The Chronicles of Syn
Sins of the Flame
By: SotP
Also of series: Sins of Prologues.
[NOTE: I tried to spell check this, and fixed my grammar to the best of my abilities. Also I was going to enter this into the 'On Fire' contest, but it is too long (Being at 1,242 words.) so I might not enter it. And I could not edit it anymore then I already have. I hope you all enjoy, comments and criticism are welcome.]
I was a good distance back from where the flames were burning down the forest, but I could still feel the intense heat that threatened to burn my skin away; but I dared not turn away.
The screams of the rebels mixed in with the crackle of burning wood, and the roar of the greedy flames. Sometimes you could even see the silhouettes of men racing to-and-fro in the firestorm. I wanted the image before me burned into my memories forever, the price of earning a living killing the people down there.
No doubt that this image would join the parade of other horrors I have witnessed throughout my life that marched in my nightmares to torment me, and to always remind of the pain I caused and have seen and allowed to happen.
“Do you think it hurts?” questioned a voice behind me.
The voice surprised me. I turned away from the flames, feeling my front sudden grow cold, while my back started getting warm. It was an awkward feeling.
My gaze met a young boy dressed in legionary armor. The kid, of no more then eighteen years of age I would guess, waited expectently for my answer.
“What hurts?” I asked the young man before me.
The boy shrugged his shoulders. “Burning to death. Do you think it hurts?”
I turned back to face the blaze. No sense in sugar-coating it for the lad, he would find out later if he asked others, and I was not looking forward to lying tonight.
“Yes, quite a bit.” I stated matter-of-factly. I have been burnt alive before. Back in the old days, when benders were almost unheard of, I was declared to be a magician in-league with the None-Father by a small village I lived in at the time, and decreed to be burned at the stake.
Back then when my immortality was precious to me, I fought tooth and nail with the guards while they dragged me towards the stake to be secured, then I was lifted into the awaiting bonfire, which reminded me so much of the forest fire before me; flames dancing almost welcoming me to join them, but at the same time looking evil and murderous.
Sometimes I wish I did die in that bonfire. Because now the image of the flames licking at my body, while the demonic looking crowd below me jeered, wishing for my death, now danced through my nightmares.
The young lad’s voice suddenly brought me back into the land of the present.
“If it hurts so much, why don’t they come out and face a honorable death by our swords and not nature's flames?”
I shook my head, “Death is never honorable, even if it’s from the devouring flames, by a man’s sword, or if struck down with disease.”
“That’s not what the priest at my village said. He said that men who faced honorable deaths would be greeted by the All-Father personally in the life after.”
Is that why the poor boy joined the legion? To face an honorable death and be greeted by a false god?
“There is no after-life, kid. There is no gods, when you die, you die. You will disappear forever in the abyss of nothingness, and the world will keep turning, honorable death or not.”
“That’s not true!” the boy sounded desperate, “There is a life after death! There is a god who will accept me with love into his halls after I finally meet my worthy end at a foes blade!”
It was sick, listening to how much the kid believed in the word he spoke. The hope and blind belief seeped into the lad’s words, tainting them, making them ring sickly in my ears.
“Why are you asking me such things?” I questioned, “I do not even know who you are, and who am I to answer such questions?”
At my words, the boy seemed to get excited, “Why, you are the mercenary Logan Valswood! The other men said you are the slayer of hundreds of rebel scum! You faced their swords without fear of death or pain!”
I winced at the words. My name is not truly Logan Valswood; it is just one of the many names I hide under to keep people from knowing my true name. The name I give to describe who I am is Syn. I hide my name because Syn is known by almost every person in all of the known lands.
Syn is known as the monster of darkness, the servant of the None-Father. The beast that appears in the visage of a man, who sacrifices whole nations to the dark god he serves. I was humanity’s current nightmare and horror story.
The boy pressed on, “You are a champion of the Legions, and you serve your empire proudly! Who else would I ask such questions to anyone else but you?”
I wanted to throw the fool boy into the forest flames, then the boy could find out if being burnt to death hurts. I wanted to shove my blade into him so the boy could find out if his foolish beliefs in the All-Father were true or not.
I tried to clam myself, but the pain and anger I felt at the boys words overwhelmed my normally claim demeanor. The lad honored me for killing people; the same people whose faces would haunt me to the end of time.
But the boy did not give up, he walked around me and stared at me, awaiting an answer. I did not give him one.
After several hours later the boy left me, a downcast expression upon his face, probably because he was rejected an answer from his hero, the mighty warrior Logan Valswood, who was also the secret evil monster Syn.
Unsurprisingly, the forest was still ablaze, the flames devouring every little bit they could from the ancient wood.
After a few more hours contemplating the boys’ words, I gathered all of my gear from the legion camp, and took one of their horses and rode off into the night. I did not care about payment right now, all of the money I earned would have never bought back the lives of the men that I killed.
Soon I made camp at a safe place where the legion could never find me, and I lay down to rest. I had taken no ale with me when I left the legion, so I would expect the nightmares to come.
And when I finally drifted off to sleep, the image of the flame flaying the skins of the rebels who I killed greeted me. Their eyes accusing me of killing them and ending their already short existence.
Then the nightmare sifted to the young boy’s face, demonic now in expression calling me a hero, praising my deeds as a murderer and for serving the legion. I clutched my head, trying to drown out the words of the lad, but nothing I did stopped the words from drifting into my mind.
Again the nightmare sifted once again, this time I was strapped to a stake, the flames of the bonfire eating me alive. The demonic crowd below me jeered, while a man to the side read from a book describing my many crimes. And he did not even announce anywhere close to all of my sins when I finally awoke.
The End.
