Chapter 813
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Chapter 813
Everyone knows what its like to feel sad.
Theres no arguing this. Thats just life. You have good days, bad days, and everything else in between, but were here to talk about the worst of the worst, the lowest of lows that everyone drops down to at one point or another. You wake up and everything feels off for one reason or another. Maybe your head hurts, or youre homesick, or you just lost someone close to you, but whatever the reason, you dont feel like leaving bed to face the world just yet. Much as youd like to call an audible and take the day off, most either cant or wont and just have to power through it. They get up, brush their teeth, maybe take a shower and make breakfast, then go about their day in spite of being down in the dumps. It sucks, but needs must. You gotta eat to live and you gotta work to eat, so you keep your head down and your nose to the grindstone until you no longer feel so down. Maybe your coffee perks you up, or someone cute smiles at you on the bus, or your friend texts you a funny meme of a dog saying something stupid. Could be your spouse, your kids, your parents, someone or something else which puts a spring in your step, or maybe you just figure it out yourself. Either way, it doesnt matter how you lift yourself out of your funk, but it happens nonetheless, and you feel good about having overcome a dark point in your life.
Which is great. Life is tough, and you should celebrate the little victories. Now, not to disparage how others feel and minimize their accomplishments, but while this is what most people think of when they hear depression, they couldnt be more wrong. Sadness and depression are not the same thing, and while everyone has experienced the former, most people dont know shit when it comes to depression.
Sure, part of it is being sad, which isnt that big a deal. Like I said, everyones been sad before, so just do something that makes you happy and youre good, right? Wrong. Depression isnt just sadness, but intense sadness, one that sucks up all the other emotions in your life. You wake up feeling like shit and you stay in bed despite knowing youll probably lose your job if you miss another day. Youre still tired even though you slept all night, and youll be tired all day too, except when it comes time for bed again, youll find yourself unable to fall asleep, which leaves you irritable and upset. So even though youve already committed to not leaving bed, every now and then, you find the strength to drag yourself out of bed and do something, anything to get yourself away from your thoughts. Maybe you hit up the mall, or fire up a game, or even meet up with friends and family, but despite being with the people you love and doing things you enjoy, youd much rather stop pretending youre having fun and just let yourself be depressed instead.
Thats depression, a heavy weight that clings to you and drags you down at all times, making it an effort to even get up and greet the day, because youre just dreading the moment when you walk out the door and you see someone you know, they ask you how you are and you say that youre fine when youre not really fine, but you just cant get into it because they would never understand. Youve heard it all before, all the well-meaning advice and ignorant suggestions, like, Do something you enjoy, or, Just power through it, or You have so much going for you, so you should be happy! Yea, no shit. I know I should be happy, but if being happy was an option, who in their right mind would choose depression? No one, which should be a sign that all is not well when someone does exactly that, except now you made them feel depressed and ungrateful. Way to go.
Depression is an affliction in every sense of the word, but those who dont know think they know and dont understand how difficult it can be, which makes it that much harder to shake off. They make being happy sound so easy, which makes you wonder why in the hell is it so difficult for you, furthering the downward spiral as you add another item to the long list of why youre fucked in the head. Its not the sadness that makes depression so difficult to break. Its the pervasiveness of the sadness, so all-encompassing that it takes the highest of highs and breaks its knees so it lines up with the lowest of lows. Doesnt matter what you do, because youre still down in the dumps, and keep this up long enough and the apathy kicks in. Youre sad and you feel sad, but you dont care, because whats the point in not feeling sad? Youll just be sad again, so why bother? For that same reason, why clean the house? Why cook a healthy meal? Why go to work, oftentimes the source of said sadness, or go out and see how happy other people are which will only make you feel even sadder in comparison. The depression takes over everything until you become numb to it, painting your life in shades of gloomy grey that all blend together into a dismal, dreary portrait which you cant bear to look at and dont bother trying to change because its a futile effort.
Thats my take on depression, which I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. Theres more to it that is personal to me and me alone, like survivors guilt, not just from my time in the mines or the numerous close calls since then, but also in being here in the world at all. Theres my persistent anxiety, which is just my brain going through all the worst-case scenarios and telling me how everything is doomed from the start, which isnt helpful, but not entirely wrong either. You also cant overlook my myriad of personal traumas either, both real and illusory of which there are many, all of which is merely scratching the surface of the topic, What makes Falling Rain so broken?.
A lot of shit, really. Theres no one glaring defect, but depression surely stands chief among them.
While being numb to the world might make happiness impossible, an unexpected benefit is that it insulates you from sadness, anger, hatred, and various other emotions too. Thats why the Spectres lies and Zhen Shis illusions were never as effective as they would be on someone else. Not just because Ive watched a lot of T.V and know how to immerse myself without getting brainwashed into believing everything I see, but also because I live my life in a pit of despair from which there is no escape, but also nowhere to fall further. This enabled me to take in Zhen Shis visions of darkness and despair with a clear mind, and more or less ignore the Spectres since their whispered lies were nowhere near as damaging as the hurtful truths I tell myself all the freaking time. Sure, there were times when I almost fell for those lies, but inoculation to depression doesnt make you immune to being miserable, just less susceptible to further misery. At some point, you hit rock bottom and any added hardships and anguish have diminishing returns on how much shittier they make you feel, and therefore more capable of enduring even more before you reach your breaking point.
And I have been infinitely close to breaking for as long as I can remember, but unwilling to wholly give in just yet. Its not that I want to live or am afraid of dying, but Ive just been ambivalent about survival most of the time. Why? Because life is hard and dying too easy, so might as well let fate decide.
So when Zhen Shi stood over my broken and battered body, gloating about victory and the suffering I would soon experience, I could only laugh at his naivet. The man knows his stuff when it comes to pain and subjugation, for he has spent multiple lifetimes mastering these arts, but he knows nothing of true misery. I could see it in his eyes as he loomed over me, his expression one of triumph yet marred by doubt and disappointment as he noted my defiance even in the face of death, because he didnt understand why I had yet to succumb to his torment. It unnerved him to see me endure without screaming, laying there without a care in the world as he slowly and methodically broke my bones one by one by one, because in his mind, the battle was already won. What was the source of my courage? How was it possible for me not to give in to despair? The questions were right there on the tip of his tongue, so curious as to how I could still hold onto hope, because greater men and women than I had long since given in to lesser torments.
What a sweet, summer child, to dare think pain was all it would take to break me. If that was the case, I wouldve died two weeks into my transmigration and re-rolled long before becoming the man I am today.
Thus, I feel duty-bound to share what Id learned in this life and the last, because misery loves company, after all. Ordinarily, I wouldnt wish my innermost fears and concerns on my greatest enemy, mostly because I believe an attack like that should be outlawed as a war crime, but if Zhen Shis gonna try and manipulate my thoughts and emotions, then I should at least let him see what hes up against so he knows what hes up against.
Now, I dont know how to weave illusions like he can, or whisper lies that sound like his own thoughts echoing inside his head, nor do I believe a measly Emotional Aura is enough to pierce through his defenses, so I have no choice but to rely on a skill I only vaguely understand how to use: Oration. Words to incite emotions, the premise is simple enough, but as far as I can tell, it only works when I truly feel and believe whatever emotions Im trying to convey. This means I cant merely reminisce about my lowest lows, but I must truly re-live and experience them in order to share what I feel with my audience of one. As an added twist, I dont want to give Zhen Shi time to react and stop my Oration short, so Im flying by the seat of my pants and doing what I can to condense everything Im trying to share all into one, simple sentence. Time comes to a standstill as I close my eyes and sink into the Void, where I find Buddy waiting to greet me with a tackle to the shins followed up by a vigorous tail-whipping as he wags uncontrollably about. Blobby is also around, floating aimlessly about, but I ignore him to take a seat so my sweet doggo can clamber into my lap. Hugging him tight here in the Void, my physical form cradles Mama Bun close, but even then, Im not sure I have enough floofs to keep this jaunt down memory lane from turning into a one-way trip.
