A diary in crimson.

[Karunzo]

Birth

Day 1.

At long last my mind is free from the blinding haze that has clouded my thoughts for so long, my thoughts are my own again. The voice that has whispered to me so oft, that has guided me down this dark path that I have taken, appears to have vanished as I failed to sate the dark cravings of my weak body. Though I am still sore from the severe wound I have inflicted upon myself, I can now finally begin to heal. Perhaps in due time this dark seed in my will be exterminated by the flames of justice. I can only hope.

I may be getting too far ahead of myself. I found this old journal in the attic of my shelter, an old abandoned inn. Now that I have regained control over myself, I shall use it to try and regain clarity of mind. Mulling over my own thoughts might grant me the answers to the question that rampages through my head: “What will become of me?” If not that, it should, at the very least, provide me with some comfort.

Out here by myself, I am painfully aware of how terribly lonesome I actually am. The only friendly face I have seen since my arrival in these woods is the face of the sun as it greets me with every morrow. Yet it cannot be helped, can it? I am a traitor, a worthless nobody. I destroyed the house I built with my own hands, tore down the very foundations of my life as I chased after a dream. And for what? - Not even the taste of the sweetest nectar can cleanse my mouth of the sourness of my predicament. Though I suppose it may be worth a try – No, I shall not for it again. My salvation does not lie with that blasted concoction. I need to get it out of my system and out of my mind.

Like water cleanses the body, so does fire purify the soul. I shall bathe within the flames of righteousness and rid myself of this damned addiction that torments me so.

Day 3.

I spent an entire day meditating but it seems like the claws of darkness will stop at me nothing to try and drag me down again. No matter how hard I try to purge my thoughts of that vile potion, I cannot help but recall the events that lead to my downfall. Perhaps there is wisdom in this, there must be much I can learn from this experience. If all else fails, I shall reflect upon my demise to find new ways to rise again but for now I thread along the path of redemption.

As meditation has failed to raise my barrier against the stinging pain of my own weakness, I shall have to resort to more drastic measures. I can no longer rely on my own body, the body that was given to me at birth. Therefore, I shall have to be reborn. I have already abandoned most my old life, I might as well abandon the rest while I cling on to what little life the vile concoction has not drained from me. It is not like my past holds anything for me. My brothers would destroy me if they found out what I have been up to, everyone else would despise this damned image of past glory. No, I shall not return, not now, not ever.

I have shed my mortal trappings and destroyed the last remnants of my old life. As I rose from the flames of rebirth, it dawned on to me that I shall need a new name to go with my new life. From the remnants of a nearby graveyard I read the name: Adrian. It will serve me well.