A week later
"But the sand scares me! I don't want to play!" The small child yells, on the verge of tears. Cordwyn has taken up some small gigs to make some money on his journey, sadly, one of them was… Dealing with a child. "Child, I- Uhg- How about I tell you a story instead? One that might help soothe your nerves?" Cordwyn said, exhausted from dealing with the kid. The child's mood perked up a bit, "A story about what?" The child looked curious, though still skeptical. "Come, let's walk. I'll tell you." Cordwyn spoke with elegance, but yet, there was a tone of pain and sorrow behind his voice. The child held out his hand, insinuating that he wanted Cordwyn to hold it. And so he did. The brand from a week ago is still very much visible, and still burning. He did not know what it was for, or why that woman gave it to him. Cordwyn and the child started walking. "Let me tell you a story of a man who met death." He said with a light tone. "I don't like scary stories!" The child pouted. "It's not scary, I promise, just listen for a minute." "Okay… I'll listen." The child said wearily. "Long, Long ago, there was a blacksmith who made, sharpened, and upgraded weapons, and things of the such. And one day, while he was stoking the flame of his forge, Death appeared to the man. Death approached the man and held his scythe out for the man to grab. Would you be the one to accept my request? To sharpen my scythe? Death asked. The man, being scared because death is right in front of him, asked, It's my time to go? The man questioned, but with his hands shaking, he grabbed the handle of the scythe. No, it is not your time yet. This is just a humble request from one to another. said Death. The smith started sharpening its blade, marveling at the make of the scythe. I don't know whether to be honored, or scared that I am holding a blade that has killed so many… The man handed the blade back to Death. This blade has not killed anyone, not even harmed a soul. Death starts to walk away into the forest. The man stared as Death walked away. Then why even carry such a blade? The smith inquired, wondering what a weapon that doesn't kill is for. Death kept walking for a few seconds before stopping and turning to the smith slightly. The… The road to salvation is long, long overgrown with grass… After that, death walked away." Cordwyn's voice was shaky, and quiet, and so was the child. They both walk to the child's home, and the mother walks out and takes the child inside the home. The mother comes back out and talks to Cordwyn. "Do you have a place to stay, sir? It will be raining heavily soon, so you'll need a place to stay." The woman says in a concerned voice. "I could never accept, ma'am, but thank you for the gracious offer!" Cordwyn nods his head, knowing that it would be nice to sleep on a bed, or couch at least. It'd be better than sleeping in the rain and snow as he's been doing. But he didn't. Why? Not even he knew himself. He did not continue the conversation, he simply turned away and left.
Hours later
He awoke from a restless sleep, and dreamless slumber, his arm ached, the brand burned more than usual. He stood up from underneath the large, hanging tree. The moon was alight, bright and so very beautiful. He knew there was more beyond this world. Beyond this solar system. Beyond this galaxy. Beyond this universe. There were so many more universes for him to explore, so many new people to meet. He outstretched his arm toward the moon, marveling in its beauty. The brand on his arm burned, almost warning him of something. As if on cue, a voice called out to him. "There! Apostasy!" Cordwyn turned around, and saw two men, walking toward him from behind the tree. They both are carrying weapons of sorts, not an elegant sword, or mighty hammer, but some version of a laser blaster. Cordwyn, being of a more gentle nature, uses a long, thin blade he calls the "M'lady". He unsheathed his sword with his only arm, though he is defenseless on his left, if he stayed in good spacing, and on his right, he'd theoretically be fine. He got into as best a stance he could with one arm. As he goes to strike, a bag gets thrown over his head from behind, trying to seize control over him. Cordwyn fought and fought, but to no avail. That was up until he heard this; "Take him to the bunker, then after we're done with him, we'll take his mother next." Something in him snapped, the brand burned as hot as a star, and he was not him anymore. The massacre that happened below that tree, will stay below that tree. He got up from kneeling and heard a voice, similar to his, but more conniving. "Well, haven't you finally woke up?" He looked at the voice, it was almost exactly him, but older, more battle worn, more malicious. "You have about five minutes before we start fusing together again, and after that you will be writhing in pain. So any questions you have, ask now." He said, every time he spoke, the brand burned. "W-Who and what are you?" Cordwyn said in a shaky voice. "I'm you. Well, I am someone else in your body, and I will ruin your life every time you call upon me. I will speak in your head, split your mind into two, make you feel not yourself. I hope you will have fun. I know I did. Oh and by the way, I'm Oceiros. See ya." And just as he appeared, Oceiros was gone. Cordwyn cradled himself on the ground in a fetal position, rocking back and forth with tears streaming down his face. "No… please no… I don't want to relive through this, not again…" As he was weeping uncontrollably upon the ground, a woman was walking up the cliff and saw him. With three corpses in different places. The woman slowly approached him, kneeled down and laid her hand on his forehead. It was burning hot, she looked around at the corpses, and hesitated. She then picked him up as best she could, and took him down the hill to a decently sized house with two stories. She entered and sat him on the couch letting him rest peacefully.
2 Days Later
The morning light tore through the window curtains, and hit Cordwyn in the eyes. He tried raising his left arm to block the rays of light, but failed due to… Well, the lack of an arm to raise. He heard footsteps to his right, and saw the woman moving a chair to sit down beside him. She had long, flowing blonde hair, and bright blue eyes. She sat in a chair across from him and smiled. Cordwyn tried to sit up, but had failed to realize that he had multiple tight chains and tape around his chest, arm, and legs. "...Care to explain madam?" Cordwyn asked in an annoyed tone. "Ask any person who found someone surrounded by three dead bodies to not be cautious when nursing them back to health. Now, time to eat!" She held up a small bowl filled with soup. "I can't grab it, my arm is chained up." Cordwyn said, almost near a yell from his annoyance. "I know. So, open wide!" The woman holds up a spoonful of soup to his mouth, almost waving it. "No. I will not let a woman feed me like an infant that cries for their mother!" He yells, wanting to keep his dignity. "You weren't crying for your mother, but you were crying on the ground like an infant, now, open your mouth, here comes the airplane!" She says with that bright smile on her face. "Get anywhere near me and I will personally make sure you can't eat solid foods anymore, woman!" She finally sticks the spoon into his mouth, and she then continues to feed him. After she finishes feeding him, she unchains him and takes the tape off of him. "You are very trusting for someone who got threatened with, I will make sure you can't eat solid foods anymore." He says as he puts his tailcoat on. "Oh, we both know you're too nice to do that to me!" She beams out confidence like she knows he wouldn't. But she was right. He would never do something like that to an innocent person. "What's your name, little lady?" He said after he sighed and rubbed his eyes. "My name is Corhyn, I used to be part of the first generation city-folk." The first generation city-folk? That means she witnessed the greatest events and people of all time! "Hmm, you remind me of someone!" She yelled. "And who might that be?". "You remind me of one the greatest people to ever live, in all of time, a name only to be said with as much fervor as possible… He was called Gwyn."