Lin-Lin only just saved and forgave me for trying to get myself killed saving Shi Bei, so I can hardly turn around and overdose on depression. What a way to go thatd be, but its not a price Im willing to pay, not anymore, even if I it means bringing Zhen Shi down with me. I just have too much to live for now, not just Lin-Lin, but for my wives, my family, my friends, and my floofs as well.
Because even though I know theyll all be better off without me, itd be selfish to just give up now without at least giving it a go. Itll hurt when the inevitable finally comes around to bite me in the ass, but like they say, better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, right?
Probably bullshit too, but whatever.
Steeled and ready to begin my emotional assault on Zhen Shi, I kick-start this journey of emotional trauma by going back to the beginning. Or a beginning at least, one of many I still shudder when I think of. A boot slams into my protruding ribs and drives the air out of my lungs, but I push through the pain and hop to my feet in order to avoid a second kick. Get on yer feet, you worthless scum. A casual backhand catches me across the cheek and I taste blood in my mouth, but I go along with the impact and it doesnt drive me off my feet, which is a blessing to be sure. No better way to catch an early beating than to be caught sleeping in, which is what theyd accuse me of if I were to fall to the floor. Feedin time for yall, bettern you deserve.
The groans and sobs of other slaves sound out in unflattering imitation of my own, for none are spared this casual abuse so long as Gortan is here. Another Bristleboar might be less thorough and meticulous, but those who dont get the boot get a slap, and those who dodge the slap get a glare, which Ive now learned is an unspoken promise of compounded suffering later. Better to take the hit here and now than be singled out for more punishment later, or at least, thats what I tell myself. Even then, I knew it wasnt true, that no matter what I did, I would suffer for it, and as I lower my inner walls and willingly immerse myself in the memories for the first time ever, it all comes rushing back to me as if I never left. The shame, the fear, the dread, its all coming back to me now, and the only thing that keeps me from kicking and screaming in abject denial is the fact that I am merely a passenger in these memories of mine.
It's been more than ten years since I set foot inside this filthy slave pen, but there are still mornings when I wake up with a start, trying to dodge a phantom kick which will never come. That was the worst part of my time in the mines, not necessarily the torment itself, which was unpleasant to say the least, but the anticipation was so much worse. Every morning, I woke up to abuse and knew there would be more waiting in store, and I would base my every action and decision in hopes that my behaviour would somehow mollify my captors and reduce the severity of my inevitable punishment. Keep my head down and do as Im told, work hard, but blend into the background, pick up rocks to demonstrate my value, but no matter what I do, the abuse continues to be heaped on day after day after day.
Indifference. Inadequacy. Incompetence. Words which describe my plethora of insecurities, but fail to truly convey the depths of my misery, but the words are not important. Emotion is my weapon here, a lifetime of suffering which I would not wish upon my worst enemy, but there is still more buried deep within. Everything Ive touched upon is merely the result of the defining moment in my life, a life which was never mine to begin with. Thats where most of my issues stem from, the fact that I feel I do not belong here, that I was never supposed to open my eyes on that slave auction stage and go on to become the Number One Talent and Legate of the Outer Provinces.
An undeniable truth, but its so much worse than I ever thought.
The memory comes unbidden to me, and I struggle in an effort to reject it, but I cannot win against my own psyche. The truth unfolds before my eyes, a truth Ive buried deep, but one I can no longer deny in light of recent events. Here I stand beneath the pale, wan sun, peaking out just over the horizon to cast away the shadows and envelop the world is an unearthly glow. Dim though it might be, it still hurts my eyes after so many months immersed in darkness, a yearly occurrence for as long as I can remember. Usually, the stars alone shed light enough to navigate through these frozen, unforgiving wastes, but the days will grow brighter and brighter until it becomes too blinding to go out, before slowly giving way to the darkness once more.
I much prefer the darkness, especially right now, because if the world was cast in gloom and shadows, then I wouldnt be able to see the face of my opponent and be reminded of what we share, or what we must do now that the sun has risen.
Though he is younger, he stands a head and a half taller and almost twice as wide as my spindly frame. Hes always been bigger than me though, a marked advantage in this battle of life and death, because superior skill can only go so far before sheer muscle overwhelms you, and I lack both. Head shaved and chest bared, he scowls as our eyes meet and I see his hesitation, hesitation which is mirrored in mine because neither of us want this. There is no choice however, because the weak die and the strong survive, a truth we both accept here and now. This is our way of life, one which has been drilled into our minds and bodies since the day we could walk. There is no room for mercy or compassion in our hearts, no place for friendship or empathy, only the cold, harsh rules of reality which we both must adhere to.
He's always been the stronger one, this much was made clear right from the start. When pitted against the younglings our age, he always got the lions share of the prize, regardless if it be food, shelter, comfort, or anything else. Thats why hes grown so much taller and bigger, while I remained a bundle of bones and skin with barely any muscle at all, meaning our conflict was more or less decided from the start. I should just give up now, give in to the inevitable and concede defeat, but I cant bring myself to surrender just yet. Not because I dont want to die, nor is it because I hope to live, but because I know itll be harder for him to kill me if I dont fight back.
So I fight. I throw myself at my foe, and it catches him off-guard, but hes strong enough to throw me off with ease. Rolling across the jagged, frozen earth, I recover in time to slip aside from his follow-up kick, one which wouldve caved my head in if itd connected. Throwing myself at his supporting leg, I drive him back half-a-handspan at most without even affecting his balance, and I feel my feet lifting off the ground as he regains his footing and hurls me aside. Shouldve slammed me down instead, because now I have strength enough to roll and recover, landing lightly on both feet just in time to narrowly dodge his charge. Pushing him along in hopes of buying myself some time, I skip backwards and freeze in place as my foe stumbles and falls to one knee, at which point instinct takes over. I leap onto his back and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing with every scrap of strength I still possess. He bucks and heaves before pushing himself to his feet, but I cling gamely on with my feet braced against his hips. Unable to pull me loose, my opponent predictably tries to fall backwards and slam me against the ground, but I was expecting as much and release my grip to push off his back and avoid being pinned between him and the earth. As his body crashes down, mine hangs in the air for a moment, just long enough for our eyes to meet before I begin my descent anew. Time stops as we bid each other farewell, and it pains me to see no hatred, fear, or even reluctance in his expression, only grudging acceptance and sweet relief.
He's glad. Glad that he doesnt have to kill me, and knowing this hurts more than any injury ever could.
Time resumes, and he crashes into the ground mere moments before my elbows slam home into the fragile bones of his neck. Death is instant, and as I take in my victory, there is no joy in my heart, no pleasure to be had, only a sense of incredulous disbelief at having survived this final trial, followed by a wave of horror and guilt at what Ive done. This life was not meant to be mine, because Ive never won against him before in my life, and I would have died a hundred times if not for the fact that our previous fights were only training matches. This was our first real life and death battle, one which no one expected me to survive, but survive I did because my opponent stumbled over a jagged rock and couldnt recover in time.
Breaking the rock which helped secure my victory, I use it to carve up my prize to bring home as proof, a routine Ive seen him do a thousand times before. To the victor goes the spoils, and I know I should partake in the strength of my fallen foe. I cannot remember the last time I dined on warm flesh, or even when my belly was full, and I do not have the strength to keep this whole prize to myself, but I am in no mood to eat. A foolish and stubborn denial, because I know he would have dined upon my flesh if our roles were reversed, but unlike him, I am unworthy.
I am the victor, but only because of dumb luck. I should be dead, he standing here in my place, but the heavens are cruel and merciless.
