When I was young, I had a dream. No, it was much more than that. It was a prophecy, a vision, a premonition of things to come.
I recall it vividly—my dream of the war. I knew not why I fought, but as I did, I felt fulfilled. As if my life had been given purpose.
I knew it wasn't real, yet its intensity left me disoriented. I could smell the acrid tang of burnt flesh across endless fields. I felt every sensation: the sting of my wounds, the weight of the blade in my hand, and the rush of blood down my face.
Everywhere I looked, bodies fell to the ground. Terror gripped me, and though I tried to close my eyes, the man in my vision pressed on with a courage I could not muster. No, it was not mere bravery, but a deep, pained resolve. His heart was heavy with horror, yet he fought on.
The battle seemed to rage on for all eternity, my nightmare unending. And as time passed, I slowly forgot who I was, catching glimpses of his life
The causes of his pain, his rage and worst of all, the sadness he felt when someone he cared for fell.
Yet, he fought relentlessly, that was until the moment he saw her collapse. Crying out her name, he dropped his weapon and rushed to her side, dashing into blades that tore his flesh, causing pain that bordered on madness.
The man wept, not for his own injuries nor for the countless fallen soldiers, but solely for her. His eyes burned with tears as he cradled her; she smiled gently and caressed his face. As her hand fell , her pain ceased. Gazing deep into her crimson eyes, dimming with every heartbeat. He vowed,
"Eris, my love, I promise that in time it will all be over. In time, I will end this."
I awoke from the nightmare screaming, my body feeling pain from what now felt like imaginary blades.
I could still feel her in my arms. Looking down, I saw nothing, yet my gaze remained fixed, as if a void had carved itself into my heart, pulling me inward. Numb to sound and sensation, I screamed incoherently, crying her name.
"Eris! Eris!"
A hand brushed my face. I looked up to see Lana, my sister, tears streaming as she struggled to speak yet failing to form words. She embraced me tightly, and with that, I fully awoke.
Gently, I placed my hand on Lana's head and murmured, "Lana, I'm alright." Her smile flickered before she sank beside me. I caressed her long, black hair, and her smile returned. Sitting up, I fixed my eyes on a painting of a red-haired woman hanging above my bed—a striking contrast to the rest of the room. "Isn't it beautiful?" I remarked. Lana nodded.
"I'm thinking of visiting Shaun today. It's been ages since we last saw him, hasn't it?"
I expected her agreement, yet her attention was elsewhere. Her gaze was fixed on the portrait, her face blank and devoid of emotion.
Ever since father died, she'd become silent, spending her days lost in thought. In the beginning, it terrified me, I would rush to hold her, fearing the loss of the one person who mattered most. But as the years passed, I learned to simply watch her.
––––––
My sister and I lived in Aeschylus, often called "the land of shame." When this kingdom was founded, it reigned as the most powerful in the south. Its people, of resolute mind, worshipped a single god. So naturally, they defied the emperor's holy war of unification.
Convinced that their god would deliver them, the people refused to bow to the emperor. In his wrath, he razed their temples, crucified their priests and murdered their king. At the center of the ruined capital, he erected a statue of himself standing atop the severed head of their deity. And renaming the once-noble land Aeschylus—"the land of shame," "the land of the poor," "the land of exile."
––––––
When I arrived at work, the boss was waiting outside the workshop, leaning casually against the wooden door. Seeing me, he swiftly removed his apron, a relic scarred by decades of toil, which he often said he'd replace but never did. It was obvious it had some sentimental value. He tucked it away into his pocket as he called out to me
"Boy, I've got quite the job for you," he said. "A group of soldiers, or rather, ex-soldiers has placed an order for 150 swords, 50 guns, and ten cases of ammunition."
I replied, "Soldiers? Come on, boss, let's call them what they truly are, they're bandits."
He grinned. "It doesn't matter. They want guns, so we give them guns. And if they're really bandits, we offload them to the cops for extra cash." He paused. "They even paid in advance."
I laughed. "And where do you think a group of ex-soldiers gets the money to pay in advance?"
"I don't care."
He chuckled and began to walk away, throwing a smile my way as he entered the pub near the workshop.
That day, I finished work early so I could visit Shaun, the "seer of Aeschylus" as the people often called him. When he first arrived, the people, mistaking him for a great sage, flocked to him, imploring him to reveal their futures. Over time, however, his prophecies were dismissed as charlatan tricks.
When Lana and I first arrived, he helped us greatly. So occasionally, I would visit him with a bottle of whisky.
His home was perched on a hill to the west of the city, beside a cemetery. That day, when I arrived at his home, he was standing outside.
I approached him and he greeted me with a warm smile, "Miroslav, I've been expecting you."
His smile, etched deeply into his weathered face, evoked memories of our shared past. I returned the smile.
"It's been a while."
I lifted the bottle, he smiled and beckoned me inside.
Inside, as I began searching for cups, he seized me and guided me to a seat. Gazing into my eyes, he began to speak
"Miroslav, do you know who I was before I came here?"
I shook my head.
"I was a seer, revered and celebrated. I lived a life worthy of the greatest kings."
I laughed, then looked up to find his expression unyieldingly serious. Still thinking he was jesting, I smiled and spoke, deciding to humour him ,
"Then why are you here?"
"Because I despised it."
"Despised what?"
"Everything. Every peasant that approached me, hoping to achieve greatness, and the damn nobles sought to possess me to fulfill their ambitions."
He chuckled, retrieved the bottle, uncorked it, and took a long drink, "But do you know what I despised most?"
"what?," I replied
"The way people congratulated me. How they'd tell me I was so lucky."
"Weren't you?"
"It wasn't luck. From the moment I was born, I saw it all: my first prophecy, my first love, everything was laid out before me. So no matter how much I succeeded, it meant nothing."
His unnervingly calm tone startled me. Although I had known Shaun for years, I had never seen him so grave. Lowering his gaze, he murmured, "I once tried…"
"Tried what?", I asked
"To run away of course… to escape my destiny."
He drank deeply and then said, "Isn't it ironic, I can change the futures of others yet I can't change mine."
I looked into his eyes, I couldn't imagine the pain he was feeling, having so much power yet being so powerless
Setting aside the bottle he looked at me and said, "But it all ends today."
"What do you mean?" I asked.
"I can't see my tomorrow."
Gazing into my eyes, he smiled softly, "Miroslav, today is the day, the day I die."
My breathing quickened as I looked at him. He poured me a drink, reclined in his chair, and said, "Don't be sorrowful, kid. This isn't a tragedy; it's a blessing. All my life, I've felt exploited and manipulated, but today…"
He took a deep breath. "Today, I'll be free. But we aren't here to talk about me, we're here for you, your future."
"My future?"
I was scared, Shaun said he was going to die, yet my fear was overcome by my curiosity. Probably because I thought he was just joking.
He took a drink, then he replied, "Your future, the reason I persist. Just thinking about it excites me."
"All futures can be changed, granted some are easier to change than others. But yours, yours is so amazing, it's kinda ridiculous, every choice you make actively changes your future."
His eyes sparkled with fervor as he spoke, and I asked, "What does my future hold?"
When I asked this, his expression went blank. The bottle slipped from his grasp and shattered on the floor. Regaining composure, he murmured, "Unlike others, you are unshackled, totally free. Yet freedom comes at a steep price. In the countless futures I've seen, your life is marred by endless suffering, devoid of joy, a tapestry woven with pain and regret. That is why I've waited for this day."
He slid a blade toward me, our eyes locking as he whispered,
"Miroslav, please, end your life."