One world. You were born in this one world, full of death, decay, and war… and unless you want to die, you must fight.
Such a mantra was the only thing that kept me alive—or at least, it would have been, if I were strong enough. But I needed my men, my magic, and my sword. Those things gave me a power beyond... power. Never mind that; the only thing that mattered was the war, right? Yes. The fight. There can be nothing else, except my master... he was wise beyond time, yet so alive, as if everything amazed him, though he never showed it. He was a librarian who held knowledge above all. When I was young, he made me listen to the whispers of our world, even when it made me scream.
I DID NOT WANT TO KNOW.
All he would say was: "Knowledge grants us the power to stop the pain and suffering of our people, of our planet. So, in a way, you are taking the pain of the world on your shoulders so the rest can rest. You will carry it because a titan is the only one who can."
…What could I say? That I was just a girl! A CHILD, no stronger than anyone else. But he was smarter than me, or at least, that was what I thought. He stole me from everything. Back then, I thanked him for it. Even then, I bore the burden of life. In my village, we were slaves. They took whatever they wanted, especially from us, since we had nothing. Poor, useless farmers hiding in the desert. I never knew why we lived out there. The dust clung to your skin, to your hair. My mother would shave our heads regularly, just so it was one less thing to clean. I always remembered the blade as it tore away my hair, shaving away my soul until it, too, was bald. But my mother's loving hand kept me from ever uttering a word against it. How could I ever, when it was… practical? My father… he just tried to create a life, to steal something from the earth to give to the lords. But we were not made for… farming, to say the least. Living by trading dust for scrap.
It was that day in the market that started the fire that would burn me to ash. It smelled like hell as everyone yelled and screamed, giving away whatever they had to them—the kings and nobles of our land. But what I hated the most were the children, the noble brats who played in the market square. Their actions, at their core, were useless. They just threw a ball from side to side. They even proved that their thoughts were useless as they debated whose house was bigger. The hate burned like a volcano, but it was nothing. So I buried it, channeling it into the saleswoman in me. Just when I thought I had a customer…
Every living thing fell silent. Even the air held itself still as the world I knew shook with the steps of a giant. Thonk, the tax collector for our reigning lord. His presence took priority every time I saw him; it was even more important than my very life. The weight on my chest collapsed my lungs. It was a feeling I was used to—the faint fear of wills above my own, crushing me to dust, the same worthless dust I called flour. It could be traded for less than nothing, despite being everything we had, so I held onto it. Every moment, until he stopped, was agony. Now, the problem was where he stopped: right in front of me.
"Sulfur Sholl, where's your family?"
"T-they're at the f-f-farm, sire," I stammered.
"That is not a farm, as it makes nothing of worth. Your family has given no true tax since your dead weight came to us, seeking protection. So I must take what we are owed by force."
What more could he take? That was the last thought I had until he reached down to raise me off the ground. There, I knew I was the tax. So I did what anyone would have done: I struggled, trying to shake everything until it was gone. But I was too weak. I struggled until one thought came into my head:
You're going to become a cautionary tale. One for the poor and weak. To keep them in line.
That was all it took for me to lose it all. No hope. No future… but then I heard it. A voice like the sands of time itself, wiser than anything I had heard before.
Who are you to die, child? In the dust and the pain, you are something more? So now reach out and take it. The power that was always yours.
There, in that moment, I felt something in my hand that wasn't there before. It was a black stone. It was soft, like the sea itself had polished it. Once I knew it was there, I felt it: the flow, the power that formed the cycle in me. It went from me to the stone, back to me. The cycle beat to the speed of my heart. It felt powerful as it got faster. So, in that moment, all it took was a swing of my 10-year-old hand. And Thonk, the tax collector, was now Thonk, the bloody stain on the wall. As I fell to the ground, all I felt was a wetness that chilled my scalp as I was covered in it.
Excitement hit me first. I was free. I had done it. But as quickly as it rose, it turned to ash. I opened my eyes to red—blood, guts, and pain. The sand clung to me, turning me into a red monster, a story to scare children, a warning of uncontrolled rage. What else could I do but cry? I wailed into the sky, hating what I'd become.
Then, through my tears, I heard the sound I would soon know too well: the march of men and horses. I looked up from my mess and saw them. An army of a thousand. Their steps made Thonk seem small. Leading them was a man in black and gold, towering on horseback.
