In the frigid silence of the uncharted forest, the freezing blade clung to my hands as an unwavering reminder of my irreversible decision—a fate sealed by my own desperate hands.

        Damn it, why now, those useless memories! I want to forget them! I sighed weakly, surrendering to the weight of my own thoughts. "Just do it...!"

        Betrayed by the misplaced trust in those wretched bastards, I gazed over the waterfall, its roaring waters etching the landscape with a sickening green hue.

        The night sky cradled the world, stars invading the hold of darkness.

        I watched a deer munching on a fallen apple that landed just moments ago, its hazel eyes met mine, innocence contrasting my impending act.

        Another, smaller deer joined. My eyes trailed to it, seeing it hug and snug on its mother. My mother, she was like this to me; not a moment was she not. How could I, her own son end his life?

         Somehow, the sight of life resolved some of my will to end my own, but, it wasn't enough.

         The dagger's icy tip prodded my chest, a sharp feeling grasping at my heart. I shouldn't... But what of my honor? A coward that ends his own life is scum, but a man too fearful to even stick to his decision? Their lives were worthless.

        The knighthood would chastise me endlessly. And what of my parents? A battle waged within me, torn between the cowardice of self-destruction and the fear of neglect.

        My mother, a woman of peace, an advocate of love and joy even in the darkest times.

        Yet, she knew nothing of my struggles, the relentless torment I endured daily from so-called friends.

        But... I neglected myself to not tell her.. It isn't her fault. She loves me. What.. What I'm about to do is simply unforgivable..

        What would everyone think of me? My mom? My brother?

        What of them? A more resigned part of me whispered, They’re not your problem. The dead have no reason to pity the living.

        It was right, what did I care?

        In a moment of desperation, the dagger pressed deeper, its icy head tearing through fabric.

        Thoughts of worthlessness echoed in my mind, the relentless taunts urging me to fulfill their wish.

        "No backing down..!" I told myself in reassurance, they won't care, will they? My teachers, my fellowmen? It won't affect them that much at all.

        My confidence in any chance of restoring my drive to live depleted the more I stuck the blade closer. Then, it poked at my skin.

        Immediately, fear struck my body, paralyzing it with its tip. Fuck... I cursed at myself. I can't do it..! I was a coward, in and out. Even in my own attempt to suicide, even after all I've been through... I still couldn't convince myself to die..

        No.

        I have to die.

        If I return to camp after being gone for so long, then I'll be beaten half to death. They always called me worthless and unuseful.

        They always said I should die.

        So, why don't I grant it?

        Yes, why wouldn't I grant that wish of theirs? I've always done other things for them.

        The blade pressed deeper.

        Summoning the remnants of my courage, I closed my eyes and uttered the count to three.

        "One..Two...Three.."

        The magical essence I formed aided my resolve as the blade penetrated my chest, immediate pain searing through me. I screamed in misery, collapsing onto the rocky ground beside the rushing water.

        No amount of training could have prepared me for this. And the worst part was that I brought it upon myself.

        Pants and huffs raging out of my mouth as I felt my heart shaking and thumping into the blade, tears in my eyes.

        "Aghn.. Haah..." I whimpered, warmth enveloped me, an unusual heat spreading as my lifeblood stained the night.

        The forest rocks shimmered with a golden light as I bled out, groans of pain escaping my lips.

        My arm struggled as I used everything I had in me to gently tap my wound, looking at my hand.

        Blood was everywhere on it.

        I looked down, more blood... I was leaving a trail of crimson liquid. No... I quickly thought. It hurts.. I felt my vision fuzzing and my strength leaving me.

        I leaned low, slowly giving up. My eyes grew more monotone as I still continued to let out harsh pants.

        Finally, my curiosity grew enough to take a look, rotating my head to the source to look at what had come, but the black had started dominating my eyes.

        I dropped once again, a thud ringing in the creaking night forest as more blood oozed out more, grumbles of pain escaping my lips.

        I managed to turn my head feebly, I could vaguely make out a figure, cloaked and rugged, emerging from the shadows. 

