…I remember most the taste of their blood, the smell of it. Not something you can easily forget, short of finding something even worse, and believe me I’ve been tempted. I’m not sure which would be worse. And I’m not sure I even want to forget. Rank as it might be, it’s one of the few things I have left to remember them by.
Which is grim.
I remember the bodies too. Looming like vultures without wings, ugly, primordial, sneering, and covered in the brands of their captor. Unwilling and unseeing. A filthy reflection of the people they once were, given in to servitude by the one who claimed he would save us.
I remember fighting that day. Thousands upon thousands of bodies crawling forward, hurling themselves into the air with hungry cries of agonized craving. They wanted my life as one had took theirs. I retaliated in kind, for my life was still my own- I fought to defend what remained of my people, and keep it. Their hands tore at my skin and fell to my chains.
They came without end.
I remember seeing the twisted faces of people I used to know, saddened in death at the monsters they had become. Men, women, children, young and old. All lost, alone. All screaming for what they’d done.
All because of one man’s cruel ambition.
I remember the hate I felt for that “man”. For what he’d done. It cannot pierce me as it did then, but I cannot abide any memory of his face, for fear that it will take me again.
In the heart of darkness I offered a silent prayer. For my people. For my princess. For every other forsaken soul to fall his way.
I remember the day we died.
One day, I swore, my chains would find him.
I remember his name.