We often don’t realize the things we take for granted until they are gone. Until all that's left is a faint memory of what was. We beg and we plead just to experience it again as an all consuming ache fills our chests. Our souls start to scream out to have just one more moment of what we once had. At first we miss the grander things like comfort, warmth, or a gentle tongue to fill the deafening silence. But, over time, as our souls rot from the pain and the discomfort, we find ourselves missing the smaller things in life.

The caress of an afternoon sun on our skin as its light dances between the trees. A breath of wind singing its lively songs. The tickling of grass between our toes as we run through the fields without a care in our minds. Everyone has something different that they miss, that they would sell their souls to experience again. What I miss are the silent moments. Those moments in time where it is just me and the world. When I am perfectly alone, and yet I find that loneliness is not gripping me. Misery does not try to become my friend. It’s just me and the open fields, not a care in my mind. I do not struggle to put on a front of something I am not. There is no demand for me to be someone else. It is a moment of pure peace. 

How I miss the burn of laughter in my lungs and the blinding happiness that used to fill my heart. The pull of a smile on my cheeks. The delirious naivety that nothing bad could ever happen. 

How I wish to feel those things again. To find even the slightest sliver of peace in this hell I am forced to endure. To be able to feel anything other than pain. But I fear those days are long gone. Like most people, I took for granted what I had. In one single moment everything I had, and that I loved, was ripped from my grasp. In that moment I lost who I was.

⧫⧫⧫

I remember the echo of his voice on my bedroom walls. A timbre that would lay chills on your arm and fear in your chest. He was upset at me for stumbling in court. I faintly recall trying to tell him that my pant legs were far too long, but as with most things I spoke, it fell on deaf ears. So I listened to him rant on what a waste I was, and how dare I taint our families appearance with my pathetic display of grace. His anger loomed over me, but still I found myself looking past him to the window. His voice fading to a faint hum in the background. 

There was a gentle breeze that played with the trees that day. It had rained the night before and the smell of wet grass still lingered even though the sun had dried everything out. I remember the birds were out in droves, their songs gracing my ears even through the tirade of my father. 

Finally tired of my presence he cast me out of the castle for the day. What was supposed to be some supreme punishment, was in fact my favorite time of the day. He thought that the lack of cleanliness and comfort of the palace would teach me some profound lesson about being a better prince. In reality the fifteen year old child that I was couldn’t have been happier to be allowed to frolic in the woods. The guards never bothered to follow, so it was just me and the trees. A moment of peace from a world that I had little care for. 

I remember the soft bite of the gravel path on my heels as I walked barefoot through the forest. It was better to walk barefoot than risk getting my shoes dirty. I had made that mistake before and it was not one that I wanted to repeat. At first it was uncomfortable to walk without my shoes, but I had been doing it for so long that it was no longer a thought in my mind. 

I don’t recall what I was thinking about while I walked, just that it had brought a smile to my face. That smile will forever be burned into my memory as the last shred of my naive youth. 

A rustle in the trees stole my attention from whatever it was that I had been thinking about. The small cat emerging from a nearby bush started my childish chase through the woods. It kept to the path at first allowing me to get close enough to barely graze its fur with my hand. As if knowing I was gaining on it, the cat changed direction and took off into the overgrowth. Stupidly thinking myself more agile than I was, I followed. The terrain quickly deteriorated to uneven ground, but I was determined to catch the cat. I followed even as it twisted through the trees, managing to match its pace. Again I found myself close enough to try and grab the cat. Lurching forward I reached out for the small feline. Instead of soft fur I found myself embracing the bite of stone. I twisted sideways in an attempt to stop my fall into the rocks, not bothering to realize I was on the edge of a hill. Newborn trees snapped as I rolled through them. But I was unable to stop myself as I tumbled down the hill.  The rocks bit through my skin as I smashed into them. I felt my bones shatter as I hit one thing after another. Finally my descent ended as I rolled into the creek. The freezing river knocked what little air I had left out of my lungs. Rushing water deafened my ears and for the briefest of moments I felt no pain. That peace quickly disintegrated as the wounds from my fall caught up with me. A cry choked my throat and I rolled over to push myself to my feet.

Applying pressure to my newly broken arm resulted in me falling back into the water, this time face first. I coughed as the water rushed to fill my lungs. Leaning on my other arm in an attempt to brace myself, I tried again to get out of the creek. I stumbled to the shore of the river, each step met with a throbbing ache. Finally out of the water I sank to my knees and gazed upon the hill I had just gracefully descended. 

Tears filled my eyes as every fiber of my being ached and screamed. Sobs choked me and I remember holding my head in my hands and just crying out for help even though there was no one around to hear. Warm blood seeped from the cuts on my hands and mixed with my tears. Its sickly smell of copper filled my nostrils, gagging me.

