seemed like hours, unmoving. Not for the lack of trying but rather because his body was unresponsive and somewhat numb, as if his limbs were made of lead and his blood of liquid gold.

So, with nothing to do, he lay there some more; he couldn't think about how half the day had been wasted with how high the sun was sitting. How much had he lost? Did it still matter? He did not know.

What else could Sai do but think of nothing instead of how unfair his life was and how many grains he could have ploughed had this been another day, especially given that just last night, he was beaten to the brink of death and his hard work taken from him. His hard work was wasted on someone else; he gritted his teeth, gnashing as he heard them grind against each other.

He might cry if he thought those things, and he'd done enough of that for the night. Not only that but it would be wasted fluid that his body, which had been lying out in the sun, probably needed to reserve.

It must have been a few hours, or at least it felt like it, before Sai could feel any sensation in his limbs, and in that time, he floated in and out of sleep. It spread as light tingles, like blood pumping steadily through his veins, then gradually sped up as each pump of his heart grew stronger. Then it built into the feeling of his skin prickling, and the drumming in his ear grew louder; it was his heartbeat, like thunder rumbling mightily and strongly.

Strange, he thought. Had he ever heard it thump this loudly, and had he ever known the exact feeling of his blood flowing? The day has kept him thinking of strange thoughts he had never conceived. Even his daydreams are strange, mystical, and yet familiar in a way he could not explain.

It showed him places he'd never been or seen, and yet they felt vivid and real like forgotten memories resurfacing back into reality. Iron, the metallic smell of iron, brought him back; it seemed he was surrounded by it. Though this was a grain field, there was no reason for the smell to be present, yet it enveloped Sai—like a vivid memory from another life.

While Sai lay there, he thought about how many times he had ever felt at peace; although he was in pain, the worries of yesterday had started to disappear, and even the prospects of today and the next didn’t seem to stress him anymore. This was what it meant to be nothing; perhaps fighting it all along was the problem, and if he had succumbed to it sooner, he would have found peace. Fate was cruel, but it was the only thing that was certain in this life, and it was Sai’s lot to be a nobody of consequence.

Yes, this was nice, Sai mused to himself. "No more, " he uttered, but his meaning differed this time from when he said those words last.

Maybe he was genuinely dead like he had initially thought; he was beaten to a pulp just the night before. He is more surprised that he is alive rather than dead. All he remembers was how he had been left in such a sorry state. Sai was sure it would be his last day when he closed his eyes. Yet here he was alive. It made him wonder how, though.

The hours passed some more, and the sun was now setting compared to when he awoke to it being high up in the centre of the sky. Its heat was now warm and gentle, like an embrace, compared to the previous scorching burn.

During all that time, while Sai rested on the ground, he had made himself wriggle and move his fingers and toes, patiently working them back to function like a child learning to walk again. It was a humbling and profound feeling. When did he last feel gratitude for his body, a body that was not broken.

Thinking deeply and philosophically, he discovered that one of his hands was broken when he finally gathered enough courage and energy to look at them. His fingers bent to the side, and he turned it side to side, wincing at the pain it induced while he did so. His knuckles had bruises; he suspects his other hand sported the same. However, it got him thinking about whether he had landed any significant blows to the men who had ransacked his sacks; he thought not, at least not on any that would cause such bruisings, no, nothing like that at all.

When he finally found the strength to get up, he took his chances. He knew he needed to take it; otherwise, he would be stuck on the ground until the next day. He didn't mind the idea of rotting away and into the ground, but somehow, the stirring and rumbling in his stomach was enough reason to live another day.

As Sai got into a sitting position, he was surprised that he was not in as much pain as he initially thought. But he was glad nonetheless. Perhaps all the resting he had done was what healed his ailments.

"Oh, my-"he didn't finish his sentence. He looked all around, and what he found shook him down to his bone. Only a few metres from him, a man lay in his front, dark fluids pooled all around him. The shock made Sai bolt to his feet, wanting to confirm what he had seen, wincing with pain as he did. His ribs throbbed and sent tingling feelings across his chest and to the tips of his broken fingers. The sudden movements sent a flurry of stars to his vision, but he chose to ignore it.

What greeted him was even more alarming than he initially thought; there were more bodies scattered nearby, at least half a dozen or so. He did not see things clearly when he was lying down, but still, indeed, he would have known, should have known. The iron he smelt was blood, his, and now he knew theirs.

Sai limped to the closest man, clutching at one of his shoulders to support it. He guesses that, too, was broken. The man was dressed in deep blue and yellow. This was a man of the militia, the royal militia.

"Sir?" he asked, licking his dry lips. His voice shook as he approached, and he trembled at the knees; there was no response from the man. Though he suspected there would be none, he wanted to confirm it first.

"Sir, are you alright?" he gulped, the lump forming in his throat. This time, he had reached him and was crouching down. Sai managed to turn the man over, much to his hesitation.

