The Falcon

"Good evening." I addressed my audience. "You all love your entertainment, don't you?" My audience stayed dead silent.

In the dimly lit chamber, shrouded in an eerie silence, I, the Falcon, addressed an audience that had long passed from the realm of the living. With a solemn breath, I gazed upon the empty chairs before me, their occupants hidden by the veil of death.

As I spoke, my voice echoed, haunting the space as a ghostly specter. Whispers dripped from my lips, seeping into the ethereal air, their cadence chilling the marrow within my bones. The dead, oblivious to their state, sat in rapt attention, their vacant eyes fixated on a place far behind me, forever locked in a trance of eternal stillness.

The shock of their existence, or rather, non-existence, gnawed at the recesses of my mind. How could these lifeless beings bear witness to my words? What cruel twist of fate had rendered them unable to flee the suffocating grip of mortality? Was there no way for them to overcome this mortality?

- Excerpt from the Falcon's Diary.

I suddenly awoke. I must have blacked out from the amount of alcohol I drank. Groggily, I opened my eyes and recognized the familiar ceiling of the bar I always hung around. "The ceiling?" I muttered, glancing around. The occupants of the three tables near me stared at me blankly. I was most certainly not drunk, but I acted as if I was as I pulled myself off the floor. A group of fairly short men with swords nearly as large as themselves snickered at my drunkenness.

I blacked out once again.

I awakened once again, between two halves of a table, four large wooden mugs on top of me, and four short men looming three feet above me and covered in ale. "I thought dwarves carried pickaxes," I said to them, getting up.

"You'll regret saying that you foolish devil!" The shortest, and most likely leader, yelled.

"Hold on, let me wring out my pants." I replied foolishly as I walked towards the door. I felt a soft wind on the back of my legs.

I soon felt, or didn't feel, my left arm.

"What the-" I yelped. "You can reach up there!?"

"Yes, magic is odd. Is it not?"

I stumbled out of the door. Maybe I could reach a healer in time. I knew I could outrun the men's short legs, but the threat of magic was no laughing matter. I tried to recall where the healer was. As I did so, my left foot sprained itself, and I reached out to catch myself, but no arm came to my aid.

A hard exhalation escaped my lungs, and I found myself very short of breath. I laid coughing on the ground, struggling to regain my feet.

The short men reached my quivering body seconds later. As I was passing out from the pain, I heard the leader yell, "How's this on for size!?"

I jolted awake. It was early morning, and blood lay around my whole body, staining the cobblestone of the street. I could feel a slight numbness in both of my arms. Both arms? I gazed in the direction of my left arm. It was effectively spotless. "Huh?" I said aloud. It seems that someone had healed me while I was asleep. I fell to my knees, thanking each of the gods personally.

A sudden voice entered my head. "You forgot me?" It asked.

The houses to my left seemed to become more ominous, as if they were shrouded in shadows, and the sea smelled of blood.

I recoiled from shock. "Who are you?"

"I am a god." It replied. I pondered this miraculous situation.

"A god?" I said, "Has a god chosen me?"

"Yes, obviously. I have chosen you to be my incarnation."

I could not believe my luck. I felt their power surging through my veins.

"What abilities have you granted me?" I asked the god

"Why don't you see for yourself?" It replied dubiously.

"You should have died!" an oddly familiar voice roared from behind me. A singular short man stood, pointing his sword in my direction. "You will die this time for sure, I have the almighty power of the wind spirit guiding my movements!"

"Ah, the wind spirit, an old friend of mine." the voice echoed. "And don't ask me to explain what I've given you. You'll figure it out."

I sighed, I wouldn't be able to use the gods power until he told me what it was! The short man charged me at the speed of the fastest horse I could have imagined. I willed some ability to awaken. A monotone voice filled my head. "The conditions have not been met." What? What conditions? no gods imposed conditions on their incarnations!?

