Chapter 6: Cursed is the Damned

A bemused smile flickers across her face. Listening to what Medea has prophesized of her.
:Evil
"Is that what I am..." A whisper, barely audible, cold.
:Evil. Tainted. Not pure.
She clenches her fist, body shaking with anger. She turns, sweeping her cloak out of the way and leaving for the balcony.
"I am so..."
She grips the balcony railing until her knuckles turn white, until a crack forms in the railing, between her hands. Until she bleeds.
"Crused mother, cursed father, cursed is the love that hath born me to this cursed existance!"
She shudders at he words.
:May they cut deeply.
She increases the grip on the railing, blood seeping through, flowing through the cracks. Blood trails. Life ever flowing.
:I am the damned.

Hours gone bye, the blood has run dry. She remains standing, ever so still. Almost a statue. Almost.
"M'lady..."
She tenses slightly at the familiar voice. She does not turn, nor answer his greetings.
"M'lady..."
She hears the soft rustle of clothing move next to her, only then does she speak.
"The nigh' grows lovely, does it not?"
She sighs, relaxing her grip upon the railing, her woungs now finally able to heal themselfs fully. He does not answer, only turning his eyes from her to the stars above. She speaks again.
"I have not the time to enjoy such beauty."
"Perhaps, m'lady. Perhaps you do not wish to see this beauty."
She turns to look at him, not quite understanding, yet understanding.
"Perhaps, Old One. Perhaps you are right."
She turns her attention back towards the sky, seemingly to forget that the old man was there. She sighs softly.
"Cursed, 'tis I."
"M'lady? Something wrong?" He brings his gaze upon her once more, an almost worried expression upon his face. She turns, silver eyes blank, unreadable.
"You already know, m'lord. I need not explain myself."
He nods, knowing what she says stands true.
She smirks, turning her attention once more to the stars.
"You are a mage, m'lord?"
"Of sorts. Aye."
"Why is it then, you remain here, doing what you do and not as the court mage?"
She chuckles softly as he scoffs at the very idea.
"Court mage? 'Tis an outright insult, m'lady! Such an occupation should double as the Court Jester!"
She chuckles softly at the descriptioin unintentionally given to the current court mage.
"Aye, I admit, Irolyr is a bit of a fool at times."
He laughs softly in embarrassment, realizing what he has just said.
"I am sure he will be happy to know you think so highly of him, m'lady."
She smiles slightly, hardly noticable, reminding herself.
:Trust no one. Least of all the mages.

She sighs softly, retiring to her room. Looking at her desk, she is reminded of her promise to Marius. The pen and parchment remains untouched for a fortnight already. She sighs again, knowing she will not sleep tonight.

Khat was my friend, my protectorate, my family and my lover. My love. He knew me, as I will never know myself. He knew my heart, my soul. He was a part of me as much as my own heart is a part of my body.
When he was killed, I became what I am now. Cursed. He was my heart, my soul. My existence. I am now, no more. An empty shell of nothingness. Nothing.
I feel for none. I feel nothing but pain. Pain and desolation. I know what true pain is. I live it, everyday of my life, for all of eternity. Until the day I am slain. I wish to die, yet I live on. Khat's last words were "Never give into the Shadow Lover." How am I to refuse his last request? His last wish of me? It pains me to live so, but it would pain more, even after death, to break my promise to my beloved. My heart and soul.

She turns away, heart cramped and painful memories retching from her mind.
Love. Death. Love. Death. Love. Death. Death. Death!
She screams in fustration, pain and longing. A sapphire glow surrounds her entire self, lighting the room with it's ghostly light. She screams again, facing the window and firing a bolt of pure energy into it, shattering the window and the surrounding wall. She sighs, collapsing into the bed, drifting into troubled sleep.

"Rowan...Rowan Tspesh."
She looks up, looking for the voice. Familiar but so at such a distance.
"Rowan. My beloved."
The voice. Where is it coming from? What is it? She knew the voice, but not the face.
"Rowan, my love. You must get up now. Do not bother with my identity, beloved. I will reveal myself in due time. Get up, my love."
She gets up slowly, unsure if she was dreaming or not, but she obliges to the voice.
"Look to the window, beloved. What do you see?"
She looks, seeing a large hole where her window was to be, charred remains hanging from the wall.
"I see damage caused only by a mage and a mage alone."
"Good. Now beloved. Has someone attempted to attack you with this bolt?"
She looks around the room, seeing no signs of further damage.
"Nay, it was fired from within this room, not an outer source."
"Ah, beloved. Do you understand?"
She nods, yet she does not understand.
"It was by me."
"Aye, m'love. You have done well, as always. Remember, beloved. I shall always be here. Remember your promise to me, my love. Now sleep dear angel. Sleep my beloved."
She looks up, just in time to see the image of Khat, her beloved, slowly fading away. She reaches up a hand to touch him, but it only passes through.
"Ayrke, beloved, do not leave me again."
The image disappears in a flash of light. Whispers of "Remember" float amongst the wind.
"Remember."
"Beloved."