As they approached, I froze. A shadow swallowed me whole. When they were five feet away, the cloaked man raised his hand, and the army stopped. He dismounted and walked over, picking up the stone I had dropped, turning it over in his hands like a toy. What is this thing? Is he even human?
He knelt in front of me. His eyes, blue, pulled me into his world. His voice was calm, old, and strong. He reached out, putting a gentle hand on my head. The pain didn't matter anymore. To him, I was just a child who needed help.
"Lead me to your home, child. I need to speak to your parents. Your future is bright."
There he stood, hand outstretched, ready to lift me from what I was into what I was bound to become. As he lifted me up, all I felt was the coolness of his skin. That was impossible in the desert, but soon such things would become common to me. He held my hand, pulling me until we reached where I was selling my wares. His eyes glazed over, looking at it.
"How much do you charge for this, child?" he asked.
"Ah, 2 copper a pound," I said.
He grimaced and pressed a gold coin into my hand. Then once again pulled me away, leaving all of my… flour behind. His army, as we walked away, moved throughout the village. They went door to door. Some people greeted them with kisses, joy, and the hope that things might be better. The others were silent, fearing the force of higher wills, I guess. But I was just terrified. What does this man want from me? I have nothing to give. I fell silent, my thoughts slipping into numbness. I kept my eyes down. Soon we arrived at home. There, a man with a body like bamboo perked up. When my father saw me standing there, he knew by the smell of what covered my skin.
"What happened, Sulfur? Are you okay? Who did this to you?"
Every bone in his body shook. He feared more than anything that he had lost his only daughter. He took me into his arms. I barely heard him whisper his comforts. The silence still gripped my being. I am not there. Only Father could save me now. With his child in his arms, he looked up to see the man—one of the few free-living things on this planet. Despite this, he was just a man in a cloak.
"Your child suffered today. Bring her inside. I will talk to your wife."
My father said nothing, as there was nothing to be said against this. Stepping into the barn we called a home, my father took me to a corner with some hay piled up. This was my bed. He lay me down softly, burying my body in the hay to keep me warm, giving me the only thing he had: his love, as he kissed my sand-covered forehead. Only then did I find a moment of peace, losing myself to the exhaustion of it all. Sleeping is difficult after a painful experience like killing, but this one was effortless as I drifted into nothingness. Until I felt… elsewhere. When I opened my eyes, I saw nothing but blackness. What I heard was what scared me: the sound of grit on metal, the sound of demons building hell, forging their weapons in fire, metal, and fear. Even as I stood, my sight remained hindered. All I could do was follow the sound.
"Is anyone there?" I asked.
"No."
The voice was lonely; it was feminine. She almost convinced me she was no one.
"Can you turn on the lights?… I can't see?" I said.
"No…"
Inching closer to the sounds, I took another step. The metal sound got louder and harsher. The voice got quieter until there was only the rage as metal shreds and teeth gnashing—the sound of corruption and torture. It went on for a long time until I opened my eyes and saw the grass, so tall I was consumed by it. Pushed and pulled through the belly of the beast, I was being worked by its digestion, pushed towards the unseen.
"…Are you still there?"
"No. No. No. No."
The sounds of the grasslands were muted, taken by the moment. I walked. The sounds of nature were replaced with her. Like the wind, all I heard was: "No….no…no.no..no….. no…no." She spoke with the voice of nature. The grass followed her call. Everything moved in unison until I found her. She towered over me—a woman whose eyes flashed green and voice flashed a ghostly white. As soon as I got close, she stared into me, seeing everything that I am. She knows me; she knows what I am going to do, even though I don't. She was there when I was born. She will be there when I die. I felt this without understanding. With everything I felt, what came next terrified me. Her face tore itself in half, and from that wound, she began to cry. The wound was deep as water and sound came out of it. Tears not of sorrow, but of something more powerful. She hated me. Her once smooth, sad voice turned to yells and shrieks. Agony. She was in agony. That was the sound of metal. Between "no"s, she was screaming so harshly it wasn't human. From there, her hands were swift. Pain tightened my throat, and my head throbbed as I rose from the ground. All I could see was her ground-up face, red like everything else, as she tightened to a final SNAP.