As expected, most of my prize is stolen before I make my way back home, because with my victory, I am no longer a child protected by custom, but an adult of the village free to grow my hair and beard both. There is no pride in the achievement, for it means I must labour even harder to earn my fair share or be banished, and I suspect I will be dead before the darkness comes again in a few weeks time. Carrying the single trophy left to me as proof of my undeserving victory, I return to my fathers lair and make my way inside, even though I know I should not be here, and should instead be fighting for a place to carve out my own lair before the other new adults return. Theres something I must do first though, something I need to prove to myself, which is why I came here instead. Cradling my little brothers head in my arms, I take a seat before my mother who has yet to notice my arrival, lost in her thoughts and dreaming of a different life as she almost always is. I have returned, I declare, and only then does she stop staring off into nothingness to register my presence, before giving my prize a questioning gaze. I can see the question in her eyes, because no one expected my little brother to die, especially not against me, the weakest of the weak. He stumbled and fell, so I killed him and won.
Her brow furrows in surprise and confusion, unable to make sense of what I said. Her amber eyes take in my face, then the face of my twin brother who is dead and gone, only to come back to mine without any hint of grief, pleasure, or any other emotion besides mild curiosity. You killed the warrior, she declares, stating the obvious with a tilt of her head. Which one are you again? Not the slayer. Not the glutton. Not the dagger or the wretched, the spear or the blooded. I know not your face, only that you are not my little light.
In her mind, our names were merely labels, but it was all shed given us, all we had, and she doesnt even remember all of our faces. Mine least of all, despite being the one who needed her the most, the weakest runt of the litter who was destined for death. Or maybe thats why she didnt bother remembering me in the first place, because she assumed my death was inevitable, but I survived in spite of the odds, at the cost of my brothers life. My little brother Baledagh, the Warrior, the strongest one of all, and the only reason I survived to reach the age of twelve and undergo the ceremony of adulthood. He fought and won the lions share every single time, but he always saved enough for me, because he knew Id die without it. Thats why our father pitted us against each another, because such weakness could not be tolerated, but my little brother protected me to the end.
I am Amigui, I reply, amused by how apt my name is. The lifeless. Stillborn yet unable to die, an ill-omen if there ever was one. Thats all there is to say, as my mothers expression turns to one of disgust and revulsion before turning away so she no longer has to look at me, because I am as dead to her now as the day I came out the womb, only minutes ahead of my little brother. Nothing will ever change this, a truth I must now accept, for she only has room for her little light in her heart, her Gerel who she left behind. Leaving with my brothers head still cradled in my arms, I bring him out to the edge of camp where we can watch the rising sun together, because unlike me, he always loved the light. The others return and are surprised to see me, but I pay them no mind, nor do I care to answer my father when he comes to ask me why Ive yet to secure my own dwelling. The sun slowly rises as the days pass by, and I continue to keep my brother company, because I never expected to make it this far and have no idea what Im supposed to do now, nor do I care to even try. I eat when I must, because I cannot squander this life that has been gifted to me, and soon enough, all that is left of my brother is a skull and nothing else.
At which point my father arrives to tell me Ive been banished from the village for my failure to contribute. I take the news in stride and leave my brothers skull behind, because unlike me, he deserves a place among his people. I say nothing as father carries me away to a far-off land steeped in colours Ive never seen. I presume its so I cant make my way back to the village, but then he hands me over to a person I dont recognize who throws me into a cage. Not that it matters, because this changes nothing, and I simply close my eyes and wish that I had died in birth rather than be born to a world that didnt want me.
And when I open my eyes again, Amigui is gone, with Rayne standing in his place, and the rest is history. The torrent of once-suppressed memories surges through me in a maelstrom of grief, guilt, shame and more as I struggle to come to grips with a past I tried so hard to forget and was not even remotely ready for. The denial, regret, and self-loathing, all of it is almost too much to bear, too real and too obvious to ignore any longer as the root causes of my many insecurities are made all too evident. I was rejected by my mother, neglected and abandoned by my father, yet I repaid the only person who ever cared for me with betrayal most foul. Everything I have, everything Ive accomplished, all of it is fruit of the poisoned tree, and I truly do not deserve this life of mine.
This is my truth, one I can no longer deny no matter how much I wish it were otherwise. Whether I am Amigui, Falling Rain, or Rayne, I am, at my core, unworthy. This I know for certain, though I am still unsure as to how or why I awakened to memories of a past life, but this is me. I am Amigui and Rayne both, of this world and the last, and Falling Rain still merely an amalgamation of the two. Those actions were mine, and the karma sown within two lives must eventually be reaped. The consequences are mine to bear, and I must accept this, for there is no other choice, but I put all this aside to focus on finishing what I started. I dont know what to make of it all, but I cant keep hiding from the past, no matter how dark and dismal it might be. Much as I wish I could change the past, every step taken along my Path is a necessary one, especially the ones I regret most, because without the mistakes and suffering of my past, I would not be the man I am today.
A giant mess of a man with more baggage than a commercial airport, all of which I will now embrace and dump onto Zhen Shi, because fuck him in particular. All thats left to do is pick out the right words to express my emotions through Oration, an answer which comes unbidden as the maudlin melody leaves my sombre, smiling lips.
Hello darkness my old friend
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Chapter 813
Everyone knows what its like to feel sad.
Theres no arguing this. Thats just life. You have good days, bad days, and everything else in between, but were here to talk about the worst of the worst, the lowest of lows that everyone drops down to at one point or another. You wake up and everything feels off for one reason or another. Maybe your head hurts, or youre homesick, or you just lost someone close to you, but whatever the reason, you dont feel like leaving bed to face the world just yet. Much as youd like to call an audible and take the day off, most either cant or wont and just have to power through it. They get up, brush their teeth, maybe take a shower and make breakfast, then go about their day in spite of being down in the dumps. It sucks, but needs must. You gotta eat to live and you gotta work to eat, so you keep your head down and your nose to the grindstone until you no longer feel so down. Maybe your coffee perks you up, or someone cute smiles at you on the bus, or your friend texts you a funny meme of a dog saying something stupid. Could be your spouse, your kids, your parents, someone or something else which puts a spring in your step, or maybe you just figure it out yourself. Either way, it doesnt matter how you lift yourself out of your funk, but it happens nonetheless, and you feel good about having overcome a dark point in your life.
Which is great. Life is tough, and you should celebrate the little victories. Now, not to disparage how others feel and minimize their accomplishments, but while this is what most people think of when they hear depression, they couldnt be more wrong. Sadness and depression are not the same thing, and while everyone has experienced the former, most people dont know shit when it comes to depression.
Sure, part of it is being sad, which isnt that big a deal. Like I said, everyones been sad before, so just do something that makes you happy and youre good, right? Wrong. Depression isnt just sadness, but intense sadness, one that sucks up all the other emotions in your life. You wake up feeling like shit and you stay in bed despite knowing youll probably lose your job if you miss another day. Youre still tired even though you slept all night, and youll be tired all day too, except when it comes time for bed again, youll find yourself unable to fall asleep, which leaves you irritable and upset. So even though youve already committed to not leaving bed, every now and then, you find the strength to drag yourself out of bed and do something, anything to get yourself away from your thoughts. Maybe you hit up the mall, or fire up a game, or even meet up with friends and family, but despite being with the people you love and doing things you enjoy, youd much rather stop pretending youre having fun and just let yourself be depressed instead.
Thats depression, a heavy weight that clings to you and drags you down at all times, making it an effort to even get up and greet the day, because youre just dreading the moment when you walk out the door and you see someone you know, they ask you how you are and you say that youre fine when youre not really fine, but you just cant get into it because they would never understand. Youve heard it all before, all the well-meaning advice and ignorant suggestions, like, Do something you enjoy, or, Just power through it, or You have so much going for you, so you should be happy! Yea, no shit. I know I should be happy, but if being happy was an option, who in their right mind would choose depression? No one, which should be a sign that all is not well when someone does exactly that, except now you made them feel depressed and ungrateful. Way to go.
