“So you think it’s time?” The gentle rumble in my mind asks a question I have been asking for the last 10 years. Is it time? His voice and presence in my inner world has kept me sane for this decade of isolation.

When I first arrived on this mountain, it was all such a blur. The essence, my guardian, my father’s death, the insanity afterwards…and my family. I haven’t seen them in 10 years. I can still see my mother’s disbelief on her face. She knew though. One look at me riding on the back of a bear covered in blood. She was crying even before I made it through the gate…a non-operational gate.

The disbelief then passed to my sister, armed with a spear…watching me ride up on a bear of incredible power. Unlike my mother though, she got herself under control and had me cleaned and packed up in under an hour. I had survival manuals, tools, extra clothes, and even some dried food.

She whispered in my ear then, just out of range of my mother and brothers. “Wait for as long as you can before coming back. Whatever happened today will not settle down for years. When you do come back, be strong enough to protect yourself…from everyone, including your brothers.” The last part of that statement has me confused for a very long time. As I look back now, I can see it in the glimpses of my brothers eyes. Greed. Anger. While I was gathering my packs, they must have talked with my sister about something. Maybe they wanted to turn me in…to who, I don’t know. For what? I don’t know. There was something glinting there.

And then I was off. I don’t think I was in the homestead longer than an hour or two. As, we walked away, I don’t think the tears ever stopped, but they slowed…and then I was asleep. I didn’t step into my inner world, I was too exhausted for that, I just slept. When I awoke, I was at the top of mountain. The clouds were below me, and the sky above. It wasn’t like every story told about the tops of mountains. It was green, with life everywhere. It was warm, with fresh springs of water dotted throughout the landscape. On one side, there was a ledge that seemed to overhang the entire world. Here is where the bear began to teach me essence arts.

I felt guilty for a long time. I felt guilty for the death of my father. By the time I came to terms with his death, I began to feel guilt for all the death I caused. Years later, the essence told me of the deaths. All over the world, I had created such a spike of pain, that several hundred thousand people died.

Only one died by my hand though…only the Princess of the Seat.

I could hear her voice, the scream for my death. When she failed the first time, she tried again. The rage had already taken hold by that point, the essence song ripped the world apart and turning her to dust. I was seven years-old and I had committed murder. Self-defense to be sure, but the blood is still there some days. The echos of my rage still haunt me in my nightmares.

For three years after the Shattering, my life was on automatic. I woke up, I bathed, I ate...berries mainly, my guardian has a penchant for honey and berries…and then I would sit and walk around my inner world. It was the only safe place. I hadn’t killed anyone there. My father’s blood was not in there. I grew the world. I expanded my hillock of flowers to encompass a massive valley. I created waterfalls of essence, rivers of grass, and forests of color. The bear taught me how to pull in a variety of essences, what feelings to use…and what mindset to guide them with.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Three years of peace, and then I heard the voice of a butterfly. It was quiet this time. Reproachful. As it landed on my hand, all I could do was cry and ask forgiveness for the pain I had caused. Soon, my valley of flowers had turned to a sea of butterflies. They began to sing.

It was absolute beauty to this young murderer. I could hear my guardian, humming a bass line to the voices of essence. My tears flowed and flowed, until I was dry. I cried in my inner world and my outer world, until nothing more would come.

At that point, the voices as one, forgave me and understood my pain. I would need to atone for the damage I caused this world, but I could not do that as I was. They told me of the deaths I had indirectly caused. They told me of pain I had caused them.

For the next seven years I focused on controlling my emotions, or at least shielding them from the essence around me. I tried to recover the joy I once had as a child, to share it with the essence. It was difficult. I could create beauty, but I only had the life experiences of a small child. I couldn’t create a grand beauty that a lifetime could produce. This was the revelation my guardian brought to me.

As I got older, we would travel to the base of the mountain, and review the world in the immediate area. I would listen to the essence of the plane, and find the beasts in need. There were many.

My song of rage had shattered the minds of many Strongs. Their voices broken, singing a discordant song. I could heal them, bring the structure back, but I couldn’t let them join the song as they once had.

I had to kill again. Many times over the years. A small child wandering the woods covered in blood and tears.

Yet, it wasn’t all sad. There were some beasts who were born after the shattering. Strong in mind and soul. The balance of the plane seems to have been applied. Those with Strong tunning had a better control. Maybe it was because the number of singers had fallen, or maybe because the essence songs were quieter. It could just be that the Strongs of today were more immune to the euphoric effects of song. They can now appreciate the song, without becoming immersed in it.

On several trips, I would come upon battles between human and beast. The beasts usually won. It was not a pleasant scene, but I would sit and pay my respects to both beast and human. I would then try and find clothes for my ever growing frame. It was macabre, but necessary. I would leave anything personal, like jewelry or some engraved piece of equipment. Shirts, pants, shoes and underwear were all free to be recycled. My guardian ask my hesitance in the beginning. I tried to tell him the feeling of wearing a dead man’s clothes. For a bear that is naked with large amounts of hair, I could not come up with a similarity. But in the end, I could see his point. Soon, I wouldn’t even balk at the feeling of acquiring a new vest or underwear. Well, not may pieces of underwear. Humans have a nasty habit of voiding their bowels upon death. There were some though, where that was not entirely true.

So here I sit, overlooking the side of the mountain with my family home. I have not gone down this side of the mountain…it is too painful…or maybe I am just coward. I would have to face my family’s pain one day and for years, I didn’t want to. Today, however, as I look over the edge, I think I can face their pain. Maybe I can express my pain as well. And through that sharing, maybe we can face our pain and move on.

“Yes, I think it is time. You are not coming with me?” I still had hope he would come along. I didn’t feel as stable without him.

“No. There is nothing in this plane that can hurt you…at least physically…anymore. That role in your life doesn’t need to be filled. However, we will always be bonded and together. If you need me, just ask. I am connected to your inner world, so distance is not an issue. The years with you have created a debt I owe you…you do not see it now…maybe when you are older, and can see more clearly how guarding the young grows yourself.”

“Hmm. Ok then. I will start tomorrow. I gathered some clothes from the various explorers who have died at the base of the mountain…but I need to put it all together.” I had some fear that these were the King’s men out to hunt me down and bring me to justice. As I looked at their belongings, however, I could see these were just people.

The next day I slung the backpack my sister had given all those years ago, and began my decent down the mountain.