        There were smudges of dirt everywhere on the tacky green clothes.

        He lifted his arm, flipping his hood up. White hair framed a tan face on the mysterious stranger. Small specks of hair littered his jaw.

        A solemn expression adorned his face as he carefully stepped toward me.

        The man slowly traced his fingers around my chest, avoiding my massive wound, though, even then, it hurt like hell. The more he pressed, the more my body shook with different intensities of pain.

        He pulled his arm away from me, before flattening his palm, pointing it at my squirming and slowly dying body.

        And then, a gold flash flamed across my eyes, consuming my fading consciousness with shining colors.

        As the brilliant hues danced before my eyes, I felt a surreal detachment from the physical torment. The forest sounds muffled, the rushing water distant.

        It was as if the world itself held its breath, observing the culmination of my despair.

        The stranger, a spectral presence against the backdrop of my dwindling consciousness, spoke words that echoed through the fading corridors of my mind.

        "You have chosen a path fraught with pain, young one. I’ve granted you a second chance, live it well."

        His cryptic utterances resonated, weaving into the fabric of my fading awareness. The pain, though still tangible, became a distant echo as if muted by the cosmic forces at play.

        My body laid sprawled on the rocky ground, blood mingling with the earth, a testament to the struggle between life and impending oblivion.

        As the golden light intensified, I became aware of an ethereal connection forming between myself and the pulsating energies.

        It was as if the very essence of life, the heartbeat of the universe, coursed through me. The pain transformed into a kaleidoscope of sensations, each jolt of agony accompanied by an inexplicable surge of vitality.

        The stranger, concluding his mystic choreography, lowered his hands, the golden glow receding.

        My consciousness wavered on the brink of surrender, the world around me a blur of colors and indistinct sounds.

        The forest, once a silent witness to my plight, now whispered secrets carried on the breeze. Life, in its intricate dance, beckoned me to reconsider the precipice I had approached.

        With a gesture both solemn and mysterious, the stranger retreated into the shadows, leaving me on the damp ground amidst the rejuvenated embrace of the uncharted forest.

        The night, once a harbinger of despair, now held a whispered promise of redemption.

— 

        The sun shone brightly, casting a warm and radiant glow that pierced through the dimly lit room. It was a solemn space, filled with a multitude of desks strewn with scattered papers.

        Adjacent to the cold, gray concrete walls, a solitary window stood, its glass pane gleaming with the light of the outside world.

        Outside, raindrops fell with a sluggish grace, descending as slowly as a sloth's movements.

        The leaves of trees near the window danced in a mesmerizing rhythm, gracefully swaying up and down, as if engaged in an enchanting performance.

        At first glance, there was an air of tranquility in the room. However, a closer look revealed the demoralizing truth that permeated the space.

        In the midst of the room, there lay a long and slender bed, adorned with crisp white sheets. Soft light-colored rails flanked its sides, offering a sense of comfort and security to its occupant.

        This bed, meticulously designed, boasted three distinct sections, each crafted with the intention of providing optimal comfort for the patient.

        Patient.

         He was silent and motionless. Eyes tightly shut, as if locked in a deep slumber from which he could not awaken, no matter how fervently he desired.

        His body, a vessel of helplessness, lay completely immobile. No amount of willpower or exertion could coax even the slightest movement from his limbs.               

        It was a sight both abysmal and tragic, as if he had been condemned to endure an eternal sleep, devoid of respite.

        The papers scattered haphazardly on the surrounding desks bore witness to the weight of his condition. Each sheet held valuable information, documenting the extent of his affliction.

        An attempted suicide.

        Remarkably, when Xion was brought in for treatment, his body displayed no external wounds, gashes, or cuts of any kind.

         The only visible mark of injury was a colossal, golden-colored scar shaped like a perfect circle, etched into the center of his chest.

        The presence of blood indicated that it had been a mere few hours since Xion's discovery. It was unclear whether his body possessed some form of passive regeneration magic or if another compassionate soul had tended to his wounds.