"Ah!" he choked at the sight that greeted him. The man in question had no face; rather, his likeness no longer existed within the deep slashes, where blood still oozed leisurely.

"My god, what happened?' Sai whispered into the air. He felt nauseous; he wasn't a stranger to death, but this was not just any death. It was violent and full of rage and anger. This was the doing of a madman.

He got up once more to check the others. He was limping badly and sweating profusely. While looking and walking about the field, something amiss began to gnaw at Sai. Something he didn't want to admit, for its strangeness could be akin to him losing his mind.

And it was the fact that he was not in the field he was working only a day ago, nor was it the field that he was beaten almost to death in. This was a completely different location altogether. His heartbeat started to race once again.

There in his gut, an ominous and heavy feeling weighed. How he got there, he didn't know. That feeling in his stomach started to rise up in his chest, making breathing hard, and Sai saw stars; it was that or the sudden activity. As he turned to each body, it was clear to him that not a single one of them was alive. Their bodies were cold, as if they had been cooling for quite some time. Sai observed that these men had been dead for at least a day, maybe even two.

"Ugh," vile fluids retched up Sai's throat. It was acidic and sticky, clinging around his mouth as he tried to spit it out. It was a sticky mucus mixed in with some brownish-red clumps, which he believed to be blood. Perhaps he did bleed internally and will soon die.

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"What's going on?" he asked into thin air. Not knowing what is happening. The strangeness of it all made his head spin with wild thoughts. A cold wind blew and rattled the medallions hanging on the dead men's bodies. Sai shivered at the sound, the ringing of metal in the silence of nature an unsettling combination.

Perchance, it was a fight between bandits and the guards; Sai did hear of those stories around town. He nodded as he tried to convince himself. That would be reasonable enough, but it didn't explain him. Why had he been moved to this place, wherever it may be? Even the location is a mystery to Sai. This field had no grains; instead, it was a hayfield.

It came to him that those who beat him up may be responsible. Did they have further plans for him and end up entangled with the guard? Did they want to finish what they started? But that didn't make any sense either. The guards are known for their corruption, but they would not interfere with the lowborns like them. Was I placed here to be the fall guy? Sai's mind went to all sorts of scenarios, but nothing felt right. It didn't quite fit the puzzle; that was why he had been there in the first place.

Only one thing was clear. Sai needed to get as far away from the bodies and the scene as possible. He didn't want to be involved, nor could he afford it.

Who was to say what they would do to someone like him, turning this matter to the authorities and claiming no involvement. They'll only need one glance at his state to know that Sai was involved in some fight. They won't wait to ask for his side of the story. All they'll see is the corpses of the royal army, and they will peg him down as one of the bandits and execute him on the spot. He was smart enough to know you don't have a say when you have no influence or power.

Sai knew that whatever happened here was no longer his business, and he had to go as far as possible. He bit his lips as he looked around the mangled piles of bodies; some were more flesh than body, and he felt a pang of guilt.

"It can't be helped," he convinced himself, but the heaviness in his chest didn't leave. Turning, he started to walk away from the site, the hay sticking to any exposed skin and prickling as he did so.

As he collected himself to leave the premises, something in his gut urged him to look back at the bodies one last time-

"You monster-"someone cried, the voice seeming to come from the first body that Sai found. But that's impossible! Sai chalked it up to nerves.

"Monsters!" the voice blurted out again.

"What?" Sai stumbled, falling to his back, and he uttered in surprise. He blinked hard and found that nothing was awry. No one was there. He looked around again, cautious and scared.

What was that, and how did he imagine that man's voice to be that? He pushed at his palms to get up from the ground, but something held onto his wrist. A bloody severed hand.

"You won't get away from this," a voice to Sai's left whispered, and a shiver travelled down his spine.

Sai looked down at his hand and found nothing, but he could have sworn that he felt a hand gripping him tightly and holding him down.

"I'm losing my mind; this can't be happening", he uttered out loud to no one but himself, clear evidence of his insanity.

He was shaking his head vigorously, trying to shake off the hysteria while on his knees, but unexpectedly, he felt something splatter on his face. He stilled in place. Slowly, he lifted his right hand to his face and ever so slowly brushed it across the wet splash he felt. He felt his lungs contract with the sharp inhale as he gasped at the sight of deep red. It was blood.

"No, no, no, no, no," Sai jumped to stand, swaying as he did. The sudden movement laced his muscles with pain. He tried to bolt out, but a hand grabbed his shoulder, turning him to face a soldier, the one with a missing arm.

"You? What are you?" the man sputtered out as blood gushed out his mouth. The blade displayed out on his feet where his dismembered right hand still gripped it. Before then, falling at Sai's feet.

Sai lurched a hand out to catch the man before he hit the ground, but his feet would not allow him to move. He watched as the man faded like a forgotten mirage, like sand swirling away with the wind.

"What have you done?! Lieutenant Leonel!" Sai heard another scream, their voice echoing as if they were distant yet near. He shivered at the sound of the voice. It was the sound of someone in pure agony.