I remember the exact moment that the smell of copper changed for me. From this thick, sickly smell to the sweet caress of sugars and spices. My whole world spun around me. My soaking wet clothes now much, much heavier than they were before. The roaring creek fading out behind the hum building in my ears. I picked my head up, the mere motion feeling as if it took a millenia. Blinking, I tried to clear the haze from my eyes, but the trees around me refused to come into focus. My heart felt like an echoing drum playing the slowest of beats. 

Looking back down at my hands, I watched as the bloodied cuts turned from a grisly image to the sweetest of temptations. Like a forbidden fruit it held my focus. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from it, and I found my mouth watering. A moment of disgust washed over me that was quickly replaced with a burning and desperate hunger. I felt a fire form behind my eyes as if I had stared at the sun for too long without blinking. And soon I could see nothing else but the blood dripping from my hands. 

My breath came in short pants. Each inhale brought the sweetest and most delectable of smells into my lungs. Like a freshly baked pie resting on a windowsill, ripe for the taking. It was right there and all I needed to do was bring its sweet temptation to my lips. The first taste was a slow and trembling lick. The rich, full taste washing over my tongue, I found myself growling in response as that small lick fueled my need for more. 

Soon I was feverishly lapping up every drop of blood that I could. A sharp pain filled my mouth and I felt my teeth grow in response. Two sharp points now grazing my skin as I continued to frantically lick at the red tantalization coming from my wounds. Little by little the blood slowed but the hunger still clawed at me. Desperate to soothe my hunger I tore into my arm with my teeth, a new wave of blood filled my mouth sending a shiver of relief through me.

I bit and licked until the ache fell into a dull throb. The world around me slowly came back into focus and I found myself utterly disgusted by my actions. I remember the sudden realization that the sun had fallen and the sound of crickets replaced the bird songs. Fear choked me and I knew my father would be outraged that I had stayed out as late as I had. Not only that, I feared his reaction to the multitude of wounds that now marred my skin. Most of which were now self-inflicted. 

Pushing myself to my feet I started my slow trek back to the castle, the ache of my wounds once again finding me. I stifled my cries and shuffled my trembling limbs back home. Every few steps my uneasy limbs gave way and I found myself embracing the ground again. Short cries rang out followed by deep slow breaths as I forced myself to push past my pain and fatigue and get back up. 

Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, I reached the front gates and the guards met my presence with short gasps and darting eyes. One started to come to my aide but the others held him back upon seeing the telling marks in my skin. To them I was no longer their prince. I was a plague. A monstrosity. 

Deep down I knew what they did, that I was no longer the small child fearful of his father’s anger. I’d never get to know the comfort of normality ever again.  Every culture has its own boogeyman, whose stories they tell to their children in order to keep them in line. Be kind. Be respectful. Eat your greens. Listen when your elders talk, or else the boogeyman will find you and Eat... You… Up. But I no longer had to fear the boogeyman, for his wickedness had already found its way into my soul. 

Ashamed and disgusted, I kept my head down and continued inside hoping to find a healer or someone to help ease the pain I was in. In hindsight it was a naive thought. I should have turned around and ran as far as I could. It was stupid of me to think even for a moment that anyone would accept the monster that just walked through their doors. But nonetheless my legs found themselves shuffling forward towards what I prayed was help. 

“Please…” I begged as I approached the medical ward.

The healers turned from their studies and monotonous tasks and gazed upon their prince. I stood before them, hair caked with mud and tousled from my fall. My pants were ripped and stains from blood, dirt and grass etched a concerning pattern into them. My shirt was torn and battered. But nothing was more alarming than the cuts gouged into my palms that slowly turned to deep lacerating bites as they flowed into my wrists and forearms. The telltale signs of a blood mage. The signs of an affliction so rare its only history was what was told as a bedtime story.  Their shocked cries rang out causing tears to well in my eyes. The commotion  brought wandering bodies and soon I was surrounded by disgusted stares.

“What are you waiting for, kill it.”

“Vile creature.”

“I always knew something was wrong with him.”

The murmurs of the palace staff engulfed me as I stood before them trembling from fear and pain. All I can remember thinking was why wouldn’t they help me. But I knew why they wouldn’t. Even I was filled with disgust at myself. 

“What is going on in here!” My father’s voice broke through the crowd.

I remember cowering low as he emerged from the slew of people that had gathered. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him, to see the disgust and hatred that would gleam in his eyes. Tears fell from my cheeks to coat the floor below and for the briefest of moments all I could hear was the soft drip that rippled out as they hit the ground. Mere seconds felt like an eternity and I held my breath awaiting what was to happen next. A small part of me pleaded to the universe to let me wake up from this nightmare. Another part of me begged that if this was truly happening that I would be met with love and acceptance. The universe chose to turn a deaf ear to my pleas.

“Don’t just stand there! Cage it!” His orders echoed off the walls around me. I felt a sharp stab in my neck as they injected me with a powerful tranquilizer. The world faded around me and I collapsed to the floor. The last thing I remember was the sight of his boots exiting the room and the faintest of commands being given to the guards.

“Give him to the Forsaken, tell them he is a gift and to do with it as they please.”