Days had gone by swiftly, occupied by either fighting or running. Never winning though for those things...those...whatever they were, were unkillable.
An ear pitched screamed travelled through the trees, the very ground absorbing and then releasing them in an enhanced version.
It was paralyzing, ear bleeding but...their effects had been nullifying.
Within the dark corners stood a single man, what he fought was known only to him or perhaps not even to him.
He thrust one of his saber, moving quickly as the other retracted and then slashed against the air. Sparks flew as the saber seemed to only be pushed back upon its failed strike.
It was like hitting a blunt weapon upon a block of steel.
Suddenly, the ground seemed to come alive as they gripped his legs but then he reacted, summoning whatever power he had left as he channeled energy through himself and tore open the very ground.
It seemed to retreat briefly, only for a few seconds like it was surprised but quickly enough it surged with renewed vigor.
But that was all he needed as he jumped and moved with considerable effort away from his unresting pursuers.
His body aches, his mind broken as his thoughts were scattered.
Peace is a lie, there is only passion.
A whispering voice said, it was sweet, honest and truthful.
One must know that strength equals survival, strength is life and life is freedom.
The man moved, anger burnt through as the only emotion he had was a growing hatred for his situation.
How was it his fault, how was it his problem that any of this had happened? He did not beg for betrayal, he did not ask for destruction nor the obliteration of his home.
Another scream and suddenly his steps halted where they landed, a stronger force was pushing against him. It reached and clawed, causing his skin to tear and bleed.
Each drop falling into a soil that seemed ever more hungry for more, for the essence they held, for the life they lit.
He fought with everything he had, trying to push back whatever monster was hungering for his life but then...then he screamed as he felt a spiking tear at his shoulders.
He felt blood and pain, he reached in fear but only the thick air proved comfort. Yet the blades remained, etched into his skin.
He swung his blade, hitting something.
One must know that death is not the end.
He pushed against another, sensing its sneaking presence as his hands busied in effort of denial.
One must know that the futility of rage and pain only serves as false hope.
Each second passing saw his mind slowly engulfed in darkness, he...he was lost. But he could not end it here, he must not so he fought, drawing on his emotion and his hate.
Through passion, you gain strength.
One must remember that death is peace and peace must be accepted for duality leaves only chaos.
He pushed, gripping the blades that had served as his lifeline. His hands bruised, battered and bleeding.
He pushed, for his breathe that had little strength refused to go out.
One must know shame for the fallen, for it would seem that another has been lost. A count amongst many, an unknown amongst th countless.
He attacked with aggression and spite, trading limb for blow, pain for strike, seconds for blood. They would not fall and neither would he.
Another came and another and another and....their screams were infinite. Each pulling him into an abyss of pain, death and fear.
He felt his soul get pushed and gnawed out, his body shift like it become unfamiliar with itself. He felt his mind get quiet as a whisper permeated through it, echoing mindless like a thousand dead husks.
Through strength, you gain power.
One must accept ones fate as a tidal wave cares little for the sand it washes over.
His hands weakened and then his legs...it was quiet. It was the end for him.
" Damn..." he tried speaking, wishing to curse the order he once called home but only blood, pain and the broken husk of a body greeted him.
He...he wanted to survive. He wanted to live.
Through power, you gain victory.
One will be drowned in the failures of the unremembered, fated only to join in their ranks and haunt all who seek what you have failed.
His eyes closed and for a brief second, he felt at peace. Like he was back at the temple, playing and laughing. He remembered his master and his friends and his family. He remembered it all and the war.
The war tore into his skull, ripping what good feelings he had as it replaced them with a brutal eagerness.
One must understand that rest is not for the weak.
Through Victory, my chains are broken.
The force shall serve me.
He whispered under muttered breathe, the words rolling off as his eyes struggled under their own weight.
"Fight boy, fight"
The words came to him, he had not known when he had fallen. He had not realised that the sinking feeling he got was the ground greedily swallowing him up.
Unwilling to wait until his final breathe.
" Fight and Win. Fight and succeed. Fight and live. Fight and free me. Fight boy, FIGHT!"
The words repeated as he clawed and strained, he pushed and bit upon his own lip for some pain. He must move, he must survive.
He had to reach.
One had to reach.
He had to touch.
One had to touch.
He needed to grasp.
One needed not to grasp for one knew not of the danger.
It mattered not.
One must know it mattered quite a lot.
Ignore it, ignore it all.
One isn't listening.
No...I will not.
One will be doomed by ones action.
....too....late.
The thoughts formed as his hands touched the smooth pavement of civilization. He had not know that it was there, had not know that it even existed.
Neither sensing it or even seeing it but..at this very moment, he could see it clearly and it was present.
The markings upon it so finely made that one could not deny its importance, perhaps it was recent and new?
No, it was not.
You could sense it, feel it within your very soul. This thing...was ancient.
Far too ancient to remain like this.
His hands glossed over it the writing as blood dripped upon it. Then it began to rumble.
" Good job boy, Well Done!"
A voice boomed in glory as a helmet of simply design broke through the coffin, levitating mid air by its own power, it shifted and postured itself like it was above all others.
" For your reward, your life in eternal servitude " the voice - now booming from the mask - said with greedy eagerness as it shot towards the dying man.
Grasping his battered bleeding face and attaching itself with little resistance.
The man, hoping that this would be his lifeline was initially glad but quickly realizing the wrongness of it all, he tried to run...move, but it was too late.
His mind swelled as darkness encroached and grew with such exponential hunger for having been starved centuries.
" After an entire millenia, I have returned " the voice spoke in pure joyful anger.
A mind that has fought for days if not weeks was of little problem for a mind that had endured millenia.
It was over, in the end - fate had prevailed.
One must understand the serenity in neutrality, the peace and satisfaction in an unbothered home.
....
One must also understand the futility of fighting fate and its endless woven strings.
....
One must know that fate is as much true as it is false and so it must be understood before it is judged.
For the fate of one is already determined by the actions of another.
One must believe in the truth that precedes all and in the fate that awaits none.
For the force, as one titles it , has made judgement...and its judgement...is...Final.
A crack occurred, fast and unknown. It smeared the surface of a mask that had endured treachery of centuries, dust and destruction of more.
" What...what's happening" the voice panicked as it felt an attack.
One need not escape ones fate for one, upon ample time, has fallen into its embrace.
" No...no...no....noooo, You WILL NOT KEEP ME DOWN " The voice screamed in protest, violently tearing and destroying its surroundings in a futile attempt at self preservation.
To succeed, one will not, for one has lost the right to existence.
More cracks appeared across the mask and soon the voice drowned within its own pain as silence ensued.
One will have peace, even if...undeserved.
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Notes
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Fish