Italy,
1348
The fires burned with a relentless
passion; a hunger that consumed the tiny hamlet with great licking flames.
Smoke choked the night sky and blotted out the insignificant stars that, only
days ago, had meant so much. I could hear the screams of the few living, awoken
from dreams of agonizing death to find it upon them in another guise. The smell
of death, pestilence, and burning flesh assaulted my nostrils as I inhaled. My
lips curled up, slowly, in a smile that caught me by surprise. Their deaths,
their screams, their pain filled the hole within my chest; its raw, burning
edges placated by the atrocity I had committed.
This is what I was.
I let my eyes drift shut as I
listened to the music of their suffering.
Behind my lids I saw her sweet face,
her smile, her loving eyes as she looked into mine in the dark. It was too
much. The scream tore from my throat as an explosion rocked the little town and
the fire grew in intensity, its long burning fingers reaching out towards the
surrounding orchards. I called upon all of the strength within my ancient body,
summoning the winds to aid me in my destruction. I would burn the entire
continent, the world, if it would soothe the ache of her passing.
I felt it now.
I understood.
This is what it meant to be
forsaken.