u/fallensunargow

Prologue

Apollo. The carcajou. Strong enough to fight to the death. But I have nothing.

I was sitting on the ground. My arms hung around my body. They coiled around me like tentacles. My own shadow looked at me. I was not well.

I am sixteen.

I am enraged. Frozen. I kill.

I feel my hands tear at my wrists. My heart sways to the rhythm of cracking branches. My steps crunch on soft ground.

A field of corpses.

I lower my eyes to see better in this deep darkness. My eyes burn. My breath shatters against the sails of a torn sea.

I see the darkness. Its depth. My shadow moves with the wind. The sun stares at me with red eyes.

So I am terrified, hm? Who did this to me?

It hurts. Like a spear driving through the mouth of a carcajou.

That smile on a corpse had no equivalent. I have seen death more times on the faces of the living. But life on the face of a dead man.

I step forward. My leg lands on the head of a young man.

It is me.

I see my dead eyes staring back at me. My torn heart lies beside this corpse. My head rests on a golden lily, my shoulders on a bed of flowers. My legs and arms keep moving as if the walk were not finished. From my ears seeps yellow blood. The only thing that has not changed is my hair. It is still dull and dirty.

I am no longer human. I am filthy, that is all and… I cannot change. Or at least… not now. I stay.

I leave.

You are here. Aren't you? You looked at me. I love you, you know. I died and you smiled at me. You gave me the most beautiful gift but…

I feel a hand on my shoulder. Cold. Viscous.

I know only one person willing to touch me. Corrupted or alive.

My visūrjā doesn't like you either.

I see you. Blonde woman. You smile at my provocations. I feel your corruption.

I hate you. You knew I would suffer and you let me live. To live the war. To dance with death.

I must live to remain standing, here.

I feel a light breeze blow between my fingers. The light warms my heart or… it immolates me.

I stare at a point of light on the horizon. I was born alone and I will die alone. You see this eye of the storm — I hate it. It shows me that fate exists. That it is waiting for me. I don't want…

Then I saw his…ey…es

I am Apoll…o

I am Apo…

I am…A

I…

…

Sun Shadow
 
I was alone. Nobody wanted me. I am an orphan. Between you and me, I hate myself. I don't know how to live. I see them, the others. But me. I am nothing but a predator. The carcajou. Strong enough to fight to the death. But I have nothing.
 
I was sitting on the ground. My arms hung around my body. They coiled around me like tentacles. My own shadow looked at me. I was not well.
 
I am sixteen.
 
I am enraged. Frozen. My cold blood has always been my strength — at least when I am in control. In truth, I kill because it is the only way I have found to survive without suffering immediately.
 
I feel my hands tear at my wrists. My heart sways to the rhythm of cracking branches. My steps crunch on soft ground.
 
A field of corpses.
 
I lower my eyes to see better in this deep darkness. My eyes burn. My breath shatters against the sails of a torn sea.
 
I see the darkness. Its depth. My shadow moves with the wind. The sun stares at me with red eyes.
 
So I am terrified, hm? Who did this to me?
 
It hurts. Like a spear driving through the mouth of a carcajou.
 
That smile on a corpse had no equivalent. I have seen death more times on the faces of the living. But life on the face of a dead man.
 
I step forward. My leg lands on the head of a young man.
 
It is me.
 
I see my dead eyes staring back at me. My torn heart lies beside this corpse. My head rests on a golden lily, my shoulders on a bed of flowers. My legs and arms keep moving as if the walk were not finished. From my ears seeps yellow blood. The only thing that has not changed is my hair. It is still dull and dirty.
 
I am no longer human. I am filthy, that is all and… I cannot change. Or at least… not now. I stay.
 
I leave.
 
You are here. Aren't you? You looked at me. I love you, you know. I died and you smiled at me. You gave me the most beautiful gift but…
 
I feel a hand on my shoulder. Cold. Viscous.
 
I know only one person willing to touch me. Corrupted or alive.
 
My visūrjā doesn't like you either.
 
I see you. Blonde woman. You smile at my provocations. I feel your corruption.
 
I hate you. You knew I would suffer and you let me live. To live the war. To dance with death.
 
I must live to remain standing, here.
 
I feel a light breeze blow between my fingers. The light warms my heart or… it immolates me.
 
I stare at a point of light on the horizon. I was born alone and I will die alone. You see this eye of the storm — I hate it. It shows me that fate exists. That it is waiting for me. I don't want…
 
Then I saw his…ey…es
 
I am Apoll…o
 
I am Apo…
 
I am…A
 
I…
 
…