All That Remains of Me

The ogre's answer almost drops my guard.

"T-that's preposterous! I'm meant to be human, not a Sintouched freak!"

"You're right. You're human and always will be."

"W-what are you trying to insinuate? None of us are human anymore. Can't you see with your eyes? The only hope left within this damned world is to somehow be Reformed!"

His expression drops as he lets out a guttural growl.

"Reformed?! We're more human than the Reformed can ever be! If you've ever met one, you should know that they're barely alive."

My hands tremble as I think back to all those celebrations to refute his claim. Each Reformed was cordial and smiled when recounting their experiences. However, the more I remember, the more I start to find doubts.

"Surely you must've seen it," the ogre says. "That blankness in their eyes. That sense that they never seemed quite right. They're nothing more than hollow shells!"

"Damn it, you're just trying to mess with me, aren't you?"

"I gain nothing by deceiving you. Those Reformed weren't saved from a curse, they were wiped of their souls. And you don't need to trust me to know this is true, you must've have seen the wording yourself within the Althea: 'seal your god-given pain, not 'cure.'"

I want to deny his claims with every fiber that I am, yet I can glean no deceit in his tone. Instead, as much as I'm afraid to admit it, he has said nothing wrong. And if he's telling the truth, then that could only mean…

My knees buckle as the dam finally breaks.

Damn it all! It hurts so much! Not the 'curse' within my heart, but the pain of knowing that it was all just a lie. The cure, the hope that it gave me, they were nothing more than delusions. Why did I sacrifice so much? Why did I waste my entire life chasing a dream that could never be mine? Why am I an abomination, all because of some stupid affliction that I was born with?!

Tears stream down my face as decades of torment ravage my heart. I hate myself for thinking I could ever find a place in this world.

"!" Suddenly I feel the ogre dispelling my bonds, dropping my limbs and weapon to the floor. A storm still rages in his eyes, but there's a calmness to his movements as if channeling that energy toward something else.

"We can do nothing to restore your place amongst the world, paladin. However… while it will not be easy, you may find peace here within the Dire if you would wish."

I watch him conjure a projection of mist to show an impossibility—Sintouched living together in this hell. There is no wanton violence that I've been taught to expect; neither is there cruelty or savagery in their eyes. They toil, farm, teach, and vend as if there is nothing wrong with their station.

"So, what do you say?" The ogre asks, extending me one of his four hands. "We could use someone with your power and heart."

I'm unable to say anything as the possibility sinks in. Could I really find a purpose here, even when my family, friends, and the world itself have rejected my sin?

I find myself reaching for him, tempted by a hope for a better life, but no matter how hard I want to take his hand—

*ba-dump, ba-dump, ba-dump*

—I can't.

My head spins as I scramble out of the room and drop everything I have.

Why are you running? You could finally have a place to belong.

I shake my head fervently while searching for an exit.

'No! Those must have been fabrications.'

Or maybe you're just denying it for no good reason. It may not be what you once desired or as the person you wished to be, but you can still find acceptance here. You saw it with your own eyes. Did you not want to live free?

I grit my teeth and shut the insinuation from my thoughts.

After several dead ends and a near encounter with an elderly orc with a cane, I eventually stumble outside into the late morning sun. A single path leads down the hill and into the forest where the settlement seems to be, though I ignore it and instead charge into the underbrush. I have no goal at this point except to run and never let anyone find me.

The thorns of the briar cut into my flesh, jagged stones pierce my feet, and branches tear at my skin, but I keep pushing forward. Only when the last of my strength fades from my limbs, do I collapse and roll over by the bank of a dirty river.

Unable to do anything else, I stare at my reflection in between sobs that wrack my lungs. I don't want to believe this, to accept this wickedness, even when deep down I know that it's better than the void that would be left in its absence. I gingerly run my palms along my twisted face, as if reality would suddenly come crashing down again the moment that I stop hating its form.

I remember my younger self, how she used to dream of being a hero that could bring a smile to everyone. What would she think of me now?

That you're still a hero.

My heart clenches at the thought.

'Would she really think that now that I'm a monster?'

It hasn't changed all that you've done for this world. Has it?

I stew in the question and wrestle with how to feel until I hear the rustle of leaves.

"You really gave Inigo a hard time, didn't you?"

Someone's presence enters the space next to me—the same grey-haired orc from earlier. She squats down in the dirt and looks over my form, yet despite my apprehension, I don't have the energy to resist whatever she has in store.

"Why have you brought me here?" I defiantly mutter, still staring at my distorted reflection in the river. "To enslave me, convert me? If you have, I'll warn you that I won't go easily."

She shakes her head before tapping her cane against my back, sending healing magic flowing through me.

"None of those reasons. We only wish to grant you a choice that you've been denied your entire life."

The wind shifts above us as the sting of my wounds begins to close.

"Why should I trust you?"

"Why should you trust anyone?"

"…What kind of choice would that be?"

"A difficult one. Countless who have taken it have been slain, while others have been forced into thankless survival, toiling away just to prove that they should exist."

"Sounds horrible."

A chuckle escapes the orc with a smile. "It can very well be, but it's a risk that most are willing to take in lieu of the alternative."

"…What is the choice then?"

"Would you like to start living?"

I can give no answer as the question echoes over and over in my head like the ripples downstream.

"It's fine if you don't know your answer right now," the orc says as she settles in on a stump nearby. "Many take a while to find it and some never do."

For a moment we exist wordlessly within the Dire, listening to the flow of water and the passage of time. Eventually though she clears her throat to speak again.

"Apologies, but I realized. May I ask for your name?"

I examine her pensively until I settle on a response.

"…Just Adira."