No one knows who said it or where it even originated from. But it is believed that the places of our birth shapes the fate of all of our destinies. Sounds like spunk. Something an idiot will say to appear smart.

  However, there is some truth to those words. Our places of birth do shape us in some way. It is our actions and our choices that ultimately dictate what we are to become. Destiny is what we make of it, not what is thrust upon us. Even while I lay on my bed, incapable of getting some rest. I ponder the meaning of the quote.

  My mind races to my old home. Dragon Mine. The tunnels often lay silent, and the lanterns burn dimly. Earth is caging in all around me. My sky is rock, my ground is mud, and the walls are metal. I sit there alone as the earth slides down the palm of my hands. That was my home, the place of my birth. In the deepest tunnel, my mother left me to die when I was a small child. She abandoned me, brought me into the world with no intent to take care of me. Yet in these tunnels, I was found by a man I would gladly call a friend and a father. Dust took me as his own and looked after me when no one would. Is that my destiny? My mother is leaving me to die just so I can be taken in by another? Ridiculous!

  When I became my own man, I followed his example the best I could. The day I found Alex, alone in the tunnels, crying with hunger. I took him as my own. Because for some reason, one way or another, I see myself in him. Abandoned and left alone in a world that doesn’t care for you. A world that wishes it forgets about you, then acknowledges you as deserving of life. It was easy to walk away and let him die, but I have the power to choose what to do next. If what people say is true about our birthplaces dictating what we are, Alex would’ve been dead long ago.

  A sharp sting pierces my neck, making me jolt out of my bed and out of my dream. The night is still dark, though it is good to see the lantern is still on. I reach to my nape and pull out a thin needle. Immediately, my head begins to spin, my mind is cloudy while my vision is slightly blurry.

  ‘Everything’s okay?’ A familiar voice says from across the tent.

  I look up to see Alex, wearing his armour and carrying a sword. Not a weapon he usually uses, but still surprising to see him.

  ‘Alex? What are you doing here?’

  ‘I just want to check up on you, see how everything is doing.’

  ‘But I left you as Regent of the South, who is going to be in charge?’

  He simply smiles in response, as if he is happy to just see me. ‘Don’t worry about it, right now we should catch up.’

  He’s right, we should catch up. But something is wrong with him; he isn’t his usual self, even though it is pleasant to see him again. I hop out of bed to show him the map on my desk.

  ‘First, we need to discuss our plan against the Cinari. They are causing us some trouble.’

  ‘Well, they usually have something up their sleeves.’

  ‘Indeed,’ I place my finger where Jagged Mine is. ‘We need to take this mine, right now, we are losing a lot more soldiers than I am comfortable with. The place is surrounded by woods like in Letharus Mine, though it doesn’t seem like they are built on a hill or the side of a cliff face.’ I stop for a moment to rub my brow, my skull hot to the touch. ‘Got any suggestions? So far, I am only planning to attack straight on.’

  Alex looks at the map and pulls a face. ‘Seems like a solid plan on its own, I will be ready when you are. Afterwards, we’ll kill every Cinari and push further north. There, we can win this war without any further problems.’

  What? No alternatives, no suggestions, questions, nothing? ‘Alex, before I go back to sleep. Can I ask you something?’

  He smiles, ‘of course, ask away, your Majesty.’

  ‘Do you remember what we talked about before we head to the crossing?’

  Alex pauses, his smile fades to a worried expression. ‘We talked about our next plan, how to push forward. And while I’m here, we might as well discuss what we should do against the bastards.’ He sees me groan in pain, he reaches out to me, but I raise my hand at him, or whoever it is.

  ‘Fair point,’ I place one hand on their shoulder. Not out of love, because I know. They are not my son. ‘You almost convinced me.’

  Before they can react, I grab onto their throat and rip out their jugular. They look at me in shock as they grasp their throat, unable to breathe while they suffocate in their own blood. As they fall face-first, the Vern in my cage says something, but I can’t make out what it is.

  My heart thumps against my chest like a pick crashing against hard rocks. I can’t hear anything but my throat drying up and struggling to take in air. It did something to me, they must’ve!

  I search their corpse for anything that can stop the pain. I pull out three large syringes. My heart seizes, causing me to grab my chest to satiate the unbearable pain. The syringes have a blue liquid inside, and the needle itself looks thick and long. It has to go through me, through my chest.

  It has to be the cure! I raise it above me; if it is the poison, I’ll die. However, if I do nothing, I’ll also die. No matter what, I have no other choice but to put it inside of me. With a lunge, I stab my chest with the needle and pump the cold liquid into my heart.