        But, who would commit such a good deed and leave themselves unknown?

        Why the forest—mere kilometers away from his friends and teachers?

        Why did Xion even decide to execute himself?

        These ruminations plagued the minds of all who encountered this tale. However, amidst the uncertainty, one thing was undeniable.

        He would be stripped of his knighthood.

        That is, if he ever awakened from his slumber. The healers grimly stated that the odds of him rousing from his deep sleep were a mere 40%.

        The chances of him reclaiming a normal life were even more minuscule.

        Yet, Xion remained oblivious to these somber prognoses. He was enveloped in a chilling embrace of darkness, his thoughts confined to the solace of his own mind.

        Days passed.

        Only emptiness came from Xion.

        One day, his mother arrived, her heart heavy with grief. Upon learning of her son's condition from the compassionate healers, she crumbled under the weight of her emotions.

        Nothing could ever correlate to the feeling of hearing your child attempted to end their own life, not only that, but the odds of them surviving were slim.

        Hours later, Ryou's heart sank as his best friend’s lifeless body laid before him. The room was engulfed in silence, the air heavy with grief.

        Xion's once vibrant lips now pale and cold, adorned with small wrinkles that spoke of the pain he had endured.

        Outside, the darkened sky mirrored the somber atmosphere within. The trees whispered a warning of an impending storm, their branches thrashing against the window with the force of the wind.

        A tumult of emotions surged within Ryou, as he grappled with the overwhelming sense of loss. 

        Nothing could be any worse than this for him.

        Trembling, Ryou mustered the strength to utter the words that weighed heavily on his heart, "I hate you..." His voice quivered, a stark contrast to the resentment he expressed.

        His body leaned forward, his head gently resting on Xion's unmoving form. Silent tears streamed down his face, mingling with the sound of his stifled sobs.

        “So.. Much...”

        Everyday.. You came to the corp.

        So happy and bright.

        Why didn’t you tell us?

        I was jealous that you could become a knight whilst I had to study to become a mage...

        But.. If I knew…

        I would’ve done everything to be by your side.

        “Please...” Ryou said as tears leaked from his eyes, his hands resting on Xion’s cold and moveless body. “Wake up.. Xion.”

        Please... A silent plea hung in the frigid air

        Weeks passed.

        Mourners from Xion's family began to visit. Among them was his uncle, Kagami Joadia, a fellow knight like Xion's father. At first, Kagami gazed upon Xion's motionless form with a stoic expression, but deep within, his heart shattered.

        In his mind's eye, he saw the young child he once held and guided, encouraging him to embrace chivalry and become a blade for the kingdom.

        Now, all that remained was a frail and feeble body, robbed of its vitality. Tears welled up in Kagami's eyes as the weight of the tragedy settled upon him.

        However, Kagami, a seasoned knight, had witnessed similar scenes before.

        He knew that even in this state, Xion's life was a glimmer of hope, a chance for a future that was not completely extinguished.

        “Rise, Xion.” Kagami voiced out, a deep tone littering his voice as he spoke with bravery—one that fully suggested he had not one doubt Xion would awaken.

        “You aren’t to be like this.” He continued, his head slowly rotating and turning away as his legs took him to the door.

      “You wouldn’t want to be your father, would you?”

        And with those words, Kagami closed the door, leaving Xion in the depths of his despair, the longing for escape growing stronger within him.

        Open your eyes! The voice shouted as it begged to be heard.

        Months passed.

        Not a sign of awareness was seen from Xion, only his eyelids twitched or rested after tightening.

        It was obvious that he attempted to wake up everyday.

        After hearing of this, after those 3 grueling and saddening months, his family was given hope that Xion could make it out of that coma.

        If his knighthood were to be taken or not, as long as he was there, that’s all they cared about. Nothing else mattered.

        For the first time in what felt like weeks, his mother came by.

        As per usual, only the air whispered and wallowed for minutes with silence. She saw how skinny Xion had gotten, yet he grew a bit taller.

