I was lying down, eyes closed, my mind drowned in pain and memories. Every scar, every wound marking my body seemed to blend with the turmoil of these past weeks. Why us? Why this misfortune? On the first day, we had encountered that chimera, that vile creature, and since then, everything had spiraled out of control. Battles followed one after another without end, each victory seeming to be nothing more than a breath before the next trial. Losing an arm was another blow to my life. But despite the pain, I had held on. I had learned to wield my heavy sword with one hand, supported by the strength of the group. Anger and determination had pushed me forward.
We were no longer just a group of survivors; we had become a family. Marie, the eldest, with her wise advice and motherly heart, brought us the necessary calm amidst the chaos. Romain, the leader, made the hard decisions, always ready to protect each of us. Jules, with his sharp instincts, watched over us in silence, always prepared to react. Janna, though discreet, was that protective older sister. Anthony, a bit on the outskirts, but of incredible strength in battle, was indispensable to us. And then there was Lucas, the youngest, our little brother. Barely 17 years old, he carried a rare innocence, a fragile light that, with every smile, erased a little of the darkness of this world.
But that night, everything collapsed. The tranquility of the night was shattered by a strange, distant sound, like the faint rustling of leaves under a furtive step. Anthony was on guard—I wasn't worried.
Yet suddenly, a scream tore through the night. "BEHIND!" The voice rang out, powerful and filled with terror. A cry of alarm. My heart leaped in my chest, and my whole body tensed. My mind froze for a few moments, trying to understand. And then, another sound. The sound of hurried footsteps. Then, I saw.
My gaze fell upon the body lying in the distance. The world stopped. It was Lucas. An arrow right in his eye, the other staring into an eternal silence. Horror seized me, a cold shiver running up my spine. It was unreal. I couldn't breathe. The shock paralyzed me. The ground beneath me seemed to collapse, and a veil of panic washed over me. I wanted to scream, to run to him, but everything was blurry, my muscles wouldn't respond. I just stared, as if trapped in a nightmare I couldn't escape.
Suddenly, a sharp blow to my side. Pain burst through my flesh, hot and searing. Blood was spreading, but it was a secondary pain. A woman, hidden in the shadows, dressed like Anthony, had attacked me, a dagger buried in my side. My breathing quickened, my body reacted before my mind could comprehend. I raised my arm to defend myself, the second dagger plunged into my hand, the pain almost making me scream. Yet it wasn't the physical pain that tore me apart. It was the pain in my heart, the pain of losing Lucas, the pain of watching death strike once again.
A dull scream, an instinct for survival. I pulled the dagger from my hand, my teeth biting into the cold metal, my fingers trembling. Then, in a surge of rage, I seized the woman's throat. She struggled, but I was consumed by a devastating fury, an insane rage fueled by pain and loss. Tears streamed down my cheeks, but they were not from physical suffering. It was my heart that was crying. Lucas's lifeless body haunted me, his empty gaze paralyzed me.
"If it had been him, he would have aimed for the neck first. And I wouldn't be here anymore, I wouldn't have had to endure this," I murmured, my voice broken. The words were an echo of my suffering. My hands tightened. The superhuman strength within me, amplified by adrenaline, snapped the woman's neck. Her body convulsed, but I couldn't bring myself to let go. I wanted her to suffer, to feel even a fraction of what I was going through.
Then, a figure appeared in my blurred vision. Jules. He stood there, his features marked by anger, his eyes filled with sorrow. Without a word, he stepped forward, his hand resting on my arm, a soft yet firm pressure. Slowly, I loosened my grip, letting the woman fall heavily to the ground, her neck twisted in a grotesque position. I stared at her lifeless body, and for a moment, everything around me seemed to fade away.
Jules wasted no time. His orders were clear, sharp. "Marie, heal him. Romain, protect them just in case." He turned to Janna, indicating the direction to take. "Let's go, we need to move fast." They ran off, vanishing into the darkness of the forest. The sound of their footsteps faded into the night, but the distant noises remained. Screams, menacing sounds. The sounds of war. The wind howled through the trees, and the crackling of the fire near the camp echoed in my ears, each burst of flame a brutal reminder of what had happened.
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I was there, lying on the cold ground, my eyes fixed on the starry sky. But was it really a sky? Were those really stars? Everything felt unreal, like a fractured painting, a broken dream from which I could not wake. I no longer even knew what planet I was on, nor if this world was still mine. Yet, I stared at that sky, lost in my thoughts, engulfed by the bitter flood of everything that had just happened.
I was covered in blood. Not mine. The blood of others. The blood of the man who had killed Lucas. The blood of the five others I had slain, without remorse, without a shiver, as if my heart had forgotten what fear was. But I felt neither pride nor horror. Just an unfathomable exhaustion, a sadness clinging to my soul like a persistent shadow.
My mouth was filled with a sickening metallic taste. The blood of the enemy mage, thick, sticky, like a curse etched onto my tongue. The scent of iron filled my nostrils, heavy and omnipresent. My premonition had not deceived me. Since I had arrived in this hell, I had known nothing but suffering.
