Through The Fractured Lens

Lucian

I stand there, observing my rotting and lifeless body, barely able to make it out to be anything. However, it was mine.

Nobody could tell me otherwise that this was mine.

I didn't just know it—I felt it.

A girl from my classes came up to me.

"Hey, Lucian. You coming? We're already leaving—the area's clear. Nobody's been here since the Vanguard tore down the village."

"Ah yes, of course," I replied, not remembering her name.

As we walked, I began to think about these lives that I've lived, and how they function. In my second life, or first life in this world—the war had been going on for decades, a conflict that seemed it would never reach an end.

However, in my third life, the war had barely just begun, only being active for around a year, maybe two at that.

But now, it had clearly been less than a year since this battle that killed me.. but it felt like decades. What was happening here?

Whatever it was, one thing was clear. Time was a factor I couldn't predict.

It never was predictable.

We finally made it back to the group we were traveling with, who had acknowledged us before continuing on.

How will I die in this life?

And will that... finally be the end?

When will I get to rest? When can I fade into pure nothingness, ceasing to exist? My turn has to come.

As I got snapped back to reality, members of our group were sinking to the ground, arrows and spells burning through them.

"Ambush! Retreat for the base!" The leaders voice rang through the crowd, however he was shortly cut down by an Elyndorian soldier. 

His body tumbled to the ground, leaving soldiers scrambling around.

They had no orders. No idea what to do.

'They all be dead within the hour,' I told myself, getting slightly annoyed with all the commotion. I couldn't speak on it though, as I probably will be as well.

Volley of spirit arrows rained down from above, colliding with many.

Those smart enough were able to shield themselves in time, dodging the brunt of the attack. However, ground soldiers were on the move heading straight for us, and we would all die, one by one.

As the leader of our group said before dying—retreat. It was the smartest move, and people had to swallow their pride sometimes.

***

We began running back, or at least what was left of us anyway. More than half of our group had been killed just in the initial surprise attack, which left us defenseless.

Despite this, I had a hard time thinking about fighting the Elyndor forces.

After all, I had spent two lifetimes under their continent and leadership—it grew on me. In the end though, I couldn't really care.

I met up with my dormmate who survived the attack, surprisingly. He wasn't exactly the brightest in the bunch, but it was nice to see that he could actually take care of himself in dire situations. While we were walking, I noticed his expression. He wanted to say something, but he wasn't.

"Spit it out. You may die in a few minutes anyway."

"Well," he began, scratching the back of his head. "I don't think I want to be in the history books anymore—dying doesn't sound all that fun."

"Give up. You never were gonna make it there anyway," I replied.

"Thanks for the encouragement."

"Anytime! And here I thought you lacked common sense, but it seems you know your limit well enough," I exclaimed.

"Is that a compliment? You know, I can't really tell," he asked.

"Yes."

Obviously not expecting an answer, his face flushed of embarrassment. I'm not sure why he would embarrassed at the truth.

The peace didn't last long though—soldiers from Elyndor swooped in from the sides to ambush us once more. This time, there were dozens, and they weren't here to just take a few down with them, they were going to kill us all.

Despite my past, I cut down many soldiers in my path. Even with the history I had with the continent, they struck me with killing intent. In return, I painted the floor with their blood.

Fighting continue to enrage, however we were clearly losing.

As I struck down another soldier, I looked over to my dormmate. He was actively engaged in battle, however I saw someone sneaking up on him.

I never knew his name, so I couldn't directly call to him. "Behind you!"

Shouting still proved to no effect.

Watching as an imbued sword pierced through his shield and into his chest, coming out the other end, I saw the life being pulled from his eyes as he met his fate.

He was only 12 years old. Yet, he died on the frontlines for his country.

And he soon will be forgotten, nobody remembering his existence in the matter of months.

Like many, he was from a military family in Serathis. The entire goal of these families is to push out as many powerful soldiers into the battle as possible.

They never truly had families, they just had a mission—an expectation.

And they failed.

As I was staring at his lifeless body, I was struck from behind. I quickly reinforced myself, absorbing most of the attack as the sword swung over and grazed my ear.

I turned around and noticed who it was. It was Claire... why was she wielding a sword?

No matter, I found someone I recognized.

