Through The Fractured Lens

Lucian

How many times.. how many damn times will this happen...

I saw the white light once again as it grew closer to me. Again, I will be reborn. Again, I will live. And again, I will die.

But for what purpose?

Please...

Can I let it be someone else's problem?

Just for a minute, so I can rest?

The white light began to envelop me again, but this time—I wasn't going to care. Nothing will matter in the end, and I will find a way to die another horrific death.

I won't get to retire, I won't get to experience any joy in life.

After all these lives, I've finally realized that I am no longer blessed with life.

I'm cursed with death.

And I can never escape.

***

I watched as lives began to unfold beneath my eyes.

From being born, to dying again.

And it was always on the same 2 continents. Whether I was sent to war, my family assassinated, or blown up from an invasion—I always died a gruesome death.

Every single time, I would always be named Lucian, as well. Pure and utter torture.

Nothing made sense to me anymore.

I've seen the white light dozens of times now.

How many more will I live?

At first, I thought it couldn't have been anything more than a bad dream. That my brain was still trying to process my death, and eventually, I'd finally... cease to exist. However, that time never came.

Every night I went to sleep I wondered if I'd even wake up to see the next day.

Each life I lived was a ticking time bomb.

Yet, I couldn't see the countdown, I just had to wait for it to happen.

I once thought that there was something waiting for me at the end of this road. A purpose. A meaning. A reason.

But all I've found is pain.

Lives flashed before my life, from birth to death near instantly.

None of them proved any value to ever remember.

The time of which I was born proved no pattern. Sometimes I was born before the war even started, during the war, or even back during the first wars forever ago.

Some lives I would never unlock spirit manipulation—forced to work my life day by day. While they were peaceful, they always ended in death. It seemed no matter where I go, I met my end. No matter how far I run, its always one step ahead of me.

I never truly lived any of the lives. I only simply survived, existed.

My existence fell into an endless cycle. Every birthday was no longer a celebration, but a reminder that I was a year closer to death.

While reincarnation wasn't joyful, I found a sense of... joy, from it, everything about it.

Because, despite however many times I would be born,

I always hoped that one of these lives, I would close my eyes for the last time, and never open them again.

Hundreds of lives now, blinked before my eyes. Each passing void as I drifted into the light was filled with shards of memories I didn't even know I had.

I retained nothing—learned nothing.

The endless nightmare of everything, forced to eat, sleep, breathe. For no purpose.

***

I watched as the endless light enveloped me once more. I had been through hundreds—no, thousands of lives.

This was all nothing but a routine to me.

My life wouldn't feel like my own. I'd observe it from a different perspective, watching it unfold till its eventual demise, and the cycle would repeat itself.

However, this life was different.

From before I could even acknowledge my surroundings, my parents...

It was different.

My first months went by in the matter of seconds. I had been born in a small town in the mountains that I've never seen before. People acted strange here.

Not strange, but just... unique.

Finally, I realized from one of the conversations that my parents were having. They were talking about the Elyndor and Serathis war, which was common amongst adults. Usually they'd rant about it, the endless conflict, or shame the opposing side and its government.

Typical. However, they weren't saying anything like that. They were talking like it wasn't any of their concern, like it was just some reality TV show.

As they spoke, their words shocked me to the core. A rare surprise in my time.

I had been born on Vorrakhan.

In the thousands of lives I've been through, I had only been born in Serathis or Elyndor. Originally I thought it was just by chance, but then it became all too perfect. Maybe there just wasn't anybody on these two other continents, Vorrakhan and Grimholt, or maybe there was something that I was missing—an actual lesson in this endless suffering.

However, all the rumors that floated around became null.

These people looked like regular humans. There was nothing different in their appearances, or anything.

I also noticed something about my own appearance, however. I had red, scarlet eyes. The same exact eyes I had in my first cycle, or life.

That was the only cycle I would ever consider a life, because at least I had a few good years at the start. However, I could barely remember anything from them now.

Now that there was something different about this life, I tried to pay attention to everything.

Despite the change, I knew I would die anyway.

However, maybe there was something to take from all of this. Some way where I could finally rest, after all of this.

***

My first few years faded away in moments, like they usually do.

Learning how to crawl—then walk, then speak.

I unlocked spirit manipulation just yesterday, at the ripe age of 6. A new record for me, however, not too surprising, as both of my parents were spirit users.

Our town didn't have a name. A lot of people passed by, transporting mysterious cargo that I could never quite figure out.

We were more centralized in the continent, so it made sense that we would have a lot of travelers. Often times they'd stop by and rest at our town, which was quite normal.

However, there was still so little I knew about the continent.

It was run by a council. No royal family, no presidents, nothing. A council that opts to keep all of its members hidden.

Yet, they made all the decisions, and ran the entire continent, of course.

There was no capital, however there were large cities.

***

Finally, at the age of 7, what seemed like my death finally had arrived to carry me away.

Houses erupted into flames as bandits raided the village. They cut down many, while also looting markets and other areas.

Many attempted to fight them, but we were a small town with little fighters.

There was no use.

My mother was cut down in front of my eyes.

Watching as it happened, my father boiled with tears. He looked over at me, screaming. I couldn't make out a lot of it in the noise, but I heard enough.

"Run, Lucian, Run!"

Running. I've heard that many times before, and it never worked out.

However, I was determined to learn more about this place.

I began taking a few steps back, as I watched my father use all his strength against the bandits. He hadn't had time to get his weapon, so he went in with his fists.

A dumb move, as a spear impaled him from the back, as the little life he had left was drained from his own body.

Turning around, I began to sprint before I ran into a figure, knocking down and hitting the ground with a loud thud. My vision became blurry, unable to make out the figures surrounding me. Their weapons were drawn, and I was prepared to meet my fate.

Instead of killing me, however, they rushed a blindfold over me. They hauled me away, before knocking me out with some sort of gas.

In all of my lives, I've never had this happen to me before. They were clearly bandits, yes, but it appears they were slave traders, as I had noticed many other kids besides me as my eyelids began shutting.

As I fell asleep, I wondered.

How different would this life be? And more importantly...

Would I die here?