I feel joy. Hope returns to me. I strike at the heart of pain through violence. The one, true, solution to everything. The men are dead. They lie before me. I am covered in their blood. I want to let it dry on me. Does that make me a bad person? What makes one a bad person nowadays? I am not sure anymore. There is nothing more honest than open conflict. A challenge of pure ability and skill. In the end, everyone is left revealed to the others. Their intentions. Their character. Their strength of spirit. I laugh. I laugh out, as loudly as I can. Oh what joy. It hurts but I don't care. I think I need a new weapon. Preferably one that has more bite. The crunch of a maul is good enough but it ends too quickly. The slash of a blade makes them suffer as I have. Torment is what leads to purpose.
I remember when I ran from the bear. Father, you would be ashamed of me, the bear was going to be your dinner before it even had a chance to fight back. I wonder, did mother like bear meat? Did she ever mention anything about me? Maybe she hated me, hence why she left. Maybe I am just wrong. At least that is what most people think of me. That I am wrong. Not my ideas. Not my actions. Me as a person. My existence. Wrong. All but one person. Or creature. Or something entirely different than that. What a God should be. His touch was soft and welcoming. It is a touch that changed my life. A touch I will never forget.
Master, or new father, you have always been kind to me. You saved me from death and brought me new life. The others thought me strange, yet you knew better. Better than them. Better than me. Better. Maybe your name describes us all. We are not people, just shards. I remember you always gave me reason to continue. Encouraged me to press on. "Heather, you were born of death, so you can never die." you once said. Maybe I did die. Not in body, but in spirit. Maybe I died again recently. Maybe I will die again soon. Blood was ugly to me. Violence appalling. I was not who I am today. I simply didn't know.
You tried to talk to me. You tried to pull me back. You tried to stop me. Nothing worked. Except one thing. Violence. Through it, you saved me. I bear the mark of it still. It helps me press on still. It helps me remember. Nowadays I feel empty when I look at the world. It doesn't deserve to burn, yet it doesn't fight against it. Maybe it wants to burn. Maybe the Gods don't want it to get better. Maybe they want to see it burn. Just as I want to burn them.
What makes someone evil nowadays? Someone needs to give me the right answer. I tire of shades of grey. I tire of half-truths and white-lies. I want an answer. Or I will make one myself. As I continue this fight, my search takes me to distant lands. Maybe they have the answer I seek. I hope they do. I dream they do... Or when I become justice, my answer will be the one they abide by. None shall escape. All mortals will have to live and die for their dream.