Magnus Academy: The Cursed Blood

The Resonating Ripples Of Fate

I want to die.

Those words might have sounded selfish--it was, and it was associated with deep regret and bitterness that I couldn't truly say it out loud. You wouldn't want me to have such an ending though, yet still, you wouldn't want me to suffer living a life I was forced to live with. But that's just how it goes, life wasn't always made to be beautiful. Sometimes, it has to be flawed to be one, and mine was a great example of it. I was not happy, nor was I sad either. I was merely satisfied, but at the end of the day, what would drive at peace the most is death.

Fate is predetermined, but it isn't always that way. What would happen and what we know would happen have their differences, where either of the two can be affected by decisions one makes in their lives. My fate was twisted enough that no matter what decisions and options I come running to, the outcome will always stay the same--unchanging, inescapable. I despise my own fate, not because of the fact that I couldn't change it but the fact that the world needed to be dragged down with it, affecting people around me, affecting even their own fates.

I thought I grew up with none, but that was wrong. I had the world with me as I wake up day by day gazing through the distance, I had the world hanging according on how I handled my own emotions. You told me I could take everything but chose to take none, though I wonder if you have ever realized that I was actually taking too much in pretense of having none. You would probably be lonely if I die, and I could only imagine then how many lifetimes you would have had to walk on to alone with nothing but my memories to keep you by. I despise fate for that same reason too, that why was I given such a cruel path to carve my life with while you were never given one.

However, I was envious of you as well--just like how you found mine all the same. I was the being who loved death, and you were the girl who dislike it. I was who found herself basking with the beauty of life and you were who realized you weren't. I invite death while you run away from it. You loved life too much you forgot to die, and I loved death too much that I was living all my life for it. We were different, but at the same time, we could understand each other better than everyone could. We filled one another's gaps, and we were inseparable--until we weren't.

My aides were all that I had, and they were more than mere aides for me. They trusted me with their lives, they gave me the authority to it, they did everything to support me when even my own race couldn't. We had times where we were...happy, playing around, and there were times where they were so willing so defy me when they knew it would do me no good. They were loyal as I was to them, and they were more than capable than any thousands of armies brought in together. My aides had been with me since the beginning, and thinking about the fact that they were still with me even through the end gave me a sense of security. I wouldn't have blamed them if they were to leave, if they were to betray me, to kill me behind my back, but despite all those vulnerabilities I had showed them, they were united not against me.

My friendship with those two did not start as one, it started in a fight, in pretenses, in pride, until they all changed. I didn't know when it did so, I didn't pay enough attention to figure things out. The fights became gentle, masked with concern behind, the pretenses became real, and we were willing to do everything we deemed as best for the team, and the pride turned to something shallow that we were willing to abandon it for something new. What destroyed our 'normal' friendship though was power, the desire to surpass one another, to clear each other's jealousy, misunderstanding, and hatred.

Celeztie was a child after me, and you were right, I should put my trust in her more--I did, it was up to her now how she'd use that trust. I could not give her the family she wanted, the mother she longed for, and the life she desired for I wasn't to in the first place. Perhaps I could have in a different lifetime, perhaps we could even be a family. She was a child I refused to see as one, for I was afraid I might indulge myself in playing as a mother that I would only hurt myself in the end. Say, am I cruel? For choosing my own selfishness rather than taking responsibility to the child I bore. But have I not suffered enough? Have I not...been through enough?