Depression is an affliction in every sense of the word, but those who dont know think they know and dont understand how difficult it can be, which makes it that much harder to shake off. They make being happy sound so easy, which makes you wonder why in the hell is it so difficult for you, furthering the downward spiral as you add another item to the long list of why youre fucked in the head. Its not the sadness that makes depression so difficult to break. Its the pervasiveness of the sadness, so all-encompassing that it takes the highest of highs and breaks its knees so it lines up with the lowest of lows. Doesnt matter what you do, because youre still down in the dumps, and keep this up long enough and the apathy kicks in. Youre sad and you feel sad, but you dont care, because whats the point in not feeling sad? Youll just be sad again, so why bother? For that same reason, why clean the house? Why cook a healthy meal? Why go to work, oftentimes the source of said sadness, or go out and see how happy other people are which will only make you feel even sadder in comparison. The depression takes over everything until you become numb to it, painting your life in shades of gloomy grey that all blend together into a dismal, dreary portrait which you cant bear to look at and dont bother trying to change because its a futile effort.
Thats my take on depression, which I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. Theres more to it that is personal to me and me alone, like survivors guilt, not just from my time in the mines or the numerous close calls since then, but also in being here in the world at all. Theres my persistent anxiety, which is just my brain going through all the worst-case scenarios and telling me how everything is doomed from the start, which isnt helpful, but not entirely wrong either. You also cant overlook my myriad of personal traumas either, both real and illusory of which there are many, all of which is merely scratching the surface of the topic, What makes Falling Rain so broken?.
A lot of shit, really. Theres no one glaring defect, but depression surely stands chief among them.
While being numb to the world might make happiness impossible, an unexpected benefit is that it insulates you from sadness, anger, hatred, and various other emotions too. Thats why the Spectres lies and Zhen Shis illusions were never as effective as they would be on someone else. Not just because Ive watched a lot of T.V and know how to immerse myself without getting brainwashed into believing everything I see, but also because I live my life in a pit of despair from which there is no escape, but also nowhere to fall further. This enabled me to take in Zhen Shis visions of darkness and despair with a clear mind, and more or less ignore the Spectres since their whispered lies were nowhere near as damaging as the hurtful truths I tell myself all the freaking time. Sure, there were times when I almost fell for those lies, but inoculation to depression doesnt make you immune to being miserable, just less susceptible to further misery. At some point, you hit rock bottom and any added hardships and anguish have diminishing returns on how much shittier they make you feel, and therefore more capable of enduring even more before you reach your breaking point.
And I have been infinitely close to breaking for as long as I can remember, but unwilling to wholly give in just yet. Its not that I want to live or am afraid of dying, but Ive just been ambivalent about survival most of the time. Why? Because life is hard and dying too easy, so might as well let fate decide.
So when Zhen Shi stood over my broken and battered body, gloating about victory and the suffering I would soon experience, I could only laugh at his naivet. The man knows his stuff when it comes to pain and subjugation, for he has spent multiple lifetimes mastering these arts, but he knows nothing of true misery. I could see it in his eyes as he loomed over me, his expression one of triumph yet marred by doubt and disappointment as he noted my defiance even in the face of death, because he didnt understand why I had yet to succumb to his torment. It unnerved him to see me endure without screaming, laying there without a care in the world as he slowly and methodically broke my bones one by one by one, because in his mind, the battle was already won. What was the source of my courage? How was it possible for me not to give in to despair? The questions were right there on the tip of his tongue, so curious as to how I could still hold onto hope, because greater men and women than I had long since given in to lesser torments.
What a sweet, summer child, to dare think pain was all it would take to break me. If that was the case, I wouldve died two weeks into my transmigration and re-rolled long before becoming the man I am today.
Thus, I feel duty-bound to share what Id learned in this life and the last, because misery loves company, after all. Ordinarily, I wouldnt wish my innermost fears and concerns on my greatest enemy, mostly because I believe an attack like that should be outlawed as a war crime, but if Zhen Shis gonna try and manipulate my thoughts and emotions, then I should at least let him see what hes up against so he knows what hes up against.
Now, I dont know how to weave illusions like he can, or whisper lies that sound like his own thoughts echoing inside his head, nor do I believe a measly Emotional Aura is enough to pierce through his defenses, so I have no choice but to rely on a skill I only vaguely understand how to use: Oration. Words to incite emotions, the premise is simple enough, but as far as I can tell, it only works when I truly feel and believe whatever emotions Im trying to convey. This means I cant merely reminisce about my lowest lows, but I must truly re-live and experience them in order to share what I feel with my audience of one. As an added twist, I dont want to give Zhen Shi time to react and stop my Oration short, so Im flying by the seat of my pants and doing what I can to condense everything Im trying to share all into one, simple sentence. Time comes to a standstill as I close my eyes and sink into the Void, where I find Buddy waiting to greet me with a tackle to the shins followed up by a vigorous tail-whipping as he wags uncontrollably about. Blobby is also around, floating aimlessly about, but I ignore him to take a seat so my sweet doggo can clamber into my lap. Hugging him tight here in the Void, my physical form cradles Mama Bun close, but even then, Im not sure I have enough floofs to keep this jaunt down memory lane from turning into a one-way trip.
Lin-Lin only just saved and forgave me for trying to get myself killed saving Shi Bei, so I can hardly turn around and overdose on depression. What a way to go thatd be, but its not a price Im willing to pay, not anymore, even if I it means bringing Zhen Shi down with me. I just have too much to live for now, not just Lin-Lin, but for my wives, my family, my friends, and my floofs as well.
Because even though I know theyll all be better off without me, itd be selfish to just give up now without at least giving it a go. Itll hurt when the inevitable finally comes around to bite me in the ass, but like they say, better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, right?
Probably bullshit too, but whatever.
Steeled and ready to begin my emotional assault on Zhen Shi, I kick-start this journey of emotional trauma by going back to the beginning. Or a beginning at least, one of many I still shudder when I think of. A boot slams into my protruding ribs and drives the air out of my lungs, but I push through the pain and hop to my feet in order to avoid a second kick. Get on yer feet, you worthless scum. A casual backhand catches me across the cheek and I taste blood in my mouth, but I go along with the impact and it doesnt drive me off my feet, which is a blessing to be sure. No better way to catch an early beating than to be caught sleeping in, which is what theyd accuse me of if I were to fall to the floor. Feedin time for yall, bettern you deserve.
The groans and sobs of other slaves sound out in unflattering imitation of my own, for none are spared this casual abuse so long as Gortan is here. Another Bristleboar might be less thorough and meticulous, but those who dont get the boot get a slap, and those who dodge the slap get a glare, which Ive now learned is an unspoken promise of compounded suffering later. Better to take the hit here and now than be singled out for more punishment later, or at least, thats what I tell myself. Even then, I knew it wasnt true, that no matter what I did, I would suffer for it, and as I lower my inner walls and willingly immerse myself in the memories for the first time ever, it all comes rushing back to me as if I never left. The shame, the fear, the dread, its all coming back to me now, and the only thing that keeps me from kicking and screaming in abject denial is the fact that I am merely a passenger in these memories of mine.
It's been more than ten years since I set foot inside this filthy slave pen, but there are still mornings when I wake up with a start, trying to dodge a phantom kick which will never come. That was the worst part of my time in the mines, not necessarily the torment itself, which was unpleasant to say the least, but the anticipation was so much worse. Every morning, I woke up to abuse and knew there would be more waiting in store, and I would base my every action and decision in hopes that my behaviour would somehow mollify my captors and reduce the severity of my inevitable punishment. Keep my head down and do as Im told, work hard, but blend into the background, pick up rocks to demonstrate my value, but no matter what I do, the abuse continues to be heaped on day after day after day.
