Behind The Searcher

I was jolted awake rather impolitely. My gut was still on fire. My limbs were still frigid. The clouds overhead were dismal and grey, hanging close to the ground to form a solid wall of despair.

A crowd came into focus around me, arms raised and a crazed glint in their eyes. I recognized this look; a fury brought on by uncontrollable fear. Scanning the mob, I almost passed a most hateful face. One I knew all too well. Salvarsar. He stood a few feet back from the masses, yet did nothing to water down the rage of the crowd. Perhaps because his own rage was a thousand times worse.

Sorrow. A sense of loss and a great weakness. This was new to me. I was too tired to care. Tired of all the fear I instilled, all of the pointed hatred. Tired of hiding in the shadows.
A portly man was in my face, yelling and spitting foul, pale yellow spittle. He must have been the village leader. He reeked of the stench of power.

My wrists were strapped down, my legs bound. I twisted my neck to the left; ah, that was why I could not feel my hand.

Two nails held each wrist to the ebony cross to which I was attached. I chose not to look down at my aching legs, and instead focused on the chafing of the rough rope tight around my neck.

A mound of dry wood surrounded me. I knew what was coming next.

A priest approached me, muttering to himself. Worry was etched deep into his face.

"God watches over us, son,"

I slowly raised my head, and looked straight into his fearful eyes.

"You brought this on yourselves," I whispered. Though my strangled voice had given up on me, it could not have been more venomous.

He shook his head, as if he knew something I did not.

I know more than he could imagine.

- - + - -

The priest called over a small boy, dripping candle in hand. It was painfully obvious how terrified the child was; trembling hands, deathly pale face, wide, frantic eyes.

He faced me. I don't know what my eyes showed him. A look of evil? Of confusion? Humanity?

Whatever it was, it made his eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and his mouth crack open a touch.

He looked distressed. I knew that look; that of one who is forced to go against their will.
I knew how this child was feeling. As if his insides were being torn in two. I gave him the bitter smile of a man condemned; a smile nonetheless.

The priest, Goddamn his eyes, noticed his hesitation and whacked the back of his head. The boy knelt down and lit the kindling.

I watched the fire spread, come closer. Fire. What a beautiful force of nature. Vindictive and destructive, yet elegant.

I found Salvarsar's face in the crowd; he was the only one not cheering. He had a jagged frown torn across his face. His eyes were vacant; dead set on me. Catching me looking at him, his eyes caught fire with a focused fury aimed right at me. This fire in his eyes hurt so much more than the one that was engulfing my legs. All I could feel was an aching in my chest, so severe it felt like I was going to explode with the sheer force of it.

Scanning the faces of the mob. They all had similar expressions, contorted with rage and a sick, childlike joy.

A thought struck me. A simple, yet oh so important one; we're all monsters. We are all vile, putrid creatures. Liars, rapists and murderers at heart.

As the flames consumed me, I was also consumed by a surge of uncontrollable hatred. These people, they are just as evil as I am.

Energy I didn't know I had flowed through my veins. My eyes snapped open.

I yanked at my wrists thrashing as violently as I was growling. Something had snapped inside of me, unleashing the inner beast.

I could feel blood vessels spurting out streams of hot blood. Tendons snapping, my flesh ripping. Right then, it felt wondrous.

One wrist free.

I saw the villagers panicking, the priest backing away from me.

With a guttural roar, my other wrist was torn from the black, burning cross to which my fate has been tied.

The fire had devoured the restraints holding my legs, so all that was left between me and these fools was the rope around my neck. But I was not going to let that stop me. Not now.
I clawed at the rope like a savage, ripping it apart with my nails. Once I was free, my fingers were bloody, mangled things.

I zeroed in on the priest. The "holy" man. I sprung at him. My teeth connected to his neck, ripping out his throat. I may not have weapons or knives, but the blind rage of a dying man overpowers all.

His blood was sweet in my mouth as I watched him sink to the ground, clutching his ruined neck.

I felt my strength draining as I tore through the crowd. Still, I maimed and killed as many as possible. Salvarsar was nowhere to be seen, but I was done with him. He was far from my mind.

My mind, which had resorted to a more primal state. I was in a kill or be killed situation, and I wasn't going to go peacefully.

A trail of blood followed me. Some of it my own. After all, I had two gaping holes in my wrists, an even bigger hole in my gut, and my legs were burnt beyond recognition.

It was a bloody massacre. I must have felled dozens upon dozens of humans. Anyone who stood in my way. I figures, if I was doomed to rot in hell, I would drag as many lost souls as I possibly could along with me.

Eventually, I collapsed. I was just outside the village, in a lonely field.

Lying on my back, looking to the sky.

Soon I would leave this world.

I was gazing into the heavens, wondering what the other side had in store for me. I was at peace.

As I felt my body shutting down, my mind slowing, it began to snow. Fitting. When I murdered that man, it was snowing. The night this all started.

The wet snowflakes cooled my skin. I blinked them out of my eyes. I closed my eyes, a slight smile tugging at my lips. Breathed out. Shuddered, pulled in another painful breath. Breathed out, one final time. I let the smoke of my breath escape into the night, a swirling grey cloud in the darkness.

This is the end.