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  Without hesitation, I rip it out of me. My mind clears, my vision returns, my heart still beats with the force of a thousand marching men. Yet it doesn’t hurt, no, it is something else!

  I look back at the dead body, on the ground is a Cinari. The bastard snuck into my camp! If there is one, there will be more of them. The smell of its blood reaches my nostrils, its sweet fragrance forces my mouth to bleed as my jaw clenches hard.

  On the table is May’s buckle. My breathing calms, my heart slowing down. I pick it up to rub my thumb across the flower etching. My beautiful girl, my little angel. Taken away from me! Taken by monsters!

  I wrap the belt buckle around my knuckles with a rag. This will be my weapon! I don’t need anything else. They are here! Their smell is near! They are all here!

  I stomp out of my tent, wearing nothing but my rags. Steam spews off my body, the snow melting as soon as it gets in contact with me. My fury rises at the sight of them near my tent. Three Cinari, wielding their swords in shock. They didn’t expect me to survive. Good, I hope they have the drive to kill me now.

  With a roar, I knock one of them into the ground by crashing into them. The other two jump back, keeping their distance. I won’t give them any! I bolt to the one on my right, swinging my fist at them. They sway and dodge my attacks, but they are not quick enough.

  The assassin swings their sword at me, but I grab their sword hand. Leaving them open for me to latch my fangs into their face. They scream and thrash around while I crunch down, their bones cracking under the pressure.

  Their friend rushes towards me. Skin and blood hang from my teeth as I let my victim go. My new opponent wants a fight. I’ll give them one!

  Blood gushes out as she manages to slice my right arm open. But I don’t care! No, I want more! I punch her in the chest; her ribs break upon impact. Without pause, I grab her leg, and with a twist, I pop it out of its socket. She screams, crying out in agony as the skin from her legs separates from her body.

  Distracted by the song of her suffering. The last one rushes to me and stabs me through the right leg with their sword. In retaliation, I whack them away with my free hand.

  My body didn’t flinch in pain; it didn’t cry out in agony. No, it wants more! While I pull the sword out from my leg, it makes me grin. My mind races in euphoria, and what I feel isn’t pain but pleasure. An intoxicating frenzy that makes me want more!

  I limp to the man I knocked away, and he raises his hands in horror. A smile etches on my face before I force myself on top of him. Pinning him down with one hand while I repeatedly beat him with the other. His jaw unhinges, teeth fly in every direction, his left eye pops out from his socket and explodes with a well-placed blow. My enjoyment only ends when his skull ruptures and caves in, his brain matter spilling all over the snow in a pool of gore.

  But I am not done, far from it!

  I prowl to the Cinari with their partially face bitten off. They roll on the ground trying to piece together what remains of their facial features. I grab both of their arms and pull them back while I slam one foot on their back. They screech in pain while their muscles and ligaments snap and dislocate, their skin ripping and tearing apart. With a final yank, both of their arms dislodge and rip out from their body. The pathetic creature falls to the ground, his mind blanking out in shock.

  Frustrated, I chuck the arms to the ground to notice my soldiers surrounding my tent. Some are surprised to see the Cinari are this deep in our ranks. They failed me! They got through my sentries!

  ‘What are you looking at!? If they are here, there are bound to be more. Find them!’

  Some Dogs run off, barking orders to begin their search. But it is very clear how they are scared; their eyes tell me as such.

  Jackle walks up to me and hands me a bandage and some medical supplies. His expression is hard to read as always. I snatch it off from him without hesitation before heading into my tent to patch my wounds.

  ‘I’ve checked your Vern, he is still in his cage.’ He calmly says to me.

  I growl, ‘I don’t care about him! How did they get in here?’

  Jackle cocks his crossbow before he heads off to do his own thing. ‘I have a rough idea. But for now, you need to rest. I’ll order some soldiers to protect and patch you up in the meantime.’

  Good, that is the least he can do. But I don’t need sleep, no, I will help my soldiers to hunt whoever might be left in my camp. Right after I collect their syringes and their maps. They might have their camp nearby. However, that blue stuff! Whatever the blue liquid is, they made me feel invincible, stronger even. I’ll keep them, just for myself.

  I unwrap May’s belt buckle from my fist. My heart sinks as I notice a slight dent. It is stained with blood, but that can be washed off. I can’t reshape it. However, I can never. With a wince, I collapse into my chair as the pain from my arm and leg finally catches up to me. My temperature cools, my heart reaches its normal pace. Worse of all, I’m fatigued.

  The strange liquid must’ve worn off, making the spit in my mouth taste like berries for some reason. I search the bodies of the Cinari, taking whatever syringe they have on their person, before I head off to bed.