Indifference. Inadequacy. Incompetence. Words which describe my plethora of insecurities, but fail to truly convey the depths of my misery, but the words are not important. Emotion is my weapon here, a lifetime of suffering which I would not wish upon my worst enemy, but there is still more buried deep within. Everything Ive touched upon is merely the result of the defining moment in my life, a life which was never mine to begin with. Thats where most of my issues stem from, the fact that I feel I do not belong here, that I was never supposed to open my eyes on that slave auction stage and go on to become the Number One Talent and Legate of the Outer Provinces.
An undeniable truth, but its so much worse than I ever thought.
The memory comes unbidden to me, and I struggle in an effort to reject it, but I cannot win against my own psyche. The truth unfolds before my eyes, a truth Ive buried deep, but one I can no longer deny in light of recent events. Here I stand beneath the pale, wan sun, peaking out just over the horizon to cast away the shadows and envelop the world is an unearthly glow. Dim though it might be, it still hurts my eyes after so many months immersed in darkness, a yearly occurrence for as long as I can remember. Usually, the stars alone shed light enough to navigate through these frozen, unforgiving wastes, but the days will grow brighter and brighter until it becomes too blinding to go out, before slowly giving way to the darkness once more.
I much prefer the darkness, especially right now, because if the world was cast in gloom and shadows, then I wouldnt be able to see the face of my opponent and be reminded of what we share, or what we must do now that the sun has risen.
Though he is younger, he stands a head and a half taller and almost twice as wide as my spindly frame. Hes always been bigger than me though, a marked advantage in this battle of life and death, because superior skill can only go so far before sheer muscle overwhelms you, and I lack both. Head shaved and chest bared, he scowls as our eyes meet and I see his hesitation, hesitation which is mirrored in mine because neither of us want this. There is no choice however, because the weak die and the strong survive, a truth we both accept here and now. This is our way of life, one which has been drilled into our minds and bodies since the day we could walk. There is no room for mercy or compassion in our hearts, no place for friendship or empathy, only the cold, harsh rules of reality which we both must adhere to.
He's always been the stronger one, this much was made clear right from the start. When pitted against the younglings our age, he always got the lions share of the prize, regardless if it be food, shelter, comfort, or anything else. Thats why hes grown so much taller and bigger, while I remained a bundle of bones and skin with barely any muscle at all, meaning our conflict was more or less decided from the start. I should just give up now, give in to the inevitable and concede defeat, but I cant bring myself to surrender just yet. Not because I dont want to die, nor is it because I hope to live, but because I know itll be harder for him to kill me if I dont fight back.
So I fight. I throw myself at my foe, and it catches him off-guard, but hes strong enough to throw me off with ease. Rolling across the jagged, frozen earth, I recover in time to slip aside from his follow-up kick, one which wouldve caved my head in if itd connected. Throwing myself at his supporting leg, I drive him back half-a-handspan at most without even affecting his balance, and I feel my feet lifting off the ground as he regains his footing and hurls me aside. Shouldve slammed me down instead, because now I have strength enough to roll and recover, landing lightly on both feet just in time to narrowly dodge his charge. Pushing him along in hopes of buying myself some time, I skip backwards and freeze in place as my foe stumbles and falls to one knee, at which point instinct takes over. I leap onto his back and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing with every scrap of strength I still possess. He bucks and heaves before pushing himself to his feet, but I cling gamely on with my feet braced against his hips. Unable to pull me loose, my opponent predictably tries to fall backwards and slam me against the ground, but I was expecting as much and release my grip to push off his back and avoid being pinned between him and the earth. As his body crashes down, mine hangs in the air for a moment, just long enough for our eyes to meet before I begin my descent anew. Time stops as we bid each other farewell, and it pains me to see no hatred, fear, or even reluctance in his expression, only grudging acceptance and sweet relief.
He's glad. Glad that he doesnt have to kill me, and knowing this hurts more than any injury ever could.
Time resumes, and he crashes into the ground mere moments before my elbows slam home into the fragile bones of his neck. Death is instant, and as I take in my victory, there is no joy in my heart, no pleasure to be had, only a sense of incredulous disbelief at having survived this final trial, followed by a wave of horror and guilt at what Ive done. This life was not meant to be mine, because Ive never won against him before in my life, and I would have died a hundred times if not for the fact that our previous fights were only training matches. This was our first real life and death battle, one which no one expected me to survive, but survive I did because my opponent stumbled over a jagged rock and couldnt recover in time.
Breaking the rock which helped secure my victory, I use it to carve up my prize to bring home as proof, a routine Ive seen him do a thousand times before. To the victor goes the spoils, and I know I should partake in the strength of my fallen foe. I cannot remember the last time I dined on warm flesh, or even when my belly was full, and I do not have the strength to keep this whole prize to myself, but I am in no mood to eat. A foolish and stubborn denial, because I know he would have dined upon my flesh if our roles were reversed, but unlike him, I am unworthy.
I am the victor, but only because of dumb luck. I should be dead, he standing here in my place, but the heavens are cruel and merciless.
As expected, most of my prize is stolen before I make my way back home, because with my victory, I am no longer a child protected by custom, but an adult of the village free to grow my hair and beard both. There is no pride in the achievement, for it means I must labour even harder to earn my fair share or be banished, and I suspect I will be dead before the darkness comes again in a few weeks time. Carrying the single trophy left to me as proof of my undeserving victory, I return to my fathers lair and make my way inside, even though I know I should not be here, and should instead be fighting for a place to carve out my own lair before the other new adults return. Theres something I must do first though, something I need to prove to myself, which is why I came here instead. Cradling my little brothers head in my arms, I take a seat before my mother who has yet to notice my arrival, lost in her thoughts and dreaming of a different life as she almost always is. I have returned, I declare, and only then does she stop staring off into nothingness to register my presence, before giving my prize a questioning gaze. I can see the question in her eyes, because no one expected my little brother to die, especially not against me, the weakest of the weak. He stumbled and fell, so I killed him and won.
Her brow furrows in surprise and confusion, unable to make sense of what I said. Her amber eyes take in my face, then the face of my twin brother who is dead and gone, only to come back to mine without any hint of grief, pleasure, or any other emotion besides mild curiosity. You killed the warrior, she declares, stating the obvious with a tilt of her head. Which one are you again? Not the slayer. Not the glutton. Not the dagger or the wretched, the spear or the blooded. I know not your face, only that you are not my little light.
In her mind, our names were merely labels, but it was all shed given us, all we had, and she doesnt even remember all of our faces. Mine least of all, despite being the one who needed her the most, the weakest runt of the litter who was destined for death. Or maybe thats why she didnt bother remembering me in the first place, because she assumed my death was inevitable, but I survived in spite of the odds, at the cost of my brothers life. My little brother Baledagh, the Warrior, the strongest one of all, and the only reason I survived to reach the age of twelve and undergo the ceremony of adulthood. He fought and won the lions share every single time, but he always saved enough for me, because he knew Id die without it. Thats why our father pitted us against each another, because such weakness could not be tolerated, but my little brother protected me to the end.
I am Amigui, I reply, amused by how apt my name is. The lifeless. Stillborn yet unable to die, an ill-omen if there ever was one. Thats all there is to say, as my mothers expression turns to one of disgust and revulsion before turning away so she no longer has to look at me, because I am as dead to her now as the day I came out the womb, only minutes ahead of my little brother. Nothing will ever change this, a truth I must now accept, for she only has room for her little light in her heart, her Gerel who she left behind. Leaving with my brothers head still cradled in my arms, I bring him out to the edge of camp where we can watch the rising sun together, because unlike me, he always loved the light. The others return and are surprised to see me, but I pay them no mind, nor do I care to answer my father when he comes to ask me why Ive yet to secure my own dwelling. The sun slowly rises as the days pass by, and I continue to keep my brother company, because I never expected to make it this far and have no idea what Im supposed to do now, nor do I care to even try. I eat when I must, because I cannot squander this life that has been gifted to me, and soon enough, all that is left of my brother is a skull and nothing else.
