Loss

Is it even possible to hurt something that has already been through hell? This question could only be asked by a truly desperate man. A creature bereft of any last hope for a better future. Ha-ha, and as silly as it sounded, the answer was more positive than negative. After all, even souls doomed to wander forever in hell feel pain. And Haemon was no exception, his soul tasted pain again, and this pain was something else previously unknown. Yes, the barbarian had lost loved ones before, and the taste of loss was not new to him. But the taste of heartbreak from the death of his beloved is something else, something that causes him to wallow in his own nightmares, memories and hopes hurt him so badly that it cannot be expressed in words. He didn't even notice the difference between Tartarus, where he used to dwell, and some snowy land where he came through a portal. The cry of the one who was more than a sister to him kept going round and round in his head, unwilling to give his bloody mind time to heal. In the past, when a madman had lost someone, he had realized, deep down, on an unconscious level, that the person was not originally related to him. After all, how can you truly love someone who dreams of stabbing you in the back.

But it was different with Mara!? She was originally something more than all these so-called relatives. Mara was not merely the embodiment of Haemon's longings, oh no she was his anchor in a sea of madness. The Rubicon that kept the demons of powerlessness from taking complete control of the Olympian's mind. Mara is a faint ray of light and hope in the dark cage of a sick mind. The thirst to live and learn something absolutely new, a fire that does not let the traveler freeze to death in the cold night. And now it's all gone! Not even the ashes of the fire that gave some sense to move towards the light. The rage had burned everything away. What should he do now that there was nothing left? Continue to fight, but with whom and for what? Every action he takes eventually leads to the loneliness he hates. What is the point of fighting if defeat is assured? But then what is there to do? Simply existing in spite of what is so much more painful than fighting himself for survival? Haemon's mind was fading into such questions, and because of this, he slowly began to lose touch with the real world. The thoughts of various beings became entangled with his own, making it impossible for him to know where he was. Black blood flowed from his nose and eyes, and his whole body shook convulsively. Claws dug into the snow and teeth into his own flesh. "I didn't mean it honestly!" Shouted a man's voice in his head, pouring tears. "Oh no my children! How could you do this to them? You monster!" The woman screamed, clutching the bloody bundle of skin tightly. "Ha-ha silly boy do you think I have any love left in me for you?" Voices with different visions continued to torment Haemon. They had no intention of letting the Olympian grieve for his dead sister.

"Away!" The barbarian screamed, spewing a blob of black flame from his mouth like a dragon. "Shut up! I don't care about your pain, it's as worthless as you!" The warrior's entire body erupted like a torch in a dark cave. The black fire was as if the night itself consumed him, forcing the barbarian through a new gate of torment. Memories, dreams, fears, hopes, all jumbled together in his head, creating a hellish mixture that could drive even the strongest to their limits. "Haemon boy, come back to me, and together we will avenge all your enemies. Accept me as your father and I promise you rivers of blood!?" A red goat with a long neck like a snake appeared out of nowhere, its yellow eyes riveting the barbarian's gaze. The thing spoke in a disgusting male voice, its hissing like a snake could be felt in every word. Its twisted horns dug into its head, causing red nectar to stain the snow-white snow. Though the beast tried to appear friendly, there was a tremendous threat from it. The smell of death and pain filled the warrior's nostrils, drowning out even the stench of his own burned flesh.

When the beast appeared, all voices fell silent, like sheep in the wolf's face. Though the creature had taken the form of a goat, its predatory nature had not disappeared, but rather intensified, creating terror. "You're not him, are you!?" Haemon whispered, slowly crawling backward, his body instinctively wanting to be as far away from the creature as possible. "Ha-ha ha-ha your whole miserable life has been a lie! You are me! One day you will understand" The creature's mouth slowly opened, releasing a horde of snakes. The venomous creatures immediately pounced on the barbarian, and as soon as their fangs touched him. The warrior immediately lost consciousness in indescribable pain.

"He's having an attack! Vidar, if you've brought him here, help me! Hold his hands!" A woman of tall sturdy build yelled at the red-haired young man as she entered the herbalist's room. There on the bed lay a mutilated man of sturdy build whose body was beating in frantic convulsions. The woman began quickly mixing some kind of herbs in a black vessel while the young man silently grabbed the wounded man's hands without fear and tried to calm him down. "Where did you say you found him?" Smiling, the woman quickly ran up to the man and began to apply some kind of runes of green mixture to his body. She was like an artist in a burst of inspiration, her delicate long fingers quickly creating patterns one by one. And her scarlet lips enchanted the young man's mind in a soft smile. "Vidar don't loosen your grip!" The woman scolded him noticing that he was staring at her. The young man only quickly shook his head and made a more serious appearance, squeezing the giant's hands tighter. Putting some sort of rune on the man's forehead, the woman gently touched it and slowly began to mutter something. At that moment, one could see her one single eye covered in a black veil. Abruptly withdrawing her hand and stepping back, she took a deep breath: "That should help for a while" As if by magic, the man's body immediately calmed down, letting the young man relax and let him go at last. Only the man's mighty chest rose and fell.

"You say you found it while hunting in the snow?" The woman said affectionately, washing the herbal ointment off her hands. The young man nodded affirmatively, taking his map out of his pocket and showing exactly where he'd found it. "Hmm, there aren't any beasts out there that could inflict such wounds on him. Wasn't there anything else with him besides those rags?" Wiping her wet hands the woman wondered at the uninvited guest. Where had he gotten such wounds? Why was he in these woods? Was he an enemy? And if so, then maybe she should have let him die? So many questions, the answers to which she could only get by waiting for this giant to awaken. Pondering, Vidar pulled a small silver dagger from his hunting bag and held it out to his friend. "Is that all? Eh and what did I expect" Sighing and smiling softly the girl reached for the dagger. "Hmm, seems like a simple dagger and nothing special, though you have to admit it's pretty good quality. And quite sharp" The brown-haired woman gently touched the blade of the weapon, thus spilling a drop of her blood on it. The dagger vibrated as if alive, transforming before her eyes from a simple silver dagger to a bone dagger with an admixture of gray iron. Quickly retrieving a wooden box from under the table, the woman didn't hesitate to put the weapon inside and seal it with a spell. "Who did you bring Vidar?" She whispered, looking at the sleeping body of the warrior.