Through The Fractured Lens

Lucian

To be honest, there was a time where I would have a real smile on my face.

Where—despite the worst, I somehow was always able to look past it. Better days would come, I had hoped.

But they never did.

Nothing came.

Time seemed to slip from my fingers like sand on a beach.

I was no longer in control of my own life. I felt trapped inside of my own body, forced to live through each and every agonizing day.

Once a year, people would celebrate me. But I could never celebrate myself.

I learned how to walk—but for what purpose? So I could walk to my death instead of crawl?

Despite everything I would do, it all would come crashing down eventually. There was no journey, there was no destination. There was only now, and now was painful enough.

Ah. 13 years old now, so exciting.

I had been born in the city of Eldoria this time—to a very rich family.

However, not even riches could buy a smile.

They always said money could never buy happiness, and man did I think they were wrong. For the longest time, I'd think you were crazy if you said you couldn't make yourself happy with riches. You could have anything in the world, and you can't even smile?

But they were right.

Riches could get you anything you want. But it only amounted to physical objects.

No amount of money could ever patch the feeling of how dull life felt.

Any glimmer of genuine hope and excitement I had for something was gone. The little in this new world that intrigued me—came and went.

However, one thing stood out.

In this lifetime, this war had only just begun. In my last life, the war had been going on for many decades. It didn't make sense.

Then I realized, I wouldn't have even been born yet right now.

I had been born back in time, decades back.

By time I was 16, I was forced with personal trainers. I trained relentlessly every day, only to do what? Fight a losing battle? My dried blood mopped off the floor?

I trained. I excelled, I passed all the expectations set for me.

Even through all of this, I never truly felt like I did anything. My life was on autopilot, as I drifted around—trapped in my own mind, watching my life unfold through my very own eyes.

Suddenly, I was 18.

Talented spirit user. Smart, and good looking.

I wore a similar look to my last life, blonde hair, except I had let it grow out. I was marked with brown, empty eyes.

Girls flocked to me. My looks, my money, my talent—I had it all.

But I didn't. I had nothing.

***

Now, I was 25. I just got married, which was arranged of course. My wife was beautiful, caring… smart, loyal. Everything.

Our family was political figures—capable of making decisions that would alter the war.

I had knew it was coming some day.

While I may not have predicted today, it always finds its way to you eventually. I could've ran, could've hid. But why would it have mattered in the end?

Death was here.

Our guards were slaughtered, blood still fresh as it soaked into the carpet.

My wife shouted at me. "Lucian! Run!"

I didn't. I simply watched as the assassin took down the remaining guards and pierced his sword through my wife's chest.

Then the assassin moved over to me. Daggers whistled through the air as they dug into my skin. I didn't even have a reaction. There was only one thing on my mind.

Would this finally be my last?

Everything faded to black—for the third time now. I fell into the endless void of black, as shattered glass ran around me and followed me on my descent to the rapidly appearing white light.

The light at the end of the tunnel.

I watched as the glass played memories of this life, memories that I simply didn't hold dear. Nothing from this life warranted any response from me, I didn't care about it all.

Nothing made sense, but I couldn't bother trying to make any sense out of it anyway.

The white light fully enveloped me once again, until it was all black. Muttered voices flocked to my ears, with faint mumbling hissing from the back.

"Ah, what a beautiful boy."

"Yes of course, he'll make a great soldier."

"—training ASAP."

These weren't the typical formalities that one would have a birth.

A faint line of curiosity rose, interested in what they had planned for me in this life. Could I have been born on another continent this time? Had there been a major gap in time between lives?

***

My early years were nothing but a blur.

I had been born on Serathis, a continent which was my enemy for 2 lifetimes now.

However, despite all the propaganda and information thrown out to the public—it was quite the beautiful place. While the people acted entirely different, the architecture and economy was about the same as Elyndor.

If I didn't know any better, I would have mistook this for Elyndor with it's striking similarities.