At which point my father arrives to tell me Ive been banished from the village for my failure to contribute. I take the news in stride and leave my brothers skull behind, because unlike me, he deserves a place among his people. I say nothing as father carries me away to a far-off land steeped in colours Ive never seen. I presume its so I cant make my way back to the village, but then he hands me over to a person I dont recognize who throws me into a cage. Not that it matters, because this changes nothing, and I simply close my eyes and wish that I had died in birth rather than be born to a world that didnt want me.
And when I open my eyes again, Amigui is gone, with Rayne standing in his place, and the rest is history. The torrent of once-suppressed memories surges through me in a maelstrom of grief, guilt, shame and more as I struggle to come to grips with a past I tried so hard to forget and was not even remotely ready for. The denial, regret, and self-loathing, all of it is almost too much to bear, too real and too obvious to ignore any longer as the root causes of my many insecurities are made all too evident. I was rejected by my mother, neglected and abandoned by my father, yet I repaid the only person who ever cared for me with betrayal most foul. Everything I have, everything Ive accomplished, all of it is fruit of the poisoned tree, and I truly do not deserve this life of mine.
This is my truth, one I can no longer deny no matter how much I wish it were otherwise. Whether I am Amigui, Falling Rain, or Rayne, I am, at my core, unworthy. This I know for certain, though I am still unsure as to how or why I awakened to memories of a past life, but this is me. I am Amigui and Rayne both, of this world and the last, and Falling Rain still merely an amalgamation of the two. Those actions were mine, and the karma sown within two lives must eventually be reaped. The consequences are mine to bear, and I must accept this, for there is no other choice, but I put all this aside to focus on finishing what I started. I dont know what to make of it all, but I cant keep hiding from the past, no matter how dark and dismal it might be. Much as I wish I could change the past, every step taken along my Path is a necessary one, especially the ones I regret most, because without the mistakes and suffering of my past, I would not be the man I am today.
A giant mess of a man with more baggage than a commercial airport, all of which I will now embrace and dump onto Zhen Shi, because fuck him in particular. All thats left to do is pick out the right words to express my emotions through Oration, an answer which comes unbidden as the maudlin melody leaves my sombre, smiling lips.
Hello darkness my old friend
Chapter Meme
Chapter 813Everyone knows what its like to feel sad.Theres no arguing this. Thats just life. You have good days, bad days, and everything else in between, but were here to talk about the worst of the worst, the lowest of lows that everyone drops down to at one point or another. You wake up and everything feels off for one reason or another. Maybe your head hurts, or youre homesick, or you just lost someone close to you, but whatever the reason, you dont feel like leaving bed to face the world just yet. Much as youd like to call an audible and take the day off, most either cant or wont and just have to power through it. They get up, brush their teeth, maybe take a shower and make breakfast, then go about their day in spite of being down in the dumps. It sucks, but needs must. You gotta eat to live and you gotta work to eat, so you keep your head down and your nose to the grindstone until you no longer feel so down. Maybe your coffee perks you up, or someone cute smiles at you on the bus, or your friend texts you a funny meme of a dog saying something stupid. Could be your spouse, your kids, your parents, someone or something else which puts a spring in your step, or maybe you just figure it out yourself. Either way, it doesnt matter how you lift yourself out of your funk, but it happens nonetheless, and you feel good about having overcome a dark point in your life.Which is great. Life is tough, and you should celebrate the little victories. Now, not to disparage how others feel and minimize their accomplishments, but while this is what most people think of when they hear depression, they couldnt be more wrong. Sadness and depression are not the same thing, and while everyone has experienced the former, most people dont know shit when it comes to depression.Sure, part of it is being sad, which isnt that big a deal. Like I said, everyones been sad before, so just do something that makes you happy and youre good, right? Wrong. Depression isnt just sadness, but intense sadness, one that sucks up all the other emotions in your life. You wake up feeling like shit and you stay in bed despite knowing youll probably lose your job if you miss another day. Youre still tired even though you slept all night, and youll be tired all day too, except when it comes time for bed again, youll find yourself unable to fall asleep, which leaves you irritable and upset. So even though youve already committed to not leaving bed, every now and then, you find the strength to drag yourself out of bed and do something, anything to get yourself away from your thoughts. Maybe you hit up the mall, or fire up a game, or even meet up with friends and family, but despite being with the people you love and doing things you enjoy, youd much rather stop pretending youre having fun and just let yourself be depressed instead.Thats depression, a heavy weight that clings to you and drags you down at all times, making it an effort to even get up and greet the day, because youre just dreading the moment when you walk out the door and you see someone you know, they ask you how you are and you say that youre fine when youre not really fine, but you just cant get into it because they would never understand. Youve heard it all before, all the well-meaning advice and ignorant suggestions, like, Do something you enjoy, or, Just power through it, or You have so much going for you, so you should be happy! Yea, no shit. I know I should be happy, but if being happy was an option, who in their right mind would choose depression? No one, which should be a sign that all is not well when someone does exactly that, except now you made them feel depressed and ungrateful. Way to go.Depression is an affliction in every sense of the word, but those who dont know think they know and dont understand how difficult it can be, which makes it that much harder to shake off. They make being happy sound so easy, which makes you wonder why in the hell is it so difficult for you, furthering the downward spiral as you add another item to the long list of why youre fucked in the head. Its not the sadness that makes depression so difficult to break. Its the pervasiveness of the sadness, so all-encompassing that it takes the highest of highs and breaks its knees so it lines up with the lowest of lows. Doesnt matter what you do, because youre still down in the dumps, and keep this up long enough and the apathy kicks in. Youre sad and you feel sad, but you dont care, because whats the point in not feeling sad? Youll just be sad again, so why bother? For that same reason, why clean the house? Why cook a healthy meal? Why go to work, oftentimes the source of said sadness, or go out and see how happy other people are which will only make you feel even sadder in comparison. The depression takes over everything until you become numb to it, painting your life in shades of gloomy grey that all blend together into a dismal, dreary portrait which you cant bear to look at and dont bother trying to change because its a futile effort.Thats my take on depression, which I have struggled with for as long as I can remember. Theres more to it that is personal to me and me alone, like survivors guilt, not just from my time in the mines or the numerous close calls since then, but also in being here in the world at all. Theres my persistent anxiety, which is just my brain going through all the worst-case scenarios and telling me how everything is doomed from the start, which isnt helpful, but not entirely wrong either. You also cant overlook my myriad of personal traumas either, both real and illusory of which there are many, all of which is merely scratching the surface of the topic, What makes Falling Rain so broken?.A lot of shit, really. Theres no one glaring defect, but depression surely stands chief among them.While being numb to the world might make happiness impossible, an unexpected benefit is that it insulates you from sadness, anger, hatred, and various other emotions too. Thats why the Spectres lies and Zhen Shis illusions were never as effective as they would be on someone else. Not just because Ive watched a lot of T.V and know how to immerse myself without getting brainwashed into believing everything I see, but also because I live my life in a pit of despair from which there is no escape, but also nowhere to fall further. This enabled me to take in Zhen Shis visions of darkness and despair with a clear mind, and more or less ignore the Spectres since their whispered lies were nowhere near as damaging as the hurtful truths I tell myself all the freaking time. Sure, there were times when I almost fell for those lies, but inoculation to depression doesnt make you immune to being miserable, just less susceptible to further misery. At some point, you hit rock bottom and any added hardships and anguish have diminishing returns on how much shittier they make you feel, and therefore more capable of enduring even more before you reach your breaking point.And I have been infinitely