        It was evident that after the movement with his eyes, the healers began to take more care of him. It made his mother glad that she could see her son rest easy, as much as she preferred for him to be awake now.

        “Xion, honey..” She silently spoke to him, inching closer as she slid down to his hospital bed, planting herself to his side.

        She went down and caressed his cheek caringly, his cold skin meeting her hot fingers. She constantly held up a faint, gentle smile.

        One with hope and motherly love.

        An unconditional manner only parents would know.

        “They’re saying you may wake up…”

        “I’m excited, if you do.”

        “There’s so many things and stuff that your brother and I have accomplished and done…”

        Her hold on his chin softened as she pulled away slowly, rising up and watching Xion, an ear-ringing silence filling the air.

        “It doesn’t feel right.. Trying to say everything that happened to you as you are… So, if you want to hear it.. Wake up.”

        A few moments after, she exited the room, the peaceful and loving aura dissipating from the room, leaving as a gust of wind flashed over.

       Wake up… The voice whispered weakly, still not heard.

        It was Xion.

        He tried his best to communicate, yet nothing was ever spoken.

         Hearing his chances of waking inspired Xion to try harder. Yet, it never worked.

        His exhausted and tired voice slowly quieted down, he knew it was all in his mind. The screams and yells he said were all in his head. They were just thoughts, thoughts that would never be listened to.

        If he could cry, he would.

        He’d cry a waterfall.

        Why… Why..! I wanted to die, damn it! Why was I saved?!

        Why did that bastard fucking save me!

        It hurt Xion to hear his family sob for him, it hurt even more when they said they hated him, even if he knew it wasn’t true.

        Why did it have to be like this? Why couldn’t I just die?

        Xion’s thoughts were always just those few questions. Why couldn’t he have perished, why did he have to lay there and hear his family cry everytime they came?

        Not fair…! It’s not… FUCKING FAIR! I’ll wake up, even if it’s just for a moment!

        I want to apologize, I want to see them smile. I’ll get stronger, I’ll train myself to death, even if I won’t be a knight anymore.

        I’ll get those bastards, I’ll make them pay! I won’t be a coward anymore, I’ll fight until I die! I swear I will!

        I’ll get my revenge! So please, WAKE UP!

        “Finally.” A voice resonated in the back of Xion’s head. That pure darkness he saw confused Xion, how could anyone ever speak to him?

        “You have realized your purpose.”

        Who are you? Xion asked warily.

        “I am the rage you embody, the calls for revenge you made have been answered.” The voice clarified, and within a moment's notice.

        “Awaken, Xion.. And bring your vengeance to any who have wronged you.”

        A pounding feeling beamed in Xion’s body, one that felt as if he was being pushed back by a block of glass everytime. In his eyes, all he saw was himself, his spirit being blocked by an invisible wall.

        The wall that prevented him from waking up.

        His revenge was only so far away, and this would be the first step. Xion punched again, nothing happened to the wall.

        Again, he jabbed it with all his power, a small scratch. “I’ll do it..!” Xion shouted with rage, slamming his fist into the glass more and more.

        “I’ll kill them, EVERY LAST ONE!” That bubbling flame grew higher and higher.

        “I’ll slay them all with my bare hands! Do you hear me?! WITH MY BARE HANDS!” And then, like a force that pulled on his body, with everything he had, he smashed his hand into the invisible wall, a loud ‘CRICK!’ blasting across that abyss, and then…

        An uneasy feeling came to Xion’s eyes, like he had been transported. It was cold, very cold.

        He felt himself being covered by something, a blanket of sorts.

        Yet, it was hard to open his eyes. Like he were a baby, it forced them with everything he had as they moved up a few centimeters. With that short bit of vision he had, it was dark and silent.

        The more he tried, the more they opened. And like opening a door, his eyelids flung open…

        Immediately, tears shedded from his lids as he realized what had just happened.

        Those grewling months in nothing but darkness, being tormented with the sounds of his crying family.

        It was gone, it’d be gone forever.

        He had escaped.