The sword was plunging directly towards my stomach, and I realized it was too late. I felt my arm move, as if in slow motion, and his sword snapped in half.

It carried its momentum into my stomach. I staggered back, severely wounded. "You lousy god!" I screamed out, "You were never of use to me!"

My eyes became blurry, I was entering a rage, and the only one to release this anger was this puny maggot in front of me.

"You think this could kill me?" I chuckled through the immense pain before stumbling in his direction. "Gghh," I grimaced while extracting the sword from my chest.

"What are you doing!?" The god echoed in my head. "Shut it." I choked in reply. I brandished my newfound weapon in the short man's direction. He was frozen in fear as I plunged it deep into his chest.

He coughed up blood, and his skin started to feel clammy and cold on my fingers. I was stunned at his near immediate death. I couldn't have a death on my hands. I glanced out to the ocean. It still smelled of blood. I stepped over the still body and looked for any escape routes between the houses.

I doubled over and vomited blood. My body had taken much more damage than I thought.

(This isn't even half of one chapter ;-;)

I rolled over my shoulder onto my back and lay there trembling. Oddly, the sun started to feel cold, and I started to lose feeling in my hands. I tried to sit up, but I was too weak. I was dying.

The body near me coughed. he shuffled into my view and raised his now shorter sword. "Shorty," I muttered in his presence. The sword was now raised over his head and was going to kill me, but there was nothing I could do.

And then I died.

In the sudden darkness, a chilling hush settled over my world. Was this my world? My eyes slowly adjusted to my surroundings as a voice pierced the air. "Good evening," his words slithered through the silence, an icy grip constricting my heart. "You all love your entertainment, don't you?" My trembling form remained frozen in the face of this eerie apparition.

The dimly lit room flickered with an unsettling glow, casting elongated shadows that danced with wicked intent. The figure's gaze pierced through the veil of death, his eyes aflame with a predatory gleam that sent shivers crawling down my spine. I could sense his malevolence, an unseen force lurking behind that deceivingly calm façade.

As his words echoed, a suffocating sense of dread settled upon me. Whispers dripped from his lips like venomous droplets, each syllable penetrating the very essence of my being. The cadence of his voice reverberated, a symphony of horror that reverberated through the marrow of my bones, leaving me trembling in terror.

I dared not meet the gaze of the lifeless audience seated around me, their vacant eyes fixated on some otherworldly abyss. Their stillness was a testament to the unfathomable horror that awaited them in this wretched existence, condemned to endure the torment of the figure's presence.

Fear gnawed at the edges of my sanity as I grappled with the cruel twist of fate that had thrust me into this macabre scene. The realization dawned upon me that I was trapped in the clutches of a malevolent deity, maybe a pawn in his wicked game of torment and despair.

Was there no escape from this living nightmare? The figure's menacing aura permeated the chamber, his intentions veiled in darkness. The veil of death, once believed to offer respite, now betrayed me, sealing my fate within this realm of perpetual dread.

I dared not question the depths of his power or the true nature of my sudden rebirth. The overwhelming sense of helplessness and terror weighed upon me, suffocating any hope that might have flickered within my soul.

As the figure's haunting performance reached its crescendo, I yearned for release from this twisted theater of horrors. The silent audience, forever locked in their trance, mirrored my own disbelief and terror, their collective presence, a chilling testament to the inescapable clutches of their new existence.

With a quivering heart, I longed for the moment when this nightmarish encounter would come to an end, when I could finally break free from the Falcon's menacing grasp and reclaim the fading remnants of my shattered sanity.

The performance had long ended.

I next found myself in a grand banquet hall, adorned with opulent decorations and an air of sinister elegance, I found myself seated across from the enigmatic figure I now knew as the figure The room seemed to breathe with an eerie energy, as if it were a living entity under the figure's malevolent influence.

His presence was suffocating, his form shrouded in shadows that danced with a wicked glee. The figure's eyes, two pools of unending darkness, stared into the depths of my soul, stripping away any façade of bravery I had mustered. My heart pounded in my chest, and every beat a desperate plea for release from this terrifying encounter.