close to breaking for as long as I can remember, but unwilling to wholly give in just yet. Its not that I want to live or am afraid of dying, but Ive just been ambivalent about survival most of the time. Why? Because life is hard and dying too easy, so might as well let fate decide.So when Zhen Shi stood over my broken and battered body, gloating about victory and the suffering I would soon experience, I could only laugh at his naivet. The man knows his stuff when it comes to pain and subjugation, for he has spent multiple lifetimes mastering these arts, but he knows nothing of true misery. I could see it in his eyes as he loomed over me, his expression one of triumph yet marred by doubt and disappointment as he noted my defiance even in the face of death, because he didnt understand why I had yet to succumb to his torment. It unnerved him to see me endure without screaming, laying there without a care in the world as he slowly and methodically broke my bones one by one by one, because in his mind, the battle was already won. What was the source of my courage? How was it possible for me not to give in to despair? The questions were right there on the tip of his tongue, so curious as to how I could still hold onto hope, because greater men and women than I had long since given in to lesser torments.What a sweet, summer child, to dare think pain was all it would take to break me. If that was the case, I wouldve died two weeks into my transmigration and re-rolled long before becoming the man I am today.Thus, I feel duty-bound to share what Id learned in this life and the last, because misery loves company, after all. Ordinarily, I wouldnt wish my innermost fears and concerns on my greatest enemy, mostly because I believe an attack like that should be outlawed as a war crime, but if Zhen Shis gonna try and manipulate my thoughts and emotions, then I should at least let him see what hes up against so he knows what hes up against.Now, I dont know how to weave illusions like he can, or whisper lies that sound like his own thoughts echoing inside his head, nor do I believe a measly Emotional Aura is enough to pierce through his defenses, so I have no choice but to rely on a skill I only vaguely understand how to use: Oration. Words to incite emotions, the premise is simple enough, but as far as I can tell, it only works when I truly feel and believe whatever emotions Im trying to convey. This means I cant merely reminisce about my lowest lows, but I must truly re-live and experience them in order to share what I feel with my audience of one. As an added twist, I dont want to give Zhen Shi time to react and stop my Oration short, so Im flying by the seat of my pants and doing what I can to condense everything Im trying to share all into one, simple sentence. Time comes to a standstill as I close my eyes and sink into the Void, where I find Buddy waiting to greet me with a tackle to the shins followed up by a vigorous tail-whipping as he wags uncontrollably about. Blobby is also around, floating aimlessly about, but I ignore him to take a seat so my sweet doggo can clamber into my lap. Hugging him tight here in the Void, my physical form cradles Mama Bun close, but even then, Im not sure I have enough floofs to keep this jaunt down memory lane from turning into a one-way trip.Lin-Lin only just saved and forgave me for trying to get myself killed saving Shi Bei, so I can hardly turn around and overdose on depression. What a way to go thatd be, but its not a price Im willing to pay, not anymore, even if I it means bringing Zhen Shi down with me. I just have too much to live for now, not just Lin-Lin, but for my wives, my family, my friends, and my floofs as well.Because even though I know theyll all be better off without me, itd be selfish to just give up now without at least giving it a go. Itll hurt when the inevitable finally comes around to bite me in the ass, but like they say, better to have loved and lost than never loved at all, right?Probably bullshit too, but whatever.Steeled and ready to begin my emotional assault on Zhen Shi, I kick-start this journey of emotional trauma by going back to the beginning. Or a beginning at least, one of many I still shudder when I think of. A boot slams into my protruding ribs and drives the air out of my lungs, but I push through the pain and hop to my feet in order to avoid a second kick. Get on yer feet, you worthless scum. A casual backhand catches me across the cheek and I taste blood in my mouth, but I go along with the impact and it doesnt drive me off my feet, which is a blessing to be sure. No better way to catch an early beating than to be caught sleeping in, which is what theyd accuse me of if I were to fall to the floor. Feedin time for yall, bettern you deserve.The groans and sobs of other slaves sound out in unflattering imitation of my own, for none are spared this casual abuse so long as Gortan is here. Another Bristleboar might be less thorough and meticulous, but those who dont get the boot get a slap, and those who dodge the slap get a glare, which Ive now learned is an unspoken promise of compounded suffering later. Better to take the hit here and now than be singled out for more punishment later, or at least, thats what I tell myself. Even then, I knew it wasnt true, that no matter what I did, I would suffer for it, and as I lower my inner walls and willingly immerse myself in the memories for the first time ever, it all comes rushing back to me as if I never left. The shame, the fear, the dread, its all coming back to me now, and the only thing that keeps me from kicking and screaming in abject denial is the fact that I am merely a passenger in these memories of mine.It's been more than ten years since I set foot inside this filthy slave pen, but there are still mornings when I wake up with a start, trying to dodge a phantom kick which will never come. That was the worst part of my time in the mines, not necessarily the torment itself, which was unpleasant to say the least, but the anticipation was so much worse. Every morning, I woke up to abuse and knew there would be more waiting in store, and I would base my every action and decision in hopes that my behaviour would somehow mollify my captors and reduce the severity of my inevitable punishment. Keep my head down and do as Im told, work hard, but blend into the background, pick up rocks to demonstrate my value, but no matter what I do, the abuse continues to be heaped on day after day after day.Indifference. Inadequacy. Incompetence. Words which describe my plethora of insecurities, but fail to truly convey the depths of my misery, but the words are not important. Emotion is my weapon here, a lifetime of suffering which I would not wish upon my worst enemy, but there is still more buried deep within. Everything Ive touched upon is merely the result of the defining moment in my life, a life which was never mine to begin with. Thats where most of my issues stem from, the fact that I feel I do not belong here, that I was never supposed to open my eyes on that slave auction stage and go on to become the Number One Talent and Legate of the Outer Provinces.An undeniable truth, but its so much worse than I ever thought.The memory comes unbidden to me, and I struggle in an effort to reject it, but I cannot win against my own psyche. The truth unfolds before my eyes, a truth Ive buried deep, but one I can no longer deny in light of recent events. Here I stand beneath the pale, wan sun, peaking out just over the horizon to cast away the shadows and envelop the world is an unearthly glow. Dim though it might be, it still hurts my eyes after so many months immersed in darkness, a yearly occurrence for as long as I can remember. Usually, the stars alone shed light enough to navigate through these frozen, unforgiving wastes, but the days will grow brighter and brighter until it becomes too blinding to go out, before slowly giving way to the darkness once more.I much prefer the darkness, especially right now, because if the world was cast in gloom and shadows, then I wouldnt be able to see the face of my opponent and be reminded of what we share, or what we must do now that the sun has risen.Though he is younger, he stands a head and a half taller and almost twice as wide as my spindly frame. Hes always been bigger than me though, a marked advantage in this battle of life and death, because superior skill can only go so far before sheer muscle overwhelms you, and I lack both. Head shaved and chest bared, he scowls as our eyes meet and I see his hesitation, hesitation which is mirrored in mine because neither of us want this. There is no choice however, because the weak die and the strong survive, a truth we both accept here and now. This is our way of life, one which has been drilled into our minds and bodies since the day we could walk. There is no room for mercy or compassion in our hearts, no place for friendship or empathy, only the cold, harsh rules of reality which we both must adhere to.He's always been the stronger one, this much was made clear right from the start. When pitted against the younglings our age, he always got the lions share of the prize, regardless if it be food, shelter, comfort, or anything else. Thats why hes grown so much taller and bigger, while I remained a bundle of bones and skin with barely any muscle at all, meaning our conflict was more or less decided from the start. I should just give up now, give in to the inevitable and concede defeat, but I cant bring myself to surrender just yet. Not because I dont want to die, nor is it because I hope to live, but because I know itll be harder for him to kill me if I dont fight back.So I fight. I throw myself at my foe, and