But, recognizing someone wouldn't mean anything. I could never remember what my appearance was like, but I was an entirely different person.

I may be the same deep down, but to her—I'm an enemy she must kill.

Out of pure instinct, I screamed out.

"Claire! Wait it's me, Lu—"

I was cut off, as she buried her sword deep into my chest. Despite this, I was able to react in time to avoid the killing blow, but I was still severely wounded.

Even if I made it out of this fight, I would likely die of injuries.

It was all over, no matter what.

However, I wasn't going to let that stop me. I couldn't let death take me that easily, could I?

I ran. I ran as fast as I could, bolting back to the ruins of Briarhill, where I would attempt to seek refuge amongst the ruins.

Claire and a few other soldiers gave chase, but as the distance between us grew larger, I felt like I was in the clear, I had evaded death's grip on my soul for one more day.

***

Kicking over dead bodies, I stumble my way through Briarhill.

What was left of it, anyway.

I watched as I passed bodies from those who I recognize. While I never really interacted with much people, I remembered their faces from basic training.

On top of all that, I also found the body of General Iron Hand.

His body was barely recognizable, the only distinct feature remaining being his outfit. He always wore a tight uniform with the pant legs cuffed, making him stand out from the crowd.

As I was walking, I thought back to the warehouse where I had brutally dismembered dozens of gang members—Silas and his crew.

It was so easy to kill, so easy to brush the blood off my blade.

Yet, in the end, what good did it do?

Many families that day never got to see their mother or father return home that night from work. I had taken that 'special person' from many people.

Just to fill the empty void inside of me, what I thought was revenge.

However, it never was, was it?

Revenge was supposed to bring closure, a tether—something that I could reflect on, and appreciate.

But the blood I spilled never dried, not really.

It clung to me, soaked into my skin, into my thoughts...

I had felt this after every kill, but it only made me thirst for more blood. 

They had been monsters, hadn't they? I had convinced myself of that. But did that make me any different?

Suddenly, I was pulled back to warehouse that night. I saw as police covered bodies, while emergency services went around, checking for any signs of life.

Through all the madness, I noticed one family.

They were all kneeled down beside a dead man who had been partially covered by tarp, pulled down enough just to see his face and upper body.

It was a woman who looked about the same as a man, her arms wrapped around a little girl who was crying endlessly.

The tears poured down, shedding new light on the dried blood that coated the tile floor.

Finally, the girl looked over—staring deep into my soul.

She got up, walking over to me.

As she approached, she stumbled. Nearly tripping over herself more times than I count, finally she came up just in front of me before she stopped.

She was looking down, as I watched the tears drip to the floor.

After a long moment of silence, she looked up at me.

"Why? Why did you kill my daddy? Why would you take him away from me—from us?"

Staring down at her, I was at a loss for words.

"I didn't—"

All of a sudden, I noticed a sword pierced through my chest, blood staining into my torn clothes and dripping down onto the floor. 

I snapped out of my trance, falling to the hard gravel floor.

Looking up, I noticed Claire, as her sword held ahead, blood—my blood, dripping from it's tip. "You didn't what?"

She began speaking. She must've heard what I had said. However, that wasn't intended for her. What answer could I possibly give?

Could I tell her I was Lucian? Would she believe me?

My question was quickly answered as I looked to my left. I was laying right next to my own body.

"Answer me. You didn't what? You didn't want to die? Well, unfortunately, that's too bad for you. You killed many of men, so now—I kill you."

She continued to speak, but her voice was muffled as my vision became blurry.

I was dying, and my comprehension became lacking.

However, just in the wake of death, I managed to make out a few words in her rant. "What do you feel now, after taking all those lives, that you would join them?"

Lacking enough energy for any sort of response, I gave the best, and most honest one I could.

"Relief."

As my vision began to fade to black, worry struck Claire's face. "Luc—?"

I never got to hear her finish that sentence.

Once again, my conscious fell into the endless void of black. Shattered glass flew around me, playing memories of all my previous lives.

From random interactions, to even me hiding in a dark corner to avoid having to talk to anyone—to the little girl crying to me about me killing her father.

Droplets of water seemed to erupt from my face.

They came in intervals as they drifted around in the void before fading to nothing.

I... was crying.