Chapter 1: Chapter 1: Second Death

The dim firelight bolted into the wall cast shadows upon the stone corridor, the fire flickering at everything that passed it. Dripping water echoed seemingly from everywhere at once as rats scurried out from holes made from fragile cracks in the walls, and then hid when hearing muffled footsteps. Two guards walked down the corridor. One in front holding the end of a long chain while the other walked behind him. Their clean silver armor glinted in the dim firelight.

In the middle was a person caked in dirt, dried blood, and whatever else was growing in the dungeons with a thick collar of metal around his neck, wrists, and ankles. His hair was a dry, tangled, and matted black mess that was stuck to his scalp with some strands being held together with clumps of dried blood. Hideous lacerations, burn marks, and other wounds covered his body from head to toe with the coarse and tattered dark brown shirt and pants doing little to hide them. The skinny, starving body trembled as he tried to walk forward, the newly added lacerations on his feet burning as they opened again and again with each step he took. The sound of the chain the guard was holding pulled back a bit as he stumbled.

A look of annoyance and irritation twisted the features of the guard walking in the front. He viciously pulled the chain forward, making the iron collar around the boy’s neck dig into the skin and warm rivulets of blood run down from his neck to his feet.

“Stop dragging your feet! No matter how you dawdle, you're still dying today,” the 1st guard sneered.

The 2nd guard behind the boy snickered as the boy was wrenched forward and fell to his knees. Pain erupted from the still healing lacerations on the boys’ legs and knees as he hit the floor. A pained gasp rushed past his lips before he could stop it. A faint twisted amusement erupted from his heart and in his moment of pain he wanted to laugh. He knew that better than anyone.

When he pleaded with his family to find who was behind his framing, they cruelly told him that he was their scapegoat. The family he tried to earn affection and acceptance from for two lifetimes sent him purposely to his death to save themselves. All that time, he fought for people who thought he was a piece of tissue paper. Completely ignoring him, the guards kept on walking without stopping. Oxygen was desperately trying to reach his lungs as the metal collar around his neck wrenched him back onto his feet by his neck.

Dark spots danced before his eyes as his body, like on autopilot, moved forward. Once again, the pain erupting from his feet raced up and down his body. In the back of his mind, the boy had the thought that at least he wouldn’t be tortured anymore since today was his death day. After a few minutes he felt the guard stop and for the first time, the boy lifted his head to look forward. A large Iron door, carved with runes and scroll work stood before him.

If he wasn’t about to die, he would have loved to study the runes carved upon its surface. The guard in front placed his hand on the door, murmured something under his breath, and the runes on the door began to twist and move. As they moved into different shapes, they emitted a golden glow. After a couple of minutes, the light faded away and the guard pushed the door open. A blinding light pierced his eyes, and the boy squinted against the pain from his eyes adjusting to something he hadn’t seen in two years.

But despite that, the collar yanked him forward and the stone turned from cold to hot. Oddly enough, it seemed to be less painful on his feet and allowed him to walk forward a little better. Through his adjusting eyes he could see several people in the stands looking down on him. Their chatter, snickers and laughter reverberated in his ears as the guards slowly led him up to a platform where another guard, the executioner, stood holding a noose. What they said couldn’t be understood but the boy bet they were saying he deserved his death and was looking forward to it. 

Yet they didn’t know those words were spoken about an innocent person who had done nothing wrong. Desperation and anger erupted inside him and disappeared as quickly as it came. His feelings meant nothing now. Even if he explained why he was innocent nobody would believe him. The “evidence” his family used against him was to complete. 

As he stood upon the platform, the two guards pushed him in front of the executioner. His legs wobbled and caught his falling body before he hit the ground again. The executioner grabbed his arm to help him continue walking and waved the two other guards off the platform before leading him to a noose. The boy glanced at him and he felt a little complicated. The executioner looked like he was cut from stone.

His face was, scarily, empty with no emotion in his eyes. The executioner reminded the boy of someone who was tiredly waiting for his job to end so he could go home. As he turned him to face the place where the king sat he released the shackle around the boy's neck before a rough rope replaced it. For a moment, the boy felt air kiss the exposed skin and it felt very freeing. Every moment, he was getting closer to death and yet there was no fear. 

He closed his eyes. Instead, there was a sense of relief. He had already lived two lifetimes and gained nothing he wanted, no matter how hard he tried. The family he worked so hard for wiped out all his false hopes. The only regret he had was that he worked so hard for people who didn’t love him. But at the same time, there was a little unwillingness in his heart. At what…he didn't care to figure it out. 

The executioner tightened the noose and he walked to stand beside the lever to open the door beneath the boy’s feet. People watching in the stands became silent, waiting with bated breath.

“Soren Larmalli, 25 years old, stands here today for stealing the royal family’s assets and his involvement in a conspiracy against the crown! The sentence is death!” the executioner roared into the stands before turning to him, “Do you have any last words?"

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Soren froze for a moment.

'They allow prisoners to give their last words?'

But Soren still nodded his head. He looked up and the first person he locked eyes with was his father. The indifferent look in his eyes was familiar while the look on his face was very cold. His brother and sister stood behind him with a gloating look and a sneer while his mother wasn’t even looking at him. She was too busy playing with her bracelet, like looking at him was too much energy. Soren felt a rising feeling of hurt and confusion he thought he wouldn’t be able to feel again. 

Why?

What was the point of picking up all those years ago? What was the point of keeping him if they didn’t want him? They didn’t need him when they brought back the real young master, so why still keep him? Why not kick him out? Death was not the only way to leave the family…

Why? Whywhywhwyhwhywhywhwyhwy-

“I wish…” his voice trembled, “that you left me to starve in that orphanage.”

Soren tore his gaze away from them and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to see the look on their faces. It didn’t matter if it changed or if it didn’t. Those faces didn’t change the first time and they wouldn’t change this time. A small laugh escaped him. He thought the first time he died prepared him for this one. That no matter what, he wouldn’t expect anything from them. But even until now, he couldn’t give up the illusion that they cared. The sound of lever being pulled echoed in his ears and Soren opened his eyes to gaze up at the clear blue sky. 

God

The trap door opened and Soren felt himself falling. Air rushed up from behind and around him, giving him the illusion that he was flying. However, he continued to stare up at the blue sky. 

Let me die this time

Soren closed his eyes as his memories flashed before them. The glimpse of his fathers smile that morphed into indifference, his mothers laughter that was replaced by scorn, and his siblings teasing that changed into insults. Everything he ever wanted crumbling and dissolving into nothing. The hurt and confusion in his heart disappeared only to be replaced by tiredness. 

I wish I never loved you

He felt a burst of pain for only a moment and his world was plunged into darkness. Nobody in the stands cheered. Instead they looked on with horror at the dead body swinging at the end of the rope with a smile on its face. However, Soren would never know.