Journal - Genarius Jakis -

Found in the aftermath of the Mercenaries ambush -

Dear Huma,

I have come to stand in tall grass remembering the day I asked for your hand in marriage. I remember how shocked you were. As though the possibility was ever so fleeting. But what made the moment more memorable was the tears of joy you shed as I kneeled in front of you and your family.

My beating heart, I fear I may never see you again. My soul might travel on, for I could not deny my latest employer. His station was too high, and his wrath, if denied, would be the end of us. If you do not hear from me again, then know I have passed. For I was sent to kill a legend - an undefeatable foe.

I know how stubborn you are, remember when I tried buying that carriage. Oh, how adamant you were that I leave it there. No matter how hard I tried, or what sweet words I spewed, your stance was unshakable. I remember the way you looked at me with that exasperated look. How your beautiful green eyes twitched every time I said the words carriage and money. I will always remember that day.

Know that If I die, that I demand you move on in life. That you find someone to care for you and our child. If you not for me, then please, do it for our only one. He needs a father to teach him the ways of the world, while you need a firm hand to keep you up right when the many storms hit your resolve.

Know that in the last moments, whatever they may be, I will remember your love fondly.

Your Love,

Leader of the Golden Wings Mercenary Band - Genarius Jakis

The mental scape shattered and Azeal found himself standing alone in the center of the battlefield. All mercenaries dead, while Harold's entourage stood a far away. Warry of the stranger that he had become. Fear and awe rolled off them like massive tidal waves, attempting to devour him. But of them all, one had great pity for him. That single soul grounded Azeal. Helping him return, mentally, to the world he once panicked to return to. To stand in once again.

Now, he wished there had been no light in the absolute darkness that had engulfed him.

He looked down to see his sword piercing the belly of a single mercenary. The one death that caused him more pain than any other. He stood in front of the carrier of love he eternally removed from this world.

Blood and gore covered Azeal completely, a slow and deliberate rhythm of blood drops echoed in his mind. As he watched the body silently, his eyes slowly rose, until he met the dead eyes of the man.

They had no light, forever to remain darkened.

The mercenary had a scruffy beard, as though he had not shaved for a while. And hair cut short then spiked up in a wild parody of a character in a show he had watched long ago.

Azeal fell heavily to his knees. Bending his back forward, he cradled his helm, covering his face with his blood-soaked hands and cried. For he was the killer of a divine emotion, one filled with genuine passion. He did not know who that man was, but that mattered not to him. For his death was nothing but a product of circumstance! It didn't matter what his past was, for any carrier of love can be redeemed!

As he bawled, lost in his pain, a firm hand was placed on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Harold staring at the rising sun.

“I do not understand your pain,” he began, pausing to let his words mellow in Azeal’s mind,

“But always remember that death is not the end. It is a new beginning, to start over again. I do not know what your connection is with this one, but he probably was an evil man considering he was a bandit. Committing acts horrific, destroying men and women alike. Causing the living to die on the inside; their eyes no different than his now. So maybe he can redeem himself in another life. To make up for his many sins.”

Sniffing audibly, Azeal nodded, understanding that though he might have killed this beautiful soul, it will return one day to spread its love and joy again. Patting Azeal’s shoulders, Harold continued oblivious to the struggle he faced,

“Death is inevitable and killing even more so in our accursed world. If we do not fight, then we are silent. And silence is consent. If we do not stand in front of the evil that plagues the lands, then who will? Who would stand for the weak, the poor, the innocent, and the unfortunate, if not we? It is why I fight. Why I will never lose a battle; for I know that if I do, someone out in the world will despair at the storm the world throws their way. Unable to survive. So stand,”

Harold grabbed Azeal by the shoulders and pulled him up, hiding his struggle to lift him.

“Stand with your back straightened and never bent! For we fight for those that cannot fight for themselves! Have pride in that and continue to live strong and free.”

Turning around, Harold walked away. Leaving Azeal alone with his thoughts. Firming his strengthened resolve, he grabbed his great sword. Holding onto it for a while to remember this moment; etching it onto his mind. He will remind himself constantly of the carrier of love he had slain on this day because of his rage, because of his…

Because of his Blind Emotion.

“You lied to him. Falsehood spewed from your mouth without end.” Roland spoke with an edge to his voice. One thing that Harold knew of his dear friend was the need for honesty.

“I told him what he needed to hear. I could not let him fall into darkness and trauma.”

Harold was determined to keep the lie going on. He could not tell Azeal that the one he had killed was an honorable man. A kind soul that filled the world with light.

Looking into his friend's eyes, he did not find the usual softness and empathy they usually held. No, they were heated with anger and indignation. Something quite unusual for his calm demeanor.

“There are other ways to bring someone out of the darkness. You run a fine line, Harold. What will you do when he finds out who Genarius Jakis was?! Of the good things that he had constantly done!”

Hardening his eyes, he stared at Roland in silence for a period of time. He waited until his friend’s resolve wavered just a bit to speak. And after a few minutes, it did.

“I know the consequences and the outcomes are extremely dire, but you know not what I had seen.”

Pausing again to let his words sink in, he continued,

“He had the eyes of a broken man. I do not know what has happened to him in his past nor what his demons are, but they haunt him profoundly. I could not in good conscience let him fall into despair!”

Straining his hands, the journal he held, creek from the pressure. It was a small journal, with a cover that was completely black. And a leather strip that that bind it closed. The only thing on it that made it unique was the name it held - Genarius Jakis. It was filled with the world from his eyes. And a story of love that would make even the cold-hearted smile. It was a journal of a man filled with love…

“What of the book? What will you do with it? Will you run the risk of Azeal finding it?” Roland asked, unwilling to relent in his demand.

Harold stared at it, and spoke with solemnity, having come to a decision,

“There was no book found.”

Tossing the book into the burning flame they argued near, they both watched it burn; watched it turn into ash.