((some backstory of Quel for those who are intrested, I got inspired))
Pain is an experience by itself.
An experience the body never forgets.
An experience the mind never forgets...
You can get used to pain, but you never forget it...
The steel in the flesh... The burning coils on your skin... The loss of what was dear to you...
And the worst kind of pain... is the one that your body can ignore, but your heart can't. The one that you feel like tearing through your own guts to take away.
Was that the kind of pain I wanted ?
My father... my father made it clear. I shouldn't fear pain. Pain would make it stronger he said...
I remember everything... I can't forget. He carved those memories in the back of my head, so I could never forget them.
I was young, far too young when he put a sword in my hands. I could barely lift it. Less over defend myself with it. I am standing in front of my father, the monster he was. I was sweating, bleeding, my eyes were red and full of tears. I was calling to my mother ; she looked away. I couldn't tell if she didn't want her child suffer.
Or if she was ashamed that her child couldn't yet raise his weapon against his father.
Every day, training... every single day... day and night lost their meaning to me. The training was unbearable. I felt the life feeble inside of me. I was going to die at any moment.
But that moment never came. My father made himself sure that I wouldn't die so my hell could go along for a couple more weeks, that became months, that became years...
My mother tended to my wounds, but never offered me a smile. She would answer only the questions she thought were essential for me to know. My mother was a strong woman, very strong... I could see it in her eyes ; she wanted a daughter, not a son. That was the reason she didn't even bother training me herself.
On the other hand. My father... was a monster.
I learned my roots... a family of fighters... a family of warriors... a family that dedicated everything to the pursuit of strenght, technique, power... All in service of the clan. All in the service of the Ilharess..
We were special, we had something that none other had...
I was sent in the army, I was sent on the front lines, I was sent in the defense force...
I wish I could say that was the end of it. But to my father's eyes. What so many people soughted or feared, was barely training. A way to spend my time when he wasn't around.
It didn't matter how tired I was.
It didn't matter how wounded I was.
Everytime he would make me train more... Fighting.... Technique... Tyr'Ay, weapons, mana, everything at once...
I was getting stronger.
I was getting tougher.
I was getting the assassin my father wanted me to be.
And yet, I was still trash to his eyes.
And my mother would never say an unecessary word like : congratulation, or I am disappointed.
Things didn't make sense.
But franckfully, I didn't have time to question it. Every time I could breath and try to think of it, a couple of more years had passed.
I met people.
I fought alongside them, like battle-brothers.
And yet, we were of a different world.
They had something to protect. Was it friend, was it mate, was it children or family.
I wanted to kill my father.
That's what pushed me forward.
So much that one day, I actually tried it.
He made quite sure that I will always remember him, taking my right eye.
I couldn't become strong enough, it wasn't even a fight.
This man could not be killed.
I hated him, hated him with all my guts. With each passing day from now on, my hatred for him grew stronger, and stronger. With each passing day, the intrest my mother had for me grew stronger and stronger. She was giving me tips, advice, council. She started congratulating me, she started acting like a mother....
She died not too long after.
I was left alone with my father. Our training sessions shook the ground of the underworld. Both of us being powerful earth sorcerers, we left permanent marks of our combats in the earth.
I couldn't kill him.
It didn't matter how much I trained. He was always over me, he was always the strongest. Hatred was all what I had left. I became a beast. I didn't need him anymore to train. I was training on my own, even harder than he used to make me train. Day and night, without sleeping, without eating. I didn't care, I didn't even notice.
Hatred was my food, my energy.
Irony is a cruel master.
When I came back home one day, he was there, crushed under a pile of stone, giving his last breaths.
And for the first time, he smiled at me.
The rest of the house collapsed.
And hatred was gone... the only feeling left, was a deep feeling of emptyness. I was now the last one of my family. The only one to know the art of combat of our family.
I was alone, and already I missed my father. That tormentor that almost killed me a thousand times. I already missed him.
But I understood now... he got rid of those feelings I didn't need anymore. Now all what was left was my sense of duty. It was now on my shoulders to keep the tradition of the family. Fight for the Illharess, fight for the clan...
I kept training alone, fought again with the army to earn my money. Was part of the expeditionary force where my strong sense of survival and my fighting skills came in handy.
I became everything my father wanted me to be...
But now, it wasn't enough for me.
Especially now, not at this moment...
While the city lies in ruins. I am escorting runaways and refugees, and Anjhali, our new Ilharess... By dozens they try to flee the ruined city. My hands are full blood, I'm not even sure who's anymore. But I can't stop looking at the city. Where was I then ? I couldn't even remember.
I will be strong, because that is all what I can be...
((End of Quel's memories pt1
hope you liked it))