It was an End

The two pairs of eyes met for an instant only, because it was after that last instant that the world saw life leave Faelaer.1

It was an end, an end final and true.  But from that end Damithir found a new beginning.  A red beginning sprung up from the recesses of his body, his soul.  A wrath had been incurred so terrible that none of his enemies could stand against it.  They fell before the modest blade.  A blade wielded in rage, no longer desperation.2

And from his lips in a voice so soft as to be unheard came the words, “Death shall be my solace.  Return me unto it, and I shall rejoice,” Yet through his deeds the tide of battle had been swayed, the men rallied, the captains inspired.  But Damithir knew this not for his bloodlust gripped his senses, one thing only preserved his sanity; it was a question that a friend once asked the answer of him.  “Why is it after we lose our last shred of humanity that we fight the hardest to retain it.”  And with that in his mind he killed, and in killing he became an arbiter of justice, fighting to avenge Faelaer.  But mostly he fought, fought to retain his humanity, and really, in the end, that was all it took, the act of fighting.3

Before long there were no enemies left to fight.  Damithir alone stood in a sea of bodies.  Then the need to take life left him, leaving him a mortal man standing in a field of horrors, standing until he fell to his knees, on his knees until they gave way, and at long last a sleep deeper than death came over him.4

Through his deepest slumber Damithir was transported to a simpler time, the orchard at his old village, a harvest spent with friends, back to the day Faelaer asked the question that saved Damithir’s sanity.  “Why is it after we lose our last shred of humanity that we fight the hardest to retain it?” asked Faelaer, a curious tone was about the inquisitive comment.  And Damithir, a lifetime later in a dream now had an answer, “Maybe, just maybe, we have to lose what we have to know what we need.” 5