However, I was born into a military family.

This only means one thing.

The moment I had turned 8 years old, I was forced into training. While I wasn't handed a personal trainer and weapons a silver platter, I was forced to attend school for new recruits.

Serathis pumps out soldiers as early as 13—some not even having a choice in the matter.

While Elyndor had a draft, which also forced people to go to war who may not have wanted to, Serathis drafted from birth. Military families would classify their newborns as soldiers and send them to military schools early on to prepare them.

This war had been going on for decades.

When will they learn?

Not for a while, not in my lifetime. Or lifetimes, I suppose.

Despite the unique things I learned about society here over at Serathis, most of my life was nothing but a blink. I was a little more in tune with this life, however still felt no need to do… anything.

Anything and everything felt utterly useless.

Every life I've lived proved to be nothing in the grand scheme of time. Nothing I did will be written about in the history books, like I had hoped for a kid.

As an actual kid. 

This is my fourth life, which in total, I've lived for 67 years. Some people live longer than that in their only life—yet for me, it had felt like hundreds of slow, aching years.

***

I felt a jolt of pain slap across the palm of my hand.

"Stand up straight boy!"

"Yes Commander, Sorry Commander!" I replied, trying to show as little expression as possible.

I had just turned 12, which means my 4 year training cycle has been over. The next cycle of recruits will move up to our level, and we will be sent out to war.

Memories of my past lives became nothing but a stain in my mind that I couldn't wipe away, no matter how hard I tried.

However my first life was still always clear, no matter what.

Almost everything I did brought me back to a different memory in time, whether it was from my 2nd or 3rd life, or even my 1st.

I had done nothing unique, nothing original. Nothing that sparked any joy inside of me.

An endless cycle of depression and sorrow.

When will it end?

As I was walking back to my dorm ready to pick up my things, my roommate ran to catch up with me, taking my pace.

"So, are you nervous for the big day tomorrow? We'll be official soldiers!"

"Yeah yeah," I replied.

We had talked for a few minutes longer, or I should say, he talked. He went on and on about how excited he was to make his family proud—how he would become a name they would call back upon in the history books, new children excited to learn about him and his contributions for decades to come.

Little did he know, none of that would happen. If he died tomorrow, the only people that would ever remember him is his only family.

And as they die out, he'll soon be forgotten.

Just a spec of sand in the endless beaches covering history.

***

Tomorrow had arrived sooner than hoped, and we were already at the base. This was a temporary setup, pushed more into occupied Elyndor coastline.

We were already preparing to be rushed into battle.

And soon, I'd face my death.

Every moment felt like filler—a useless chapter in the long story of my lives.

And then finally, only a few hours later… it was time for battle. We all had grabbed our weapons, as I had opted for a spear this time—a more of a jab style of fighting.

We were rushed through the crisped lands of Elyndor, as we passed by village wreckages and prisoners being hauled back to Serathis.

At the moment, the war was a standstill. 

On each side, villages and cities were nothing but rubble, bodies plastered across the walls as soldiers ran through them. 

Tens of thousands already lost their lives—and there was no end in sight.

Generational hatred.

As we ran through, I noticed one of the villages as we passed—it was Briarhill, the village where I had died in my second lifetime.

I ran ahead, gaining some distance from the crowd, stumbling onto the main avenue alone. I walked through the crisp bodies—there had been a battle here some time ago.

This had made me think about everything. I never exactly knew anything about the years, calendars or anything time related in my 2nd life. The only thing I had done was train, and fight until my last breath.

However, this battle…

Unless another fight over these village grounds occurred, this was the battle where I had died 2 lifetimes ago.

And finally, I saw it for my own eyes.

A rotting body, that has been sitting around for no more than a year. It was decomposing, but not a skeleton by any means.

My own body. This was my body, and I had died here.. but in real time…

It couldn't have been more than a year ago.

…

2 lifetimes ago, for me.