Heathen

Endymion II

Endymion's POV

I got up and picked my sword from the ground, throwing away my breastplate and helmet. I have no use for them anymore. I quickly inspect my wounds. They are almost completely healed. Some of them are not even a scar. I discard the dressings as well.

Looking around me and seeing nothing but death, I decided it was time to move on. A second chance was given to me. Instead of my life ending here, I can go on living, see my family, my loved ones again. The thought made me eager to go back home. It did not cross my mind even for a moment that I may not be able to go back to my life before all of this.

I started my way back with a small smile on my lips. I walked for a while and reached our abandoned camp. Nobody was there. None alive. The devastation for both armies was complete. I remembered now how we almost killed off each other completely. It was a massacre for both sides.

I am ashamed to admit that I rummaged through the belongings of my comrads for anything useful and coin. Yes, coin. They had no use for it anymore. Everyone who went into battle already carried with them the two pieces of silver they needed for their passing to the other side, in case they died. Everything else was just loot for the scavengers. At least, this is what I thought to ease my conscience.

A shining caught my eye. A small mirror was on the ground, half broken. I picked it up and looked at my shattered reflection. My 23 year old self was looking back at me with a thoughtful expression, some sadness in my eyes. I noticed that their deep blue colour was now stained with specks of red, like blood. My black hair were a little longer, unkempt and matted. It made sense though, I was on the battlefield for days. I noticed something on my neck: a thin silver crescent scar was subtly visible where the Goddess had bitten me, marking me as her own. It looked almost identical to the one the girl had on her wrist. I let a sigh out. 

I continued to inspect my face. My lips seemed fuller, maybe their colour was deeper. Or maybe it was the contrast with my skin which seemed paler than usual. I licked them, suddenly parched with thirst. I traced the inside of my mouth with my tongue. I was caught off guard with the sharpness of my teeth. I bit myself accidentally and the metallic taste of my own blood made me feel strange. I had a foreign sensation in my mouth, like my canines were more prominent. I took a deep breath to control myself. They retracted. 

What does that mean? I became a monster? I was panicking. Does this mean I have to drink blood? 

I do not want to accidentally hurt someone but the thought of tasting blood, even though it scares me, excites me at the same time.

I was standing with the small mirror in my hand for a while, contemplating the consequences of what I had been through the last two days. But none of these things could dull my most basic human needs: I was thirsty and I was hungry for actual food. It was after all almost two days since I had my last meal. I had to look for something to eat. I let the small mirror fall from my hand. It shattered to even more small piece sending back multiple reflections of myself. It felt like an omen.

How many lifetimes are ahead for me?

After looking around and gathering anything edible I could find, I left the camp behind and took the way home. I walked for days. 

Finally, I reached the outskirts of the city where my family 's residence was located. The sun was setting again. I was famished, my throat was dry and I was covered in dust. But I did not feel tired at all.

As I neared the house, I felt anxious. The news from the battlefield would have already reached my family. Maybe they believed I was dead. I had to be careful not to scare them.

I stood outside for a while. And then I saw my parents, my siblings and my maternal grandmother exiting the house. I followed them from afar, covered by the shadows of the night.

They went to the family shrine. My siblings knelt and left offerings to the Gods of the Underworld for my passing. They were crying silently. My parents were holding each other. They seemed devastated. Witnessing their grief, I felt tears welling in my eyes. My grandmother though was retaining her composure and kept looking around discreetely. 

Maybe she is sensing my presence despite the news of my demise. 

She was known for her acute sixth sense.