Two days had passed since Hazel had found me.
Hazel lay outstretched on the floor while I slept in her bedroll. She insisted I sleep inside, and a nagging feeling told me I'd be a fool to decline it.
The bedroll was surprisingly well kempt, not near as wretched as I thought it would be.
Why did I think that? Why did I assume that the bedroll wouldn't be suited to my liking? Why did the prospect of me sleeping on the floor appeal to me far more than sleeping in the bedroll even after I knew that it was clean.
Around midnight, it came again. That voice, calling out to me in my dreams.
Gaioa...Me...ury...
A voice that seemed so familiar, yet so unfamiliar. My own voice? I recognised it as my own, yet it didn't sound as if it was mine.
Again,that name. Gaioa. The Capital of the Empire.
Why did this name continuously ring in my mind.
Within the darkness of my dreams, a feeling of uneasiness would invade my sub-concious. Once again, that voice would return.
Wake up. You've slept too long. Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!
I awoke with a start. My body jerked upward violently, and I grabbed the first weapon I could find.
Picking up a large vase, my breathing was sporadic, heavy. Hazel was awake, saying something. Her voice was drowned out.
Panic became serenity, and in a few seconds I was calm, collected, my grip tightening around the vase.
Hazel approached me with caution, placing a hand on my wrist. An instant later, I had her on the floor, Vase raised, ready to bash her skull in.
She yelled out, and her voice snapped me out of my trance.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, fear clouded her mind.
"Hey...you're okay..." She said.
I gently put the vase back, sitting down.
My actions felt so alien, yet so familiar. Those reactions, those reflexes, the instinct to fight.
Hazel seemed terrified, but I felt no empathy, no reason to apologise for what I'd just done or for scaring her.
"I'm sorry." I lied.
No guilt for lying, no sorrow for nearly killing her. No hesitation aside from her screaming.
A Killer's Instinct...
I'd taken Hazel to the ground with the brutality to take down the hardiest of soldier in an instant.
Was I trained? By whom?
All these curiousities culminated in one single question.
Who...am I?
YOU ARE READING
Husk
FantasyThe Age Of Man is ending. Aerion is a world, decrepit and dying. Men fight over fickle matters, constantly fighting against the monsters that hide outside their walls. Yet, at times, the worst monsters are those under the guise of being human. A...