it catches him off-guard, but hes strong enough to throw me off with ease. Rolling across the jagged, frozen earth, I recover in time to slip aside from his follow-up kick, one which wouldve caved my head in if itd connected. Throwing myself at his supporting leg, I drive him back half-a-handspan at most without even affecting his balance, and I feel my feet lifting off the ground as he regains his footing and hurls me aside. Shouldve slammed me down instead, because now I have strength enough to roll and recover, landing lightly on both feet just in time to narrowly dodge his charge. Pushing him along in hopes of buying myself some time, I skip backwards and freeze in place as my foe stumbles and falls to one knee, at which point instinct takes over. I leap onto his back and wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing with every scrap of strength I still possess. He bucks and heaves before pushing himself to his feet, but I cling gamely on with my feet braced against his hips. Unable to pull me loose, my opponent predictably tries to fall backwards and slam me against the ground, but I was expecting as much and release my grip to push off his back and avoid being pinned between him and the earth. As his body crashes down, mine hangs in the air for a moment, just long enough for our eyes to meet before I begin my descent anew. Time stops as we bid each other farewell, and it pains me to see no hatred, fear, or even reluctance in his expression, only grudging acceptance and sweet relief.He's glad. Glad that he doesnt have to kill me, and knowing this hurts more than any injury ever could.Time resumes, and he crashes into the ground mere moments before my elbows slam home into the fragile bones of his neck. Death is instant, and as I take in my victory, there is no joy in my heart, no pleasure to be had, only a sense of incredulous disbelief at having survived this final trial, followed by a wave of horror and guilt at what Ive done. This life was not meant to be mine, because Ive never won against him before in my life, and I would have died a hundred times if not for the fact that our previous fights were only training matches. This was our first real life and death battle, one which no one expected me to survive, but survive I did because my opponent stumbled over a jagged rock and couldnt recover in time.Breaking the rock which helped secure my victory, I use it to carve up my prize to bring home as proof, a routine Ive seen him do a thousand times before. To the victor goes the spoils, and I know I should partake in the strength of my fallen foe. I cannot remember the last time I dined on warm flesh, or even when my belly was full, and I do not have the strength to keep this whole prize to myself, but I am in no mood to eat. A foolish and stubborn denial, because I know he would have dined upon my flesh if our roles were reversed, but unlike him, I am unworthy.I am the victor, but only because of dumb luck. I should be dead, he standing here in my place, but the heavens are cruel and merciless.As expected, most of my prize is stolen before I make my way back home, because with my victory, I am no longer a child protected by custom, but an adult of the village free to grow my hair and beard both. There is no pride in the achievement, for it means I must labour even harder to earn my fair share or be banished, and I suspect I will be dead before the darkness comes again in a few weeks time. Carrying the single trophy left to me as proof of my undeserving victory, I return to my fathers lair and make my way inside, even though I know I should not be here, and should instead be fighting for a place to carve out my own lair before the other new adults return. Theres something I must do first though, something I need to prove to myself, which is why I came here instead. Cradling my little brothers head in my arms, I take a seat before my mother who has yet to notice my arrival, lost in her thoughts and dreaming of a different life as she almost always is. I have returned, I declare, and only then does she stop staring off into nothingness to register my presence, before giving my prize a questioning gaze. I can see the question in her eyes, because no one expected my little brother to die, especially not against me, the weakest of the weak. He stumbled and fell, so I killed him and won.Her brow furrows in surprise and confusion, unable to make sense of what I said. Her amber eyes take in my face, then the face of my twin brother who is dead and gone, only to come back to mine without any hint of grief, pleasure, or any other emotion besides mild curiosity. You killed the warrior, she declares, stating the obvious with a tilt of her head. Which one are you again? Not the slayer. Not the glutton. Not the dagger or the wretched, the spear or the blooded. I know not your face, only that you are not my little light.In her mind, our names were merely labels, but it was all shed given us, all we had, and she doesnt even remember all of our faces. Mine least of all, despite being the one who needed her the most, the weakest runt of the litter who was destined for death. Or maybe thats why she didnt bother remembering me in the first place, because she assumed my death was inevitable, but I survived in spite of the odds, at the cost of my brothers life. My little brother Baledagh, the Warrior, the strongest one of all, and the only reason I survived to reach the age of twelve and undergo the ceremony of adulthood. He fought and won the lions share every single time, but he always saved enough for me, because he knew Id die without it. Thats why our father pitted us against each another, because such weakness could not be tolerated, but my little brother protected me to the end.I am Amigui, I reply, amused by how apt my name is. The lifeless. Stillborn yet unable to die, an ill-omen if there ever was one. Thats all there is to say, as my mothers expression turns to one of disgust and revulsion before turning away so she no longer has to look at me, because I am as dead to her now as the day I came out the womb, only minutes ahead of my little brother. Nothing will ever change this, a truth I must now accept, for she only has room for her little light in her heart, her Gerel who she left behind. Leaving with my brothers head still cradled in my arms, I bring him out to the edge of camp where we can watch the rising sun together, because unlike me, he always loved the light. The others return and are surprised to see me, but I pay them no mind, nor do I care to answer my father when he comes to ask me why Ive yet to secure my own dwelling. The sun slowly rises as the days pass by, and I continue to keep my brother company, because I never expected to make it this far and have no idea what Im supposed to do now, nor do I care to even try. I eat when I must, because I cannot squander this life that has been gifted to me, and soon enough, all that is left of my brother is a skull and nothing else.At which point my father arrives to tell me Ive been banished from the village for my failure to contribute. I take the news in stride and leave my brothers skull behind, because unlike me, he deserves a place among his people. I say nothing as father carries me away to a far-off land steeped in colours Ive never seen. I presume its so I cant make my way back to the village, but then he hands me over to a person I dont recognize who throws me into a cage. Not that it matters, because this changes nothing, and I simply close my eyes and wish that I had died in birth rather than be born to a world that didnt want me.And when I open my eyes again, Amigui is gone, with Rayne standing in his place, and the rest is history. The torrent of once-suppressed memories surges through me in a maelstrom of grief, guilt, shame and more as I struggle to come to grips with a past I tried so hard to forget and was not even remotely ready for. The denial, regret, and self-loathing, all of it is almost too much to bear, too real and too obvious to ignore any longer as the root causes of my many insecurities are made all too evident. I was rejected by my mother, neglected and abandoned by my father, yet I repaid the only person who ever cared for me with betrayal most foul. Everything I have, everything Ive accomplished, all of it is fruit of the poisoned tree, and I truly do not deserve this life of mine.This is my truth, one I can no longer deny no matter how much I wish it were otherwise. Whether I am Amigui, Falling Rain, or Rayne, I am, at my core, unworthy. This I know for certain, though I am still unsure as to how or why I awakened to memories of a past life, but this is me. I am Amigui and Rayne both, of this world and the last, and Falling Rain still merely an amalgamation of the two. Those actions were mine, and the karma sown within two lives must eventually be reaped. The consequences are mine to bear, and I must accept this, for there is no other choice, but I put all this aside to focus on finishing what I started. I dont know what to make of it all, but I cant keep hiding from the past, no matter how dark and dismal it might be. Much as I wish I could change the past, every step taken along my Path is a necessary one, especially the ones I regret most, because without the mistakes and suffering of my past, I would not be the man I am today.A giant mess of a man with more baggage than a commercial airport, all of which I will now embrace and dump onto Zhen Shi, because fuck him in particular. All thats left to do is pick out the right words to express my emotions through Oration, an answer which comes unbidden as the maudlin melody leaves my sombre, smiling lips.Hello darkness my old friendChapter Meme
