Shatter Me

On January 1st, in a small town called Vinci, on the outskirts of Fiore, was the beginning to the rollercoaster I call my life.

When I was five years old, I thought that the small farm I where I lived was everything.  The mile long stretch of land owned by my father was my first experience with the world around me.  I spent many summers toiling and plowing in the fields.  My family was relatively poor, and they used a method of sustenance farming to support themselves.  As a result, every birthday gift I had usually consisted of food or handmade objects.  On my twelfth birthday however, they introduced me to Miss Leiya, the local guild master, and allowed me to join the guild.

Although I may not still be a part of that group, I remember being very fond of the people there.  The guild master, of course, was whom I spent most of my time with.  The lady was extremely generous, and she welcomed both my family and I with open arms.  It wasn’t until my fifteenth birthday though, when I realized how important she had become.  During my teenage years, I also wrote plenty of poetry.  No one in the guild appreciated it, but Leiya and my parents were my best audience.

It’s my fifteenth birthday, and I’m helping my father in the fields once again.  I’m drenched in sweat underneath the spring sun.  When I reached the porch of my house, my mother gave me an apple, and a “Happy birthday, son.”  She later told me that she would bake a pie with the rest, so I excused myself to spend time at the guildhall.  On that day, Arven, the drunkard, was there instead of Leiya, who was out on a mission.  I decided to return home after a few hours, still able to enjoy myself with the other members.  When I arrived back home, neither of my parents were downstairs.  So, I chose to check upstairs.  My father…lied limp in the bed, and my mother was crying at her side.  His hands were clutched around his chest, and his breathing slowed to a stop when I arrived.  I shook his now cold body, and then I realized that he’s not getting back up.
There was a light, airy, almost dreamlike feeling that engulfed me.  If I think hard enough, I can still feel it.  The months that followed my father’s death were short, yet painstakingly silent.  No one in the house spoke, and my mother was depressed, and quite eerie.  My sympathy for her only ran so far though, as I gradually began to mourn with Leiya in private.  I rarely showed this type of emotion around others, and typically kept it bottled until I was alone.  But…my mother’s death was the last straw.  She eventually died of a broken heart, as well as starvation.

I lost the rights to my family’s land as well, and was forced to live with Leiya.  I barely made a meager wage on guild quests, for I had little experience with combat.  Under her wing, I learned to mature quickly; with endless training alone in the woods.

When I first joined the local guild, it was the best thing that could have ever happen to me.  Though I knew little to no magic at the time, I spent time watching the wizards there practice, and hoped to one day learn from it.  When I grew older, guild master Leiya introduced me to a type of magic she thought I might be fond of: Take-Over.  I began with a few basic transformation spells, learning to copy the faces of some of the other members.  I remember not being the best at it, and her constantly encouraging me.  By the time I was old enough to take on quests, I mastered some basic combat spells as well.  However, I couldn’t quite find a signature form, or one I could maintain at least.
While in the guild, which was named Thorn’s Crown by the way, I was not the most fun character.  It’s just part of my personality really, I dislike recklessness; unlike everyone else I seemed to meet.  I didn’t find enjoyment in drinking either, which partly came from my dislike for Leiya’s spouse, an abusive drunkard.  Whom I had my run-ins with him every once in a while too.
As a challenge, Leiya had me perform an exam.  It was more of a combat exercise, a difficult one.  I was around seventeen years old, and the wizard she had me fight was well over twenty-five.  I nearly lost the fight, but in the end I pulled through with a surprising trump card.  I perfected a signature Take-Over soul in that battle.  The soul was appropriately titled, the Ghoul Soul; souls of the dead.  From then on, I practiced and quested like no other.  There was some point in my time with them, where I simply couldn’t handle the guild anymore.  It began to resemble everything I disliked; the constant drunkenness, the insensitivity of the people, and the most unappealing factor, the mediocrity.  Everyone seemed to strive for simplicity, carelessly finishing tasks, et cetera.

At nineteen years I considered myself a full grown adult.  At that age, a bad habit grew inside me, and I began to push people away.  I increasingly started to distance myself from everyone else, seeking solitude for myself.  I may have lived with Leiya still, but I quickly saved enough money for my own place.  Unfortunately, I grew out of Vinci, and the house I ended up buying was located in Magnolia.  I figured it would be better for me to start over again, that’s how I thought moving away would feel at least.  So, I packed my bags and left Vinci for good.
With little money and not a goal in sight, I tried many new hobbies around Fiore.  I became a fisherman in Hargeon town, but became sick of the constant boats.  Then, I thought I could become a hunter, though I had no knowledge of seasons, or how to skin an animal.  After hundreds of short-lived careers, I gave up trying to find something that pleased me.  And then I remembered, I was a wizard.  Though still guildless, I took on missions requested by the local people.
Finally content with myself, I settled down in Magnolia.  I accumulated enough money to buy a cottage outside of the city.  Everything was eccentric to me; I rarely spoke to the city’s people.  I made many acquaintances, but never any lasting friendships.  

You can say I stumbled upon my preset path.  I ended up repeatedly taking dark missions for guildless wizards.  It came to the point where I eventually joined a dark guild for a short period.  This…this didn’t end in the best way, I can assure you.  I barely joined for half of a year when they marked me as an S ranked.  Of course, it was because of the rest of the guild’s weakness that I was upheld.  However, the master…payed me extremely well for quests.  I took on even the biggest of jobs for a six-digit income, merely 250,000 jewels on a bad day.  It overcame me in a snap though when they became assassination jobs.

One day, on the quest board, someone put up a sign for guild master Leiya’s head.  Within the hour it was gone.  Deep inside, I knew I couldn’t allow this to happen, so I ended up killing the mage before he got off the train.  When I returned to the dark guild, I came back with a fury that nearly destroyed the entire forest it was hidden in.  As soon as I faced the master, I lost it.  Before then, I had a sense of mercy when fighting, but he threatened the life of someone I hold dear.  He begged for me to spare him, and I remember the old man’s cynical whimpers.  I’m not sure how I felt about this night, even today, but the body was hung upon their flag for the Rune Knights to see.  When I came home that night, I swore to myself never to exhibit that sort of anger again; I forbid myself from any combat related quests for God knows how long.