The figure's voice, a chilling whisper that seemed to echo from the depths of the abyss, slithered through the air, each word dripping with an otherworldly cunning. "You tremble in my presence," he hissed, relishing in my fear. "But fear not, for I offer you a second chance at life."

My terror grew with every passing moment, for I knew that the figure's words held a weight I could not comprehend. He possessed the power to bend reality to his will, a terrifying force that sent shivers down my spine.

As the banquet unfolded, the figure reveled in his grotesque display of power. With a mere gesture, the room twisted and contorted, defying the laws of nature. Shadows danced with a wicked glee, forming grotesque shapes that seemed to mock my very existence.

I dared not meet his gaze, for I feared that his eyes held the secrets of my deepest fears and darkest desires. The figure's cunning intellect pierced through my feeble attempts at resistance, leaving me utterly defenseless in his presence.

With a voice that sent chills cascading down my spine, the figure spoke again. "You are mine to mold, to shape," he declared, his words resonating with a perverse delight. "A second chance at life, but remember, the price will be paid."

In that moment, the room seemed to close in around me, a suffocating embrace that mirrored the figure's hold on my very soul. His offer, a glimmer of hope disguised in the trappings of terror, left me torn between the allure of escape and the overwhelming fear of the consequences that would surely follow.

As I struggled to find my voice, the figure's dark laughter filled the room, the sound a symphony of malice and derision. In his presence, I was but a pawn, a plaything to be used and discarded at his whim.

"But, even if you did not agree to my proposal. I will send you back anyway."

What? "What is it you really want from me? I can tell you're hiding something."

"I always am... It is the way of a shadow god, after all."

Shadow god? I have no recollection of this sect.

"Shadow is in our name, dummy. If nobody knows of us, we have achieved our goal"

"Can you read my thoughts?"

"All gods can read their incarnations' thoughts, can't they?"

A chill ran down my spine as the realization set in that the figure possessed the ability to peer into the deepest recesses of my mind. I felt exposed, vulnerable in the presence of this cunning and mysterious being.

"Your thoughts are an open book to me, a mere flicker of entertainment," the figure taunted, relishing in my discomfort. "But fear not, for I offer you a second chance at life not out of benevolence, but for my own twisted amusement."

The banquet hall seemed to shift, the very fabric of reality warping under the figure's influence. Shadows elongated, intertwining with the essence of the room, giving birth to grotesque figures that danced in macabre unison.

"Your life shall be a tapestry of torment and despair," the figure declared, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. "Each step you take, every breath you draw, will be a reminder of your indebtedness to me."

A surge of defiance welled up within me, fueled by the lingering embers of my dwindling courage. "And if I refuse? If I reject your twisted offer?"

The figure's eyes glinted with an unsettling mixture of amusement and malice. "Refusal is not an option," he hissed, the room quivering with his every word. "For you see, I hold dominion over life and death. I am the puppeteer, and you, my unwitting marionette."

A sense of resignation washed over me, my defiance swallowed by the overwhelming realization of my helplessness. I was but a pawn in the figure's grand design, a pawn whose fate was intricately entwined with the whims of this terrifying god.

As the banquet drew to a close, the figure rose from his seat, his presence commanding the attention of all who remained in that twisted realm. "Your journey shall begin anew, a twisted path strewn with shadows and echoes of the past," he proclaimed, his voice resonating with a mixture of menace and perverse delight "May your second chance at life be a constant reminder of the darkness that lurks within you."

With a final flourish and a wink, the figure vanished into the shadows, leaving behind a lingering aura of malevolence. As the banquet hall dissolved into ethereal mist, I jolted awake. It was early morning, and blood lay around my whole body, staining the cobblestone of the street. "Huh?" I said aloud.

The buildings were cloaked in shadow, and the sea smelled of blood.