"Who are you!?" Sai shouted out in the field. The sky had darkened considerably, and dusk was near. Shadows where there had been none were starting to appear.

"No, what are you?" the voice echoed and rang in Sai's head. The voice was haunted and vacant.

"This is all in my head!" Sai groaned as the ringing in his head started to worsen. He held onto the sides of his head, hoping to block the sounds, but to no avail. He shook it hard, trying to shake off the crazy hallucinations. Sai hadn't died; no, it was a lot worse. He had gone mad.

"You're a monster sent by the devils!" this time, Sai felt the sharp, cold steel pressed upon his throat, and he looked down to see that a broad sword was resting on his neck. Blood started to pour slowly into his chest. His fingers reached for his neck, and there he found that the skin where he was cut was raised. He watched the blood travel down until it soaked his tunic. A tunic that didn't belong to him. "Thi-thi-this isn't my shirt," Sai stuttered out, his voice brittle and unsteady, the chill in the air engulfing him.

The clothing he wore the day before was a burlap sack he had fashioned to a shirt and thin linen trousers. But now, upon closer inspection, he could see that he was wearing a navy blue woollen coat over a linen tunic that was crusty and stained brown from aged blood.

"Monsters like you should die!" the soldier roared; his eyes were bloodshot and manic as he raised his sword from Sai's neck and swung it back to slash his neck.

"You're mistaken! This is all a misunderstanding, this is all -"Sai yelled out a desperate plea, repeating it over and over again. Sai, knowing that he would die, in defence, raised an arm out and was about to close his eyes, prepping for the end, a bright light illuminated in the form of a thick thread before then evolving into a slash.

"What was that?" Sai shouted. He felt a warm liquid spray on his face. His mouth was agape, and some spilled in. He felt the warm liquid in his mouth; it was thick and tasted of copper coins.

"What was that?!" one of the soldiers in the distance repeated Sai's sentiments simultaneously while the one who held Sai at sword point was screaming in agony, blood spraying everywhere. Spraying even in Sai's open mouth.

"My arm! What have you done, you devil!" he groaned word for word, with each coming more strained after the other.

Through the chaos, Sai got up, and once he regained his balance, he started running. Despite all the protests his body gave him, he ran. He didn’t look back; no, he didn’t want to look, not at all. The things that were unfolding before him had him questioning his sanity. But the pain was there. His shoulders throbbed with every thrust of his arms into the air. His leg muscles cramped into knots with every stride. His lungs burned and filled with blood as his heart pumped harder than ever. If the beating had not killed him, this would surely have done it.

As Sai reached the edge of the field and entered a great forest, something reached out and hooked onto his ankles, making him trip so hard that he felt his shoulder pop out. It was a trap made with intricate knots of metal wiring. Then he heard them again. The voices and ghosts had followed him.

"We've got him this time! Seize that murderous monster!" a man shouted with conviction, his voice carried through like they were really there.

To Sai's surprise, they were. And it wasn't one man this time taking a turn to haunt him; it was all of them armed with their swords. They were all bloody, their uniforms torn in places, revealing gashing wounds. They were all lined up, ready for battle. But with whom? Him? Sai could not comprehend the thought since he found it incredulous.

"Leave me alone!" Sai was determined to fight back this time, even if they were mere words.

They started approaching Sai, but he was still entangled in the traps. They were mere steps away from him, each with their sword ready to strike a killing blow.

"Please, please, please,” Sai begged the walking corpses that had somehow found life, like a coward, pleading for his worthless life.

As the men were ready to kill Sai, another bright light shot into the air. This time, it was brighter and more powerful, and the land around them vibrated in synergy with the light, heat erupting from all around like an untamed wildfire. Finally, the taunting voices were silenced. And just like how they came, they vanished, briefly, unexpectedly, and into nowhere.

The absolute darkness engulfed the area, and the stillness of the forest remained, with no winds to sway its branches and no moonlight to illuminate the way. Sai fell to his knees, hitting the cold, hard ground in the woods. He held on to the trunk of the nearby tree. Holding for dear life or what is left of it. His breaths were shallow. Each was laboured and hard to consume; his hair dripped with sweat to his brows, stinging his eyes. But he didn't care; they blended the tears that were flowing.

He didn't know why, but somehow, he knew that his delusions would no longer follow him here; the nightmare had ended. They were merely ghosts.

That was when it hit Sai. His eyes widened as he exhaled frosty breaths, goosebumps forming even under his sweat. His veins filled with icy blood, chilling him from the inside out. His gut clenched at the realisation. "No…it can't be," he cried out, his voice shaky as he stammered. He shook his head in denial.

"No," he uttered, but only a broken whisper this time.

Those were neither delusions nor nightmares plaguing him; they were memories—his memories. Their ghosts reminded Sai of what had happened and transpired that left those men to such fates, fates he had ended.