Diary of Cyfier - Haunted

Being haunted is a strange thing. You never suffer from loneliness, you only crave it.

A decade has passed, maybe more, or less. I know what today is, I just never counted them back in Bree. Back then, there was not time for it, events and seasons moved along with haste. I only wish we all knew the time we had on our hands and how better we could have spent it instead of fighting, killing and murdering one another in a desperate attempt for a meaningless and short lived place at the top, always a criminal underworld reaching for light. So much time wasted and so little left. How do you make up for a lifetime?

A lifetime? A lifetime ago. It all haunts me and those ghosts from the past, they're stronger now more than ever and compelling. All the faces of those I knew haunt me more than those I took life from,  right back to the start.

My oldest, dearest friend. Mae, gone for so long.
To me, she was always the strongest. The bravest, the most care free soul i ever knew. A hero in my eyes. The thought of her once brought a smile. She's long gone and only tears would follow if I allowed the memory to haunt me long enough but again, memory fails but it was In hope of finding her, I found Avasa.

Avasian rule was easy back in the day. The glory days. They move and acted in secret but in plain sight. Legends before they had even passed. I had such a fascination for them and their rule over Breeland. How little bothered them because one way or another, everyone was in their pockets. It just worked. I envied everything about what they built and had, becoming part of them was not enough, I wanted my own house and I didn't care for the lives I destroyed to get that.
I don't recall exactly how they fell or why, they just did. Bree needed to move on and decided they are the dead wood but I was already far, far down the path to allow their misfortune prevent my ambitious thoughts.
The price I payed in blood just for the tools of the trade I recall well enough, the first time I died.

I remember the girl, Emmelin. Sweet as can be and loved by so many. She progressed me well enough but at a price. The great halls of Avasa, I recall. Esclyn and Jack filled my mind with ideas as I joined there ranks. I remember Siward, I remember Eovad, I remember them all because they all haunt me today.
My courtship here brought its own attention. A combination of watchful eyes and the secrets I had held for the highest bidders had drawn even more interest upon me than I cared for. I do not remember how I ended up on the wrong end of a contract. The price was meant to be my head which I traded with Eovad for merely a finger and a small part of my pride, but officially dead for the first time played to its advantages.

I could now stalk the shadows as I wished, pulling strings on those in the light without them knowing how or why their lives altered. I played it well, for a time and yet eventually found little satisfaction from playing in the dark and only speaking with Irrianya.
My return to the now fallen halls with another concept of leadership, The house of Midnight. Built upon the rubble of Avasa, she was grand. The most perfect. our plots, schemes and games infamous. Our currency was informative and that put our foot in every door like Avasa before us. However, Bree needed me to die for her again and so I did.
I remember some book I had gained from some Elf called Loor. Alot of fuss over a book but I killed an elf to get it and slaughtered many more that tried to retrieve it. Some nonsense about it foretelling the arrival of someone and even more puzzles about a coming war and how the people shall be devided and the like. I don't recall where I put the book over the years gone by since but myself and this fortune-telling book of elvish scribbles parted ways with Bree.

Irony haunts me here, I recall my old journals, how I once wrote about a dream. In this dream I would see the fall of The House of Midnight, watched as it decayed into oblivion. At the time, I felt nothing of it. Looking back now, I should have seen its meaning. I went away for to long and nothing was the same as I returned. Nothing atleast, other than Ilaru.

Ilaru is the true face that haunts me today. I loved her more than any other and she tried so hard for me. Even after my return, she tried. I grew tired of the games, how awful I had become. I had reached an age where I was slowing down and my ambition had faded away to make room for affairs of the heart. My history, now so blackened by war, death and the great game still, at the time, had room for another chapter and I wanted it to be her. Alas, history was indeed the problem. Mine, and every moment I spent with her was another moment that someone was getting close to harming her in my name.
A constant stream of pics poor brigands wanted to make a name for themselves was always putting her in danger. I had no choice.
A single, fateful day and a sword through my shoulder, ensured I would see her safe with my leave. The fool that came close was dead but I could not see the same fate for her. I took my wounded body far from her and once again, I died for Bree.

A decade atleast, I have been haunted by my past. I am old, beaten. Tired and destroyed. I have bled, killed and fought until nothing remains to protect those I love from afar. To keep Bree safe from the underground system of Brigands, thieves and politicians that I forged. I have sacrificed myself over and over again, yet so far from the land that I wish for, Bree will not allow me to truly die. I wish for Ilaru each day, I wish for the lake in Far Chetwood where we would meet so often. I wish for all those that have fallen, from Avasa, The House of Midnight and Bree, even those that fell by my daggers, some of which friends. I wish for us to all to come home. To Bree, nor for Bree.
I will make a final journey. And if Breeland should ask me to die for her, Then Bree will have to kill me herself.