And then, she was there.
That woman. That illusion. Or maybe not.
Her features were blurred, as if sculpted from smoke and wind, but her gaze was unbearably clear. She stared at me with a piercing intensity, an accusatory gleam in her ghostly eyes. Was it exhaustion making me see her? Or the madness into which I was sinking a little more each day?
Her voice rang out, sharp as a blade:
— Once again, it's your fault.
I did not answer. My eyes remained fixed on the stars, or what was left of them.
— You ignore me, but you know. If you hadn't let your guard down, Lucas would still be alive.
Her voice was relentless, insidious, seeping into the cracks of my already too fragile mind.
— Everything is your fault. Once again.
I remained silent, unable to defend myself, unable to argue. Because deep down, I knew she was right.
Tears fell silently, tracing silver trails on my skin under the moon's glow. They dropped, one by one, mixing with the blood that covered my hands.
And then, without really realizing it, my dagger slowly rose. The same one that had helped me, protected me so many times. Its blade gleamed faintly under the night light.
It rose.
Toward my throat.
I was tired.
Tired of all this.
But this time, it was not a spectral voice that spoke to me.
A real cry pierced the silence of the night.
— ANTHONY, NO!
It was Janna.
Janna, the woman who always kept her emotions in check, unfazed by danger, sometimes even cold. But at this moment, she was unrecognizable. Her eyes, usually hard as steel, were drowning in tears.
She was running toward me, her breath ragged, her features distorted by distress.
And before I could react, her arms wrapped around me with an almost crushing force. Her embrace was burning, desperate, as if she was holding onto me with everything she had to keep me in this world.
— Please, Anthony… don't do this…
Her voice broke into sobs. Her body trembled against mine, and her tears fell onto my skin, mixing with the blood staining my clothes.
Behind her, another presence.
Jules.
He stood still, shrouded in shadow, his gaze locked onto mine. He said nothing. But I could see the sorrow in his eyes, the weight of grief he carried in silence.
A sigh escaped my lips.
My hand trembled slightly, and the dagger slowly lowered.
I couldn't.
Not like this.
Not in front of them.
Not when they were already carrying so much pain.
I had to endure.
For them.
To lighten their burden, so they wouldn't have to carry this weight on top of their own.
I could no longer be selfish.
So, with one last trembling breath, in Janna's arms, I let my guard down.
We returned to camp, dragging our broken spirits through the carnage. The stench of dried blood filled my nostrils, acrid and nauseating, as my boots sank into the mud mixed with viscera. All around us, corpses littered the ground, twisted, frozen in expressions of horror or surprise. Some still had their eyes open, glassy, as if they were staring at me, as if they knew.
That I, too, was dead inside.
I walked without really walking, floating between two worlds, lost in a space without sound or color. My body moved forward, but my mind had stayed back there, in the middle of the massacre.
Then, I saw them.
Marie. Léonard. Romain.
They were kneeling around Lucas's lifeless body. Marie wept bitterly, her sobs tearing through the air, while Léonard stared at the ground, his fist clenched, trembling with restrained rage. Romain said nothing. Just another ghost in this endless night.
My gaze drifted.
A little farther away, her body.
The woman.
Her neck twisted at a grotesque angle, like a doll abandoned by a cruel child.
Ah… so she was there.
A twisted smile slipped onto my lips. I didn't know if it was sadness, disgust, or simply madness creeping further in.
I couldn't face the others.
Their gazes.
Their pain.
I couldn't face my guilt.
So, with my head lowered, my voice broken, I murmured:
— I'm really…
But before I could finish, a cry cut through the air.
— NO! It's not your fault!
Marie.
Her voice was filled with anger, with despair.
I slowly lifted my eyes toward her, but her gaze was burning, almost accusatory.
Why?
Why was she looking at me like that?
I opened my mouth, hesitating, my throat tight:
— But… what if…
Marie clenched her teeth. Her face hardened, and her eyes became as cold as stone.
I fell silent.
A doubt slithered into my mind.
Wasn't it… my fault?
YES.
YES, it was.
It was me.
I could have saved him.
I had the ability to.
I should have.
I hated myself.
A chasm opened beneath my feet, ready to swallow me whole. My mind was a battlefield where the voices of remorse and hatred clashed.
I wanted to disappear.
To stop thinking.
To stop feeling.
To stop suffering.
But I had no right.
The atmosphere in the camp was heavy, oppressive, suffocating. Léonard, armed with his heavy sword, was already digging a grave, his face frozen in a mask of silent pain.
I didn't even have the strength to help him.
I had no strength left.
I had nothing to dig with, nothing to ease their burden, but deep down… I knew it was just an excuse.
I didn't want to be here anymore.
I refused to be here.
Everything had to stop.
Now.
And then… I disappeared.
Physically.
But most of all, my mind sank.
Everything turned black.
There was nothing left.
Only hatred.
Hatred for myself.
Hatred against this world.
Hatred against everything that dared to still exist before me.