She wakes up, with no recollection of the dream. Her body aches, feeling drained. A sudden cold wind makes her look out the window, finding what charred remains of it left. She bolts up, pushing aside her pain and looking out her window. Bits of ashes blow in, landing lightly on her face and body. She looks to the street below, finding what parts of her windows remain.
She frowns deeply.
:Fired within this room, not from outside.
She extends what little mage powers she possessed and 'felt' for the presence of another in her room.
She found none.
It slowly dawned on her.
:It was by me.
She frowns, knowing her mage skills were only that of telekinesis, none other and even those were not strong. Highly doubtful that other skills remained dormant for such a length of time. It is not possible.
:It cannot be by me! I have not the power, nor the skill.
She touches the charred remains of her window, further spreading ashes upon herself. She steps back, shocked at the surge of power arch from the ashes into herself.
:Energy. From self. Not the nodes of the land.
She nods slowly. Old instincts tapping in. Telling her what little information can be gather at this site.

Open air. Fresh air.
The taste of freedom, isn't it. Is that what you breath, Rowan? Do you breath the air of freedom? Or are you forever trapped? Trapped by...what? Trapped you are, but by what, Rowan? What are you trapped by?

She sighs softly, breathing in the morning air, slipping in from the boarded up window. She manages to board up the hole temporarily until she has more time...and resources to replace the window.
"It cannot be done by me! I do not know how, nor have the power to do so!"
She frowns, wondering why she was so intent on denying such facts, as such great power would be an asset to one such as herself.
:With great power, great knowledge, comes a greater burden of responsibility. Used wrongly, the consequences amount to greater than the prize.
She sighs, pushing the thought out of her mind.
:Power, knowledge. Responsibility. Concequences...
"One would be so lucky as to be born a fool.
She finds herself smiling despite the atmosphere in rememberance of the previous nights - the old man's comment of the Court Mage.
"Fool indeed."

I was a mercenary. Am a mercenary. I kill. I've almost always Killed. 'Tis almost a second nature to me. Almost like living another life. But one I do not try to hide. I do not keep many friends or loved ones. For the simple reason that they will only get in the way. Be used against me. Turn against me. Much too dangerous, too much of a risk, a chance, something I can easily avoid. Aye. It means I must remain alone. Aye. I most likely will remain alone for the rest of my profession. 'Tis not a matter when one has gotten used to being alone. I know not how long it will be. Perhaps for all eternity, perhaps today, I decide will be my last of days.
Yes. I decide. I hold no chains bound to anyone. No one I would call "Master." I hold no chains, no string. Nothing.
Aye. I kill for money. Not for the pleasure of doing so. I for a fact find no pleasure in what I do. I only do so as this is what I do best. All that I know. Greusome I admit, but 'tis life. I am a mercenary, a krakhead not because I enjoy, but because I must.
Here, I tell you things, many will never know. It is only here will you find what is left of my soul. My thoughts, my mind. Aye. I only show to those who have seen me, what I wish them to know. I trust no one. Everyone is potentially an enemy. I know not why I write this, pouring out my heart and soul - what is left of them - to you, but in a way, I trust you.

She looks down at the parchment, wondering why she even promised Marius that she would write her life story to him. There was nothing to her life. Nothing. Ever since she could remember, she had no place in her life. It was all in three stages. Birth, duty, death.
She sighs, remembering Khat. How they were one with each other. How perfectly linked they were. One.
"Khat." She whispers, floods of memories, his face, his movements. His voice.
Beloved.
She frowns, remembering hearing his voice just recently. She looks towards her window, boarded up, trying to remember.
Do not forget.
:The dream.
She looks up, almost as if looking for her bloved to appear in her room any moment.
:He was here. Khat.
She lifts her hands, feeling the planks of wood that boards up her window, trying to find his presence, a sign that he was here and it was not a dream.
Alas her search was in vain. There was no sign of him, even the last trace of energy slipping away at the edges of her mind.
:A dream. Only a dream.
"I am the damned. Cursed am I."