Always, Dear Wolf
There's a myth among gamers.
It is said that Death was nothing but an old friend of those who roamed endlessly between the borders of the Rift. Born out of solitude, and forged in realms constructed by sin, the day came when the weight of his obligation couldn’t be withstood by himself alone. So, he took a mangler of past crimes and mirrored his own existence with such resolution, that two different beings emerged from the affair: a lullaby, in the shape of a lamb, made for those who wish to part from this life as equals, and a distortion, resembling a wolf, that would forever haunt those who do not willingly go.
Might seem a bit too farfetched to believe such an illustrative idea of the way we will meet our end, but once you see the silhouette of Death waiting for you on the other side of the road, you either take a step forward or unsheathe both swords. Some say that you see your life flash between your eyes, almost as if your brain is desperately trying to find a memory that will root you to this existence. Sadly, I wouldn’t know, since I have a nasty habit of selling all my good memories, so I can replace them with guilt and sorrow. But I still remember the orchestra, taking over my thoughts and muting all other voices, almost daring me to acknowledge a peaceful demise.
The Lamb and The Wolf.
The only fairy tale that makes sense — the only one worth believing.
Those days are long gone, but the symphony never goes away, not ever since that instant. And on those quiet nights, I can hear the tempo increasing, the violins down-bowing their staccatos, and the thrill of the hunt being called upon. I know that those aspirations promising a peaceful and quiet passing are long gone — the silhouette doesn’t frequent my dreams anymore. For now, I see it in the shadows, forever chasing and growling at me. I hear it drawing near, breathing on my back, and craving a small taste of what is close to happen.
The hunt has started.
However, old friend, you better be prepared this time, because I am not going down so easily. I will squeeze every second of time I have left in this borrowed skin. I will endure the pain that comes with age and past decisions. I will push my body further way past the finish line and into the victory lap. I will tear every bit of my sanity and lay hate upon those who wish to take me, for I am not fading away. This time, I am not taking the easy path.
I’m sorry. I truly am. But you had your chance to reclaim my fate voluntarily, twice if I recall correctly. Yet, the third time is the charm, and I hope you sharpen your teeth and your claws because you will find it difficult to reclaim my soul.
From now on, you better put on one hell of a show, because I’ll be waiting for you, dear Wolf. Always.
