Italy, 1348
The fires burned with a relentless passion; a hunger that consumed the tiny hamlet with great licking flames. Smoke choked the night sky and blotted out the insignificant stars that, only days ago, had meant so much. I could hear the screams of the few living, awoken from dreams of agonizing death to find it upon them in another guise. The smell of death, pestilence and burning flesh assaulted my nostrils as I inhaled deeply. My lips curled up slowly in a smile that caught me by surprise. Their deaths, their screams, their pain filled the hole within my chest; its raw, burning edges placated by the atrocity I had committed.
This is what I was.
I let my eyes drift shut as I listened to the music of their suffering. Behind my lids I saw her face, her smile, her honey colored eyes as she looked up from her loom. It was too much. The scream tore from my throat as an explosion rocked the little town and the fire grew in intensity, its long burning fingers reaching out towards the surrounding trees. I called upon all the strength within my ancient body, summoning the wind to aid me in my destruction. I would burn the entire continent, the world, if it would soothe the ache of her passing.
I felt it now…
I understood...
This is what it meant to be Forsaken.
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