Introspection

Part I: The Black Serpent Sheds Its Skin

It happened when I was only a boy. The day of 'The Ourous Family Massacre.'

As the break of dawn hesitantly crept up the horizon, it illuminated the desolated scene, that scene had strength for infinite miles, in every single direction. The once lively and bustling clan village, nestled amidst the calm and welcoming forests and hills, now laid as a flat plain, shattered in ruins, left as only a broken reflection of its once lively nature. The clan homes that once stood tall and strong were no more than charcoaled skeletons, the once white pristine walls were now black and brimstone-like pointing up to the sky like a finger accusing someone in a courthouse. The air that day was so heavy and bleak, the suffocating stench of smoke, mingled with the smell of rotten flesh burning with a glaze of blood marinating over the corpses. This nauseating meal had resonated with me since that day, that smell still clung to the landscape of the former clan village.

Within the carnage of stood a figure, the figure was me, I stood there amidst the chaos, I felt as if I was a beacon of light surrounded by darkness. I was the lone survivor, Kamari Ourous I was weaker back then, my features were more drawn, and haggard with my grief-stricken face and exhausted body felt lift as I contemplated the horror with eyes that had seen too much at such a young age, I had to witness atrocities' that no child or person should ever have to see. My once loving and warm eyes, that had been filled with limitless hope and dreams of optimistic youth, were now void of any light and curiosity, they were now dull, and haunted. The once sparks of life that helped my flame burn had been tarnished by the tragedy I had endured.

I would from then on move slowly, the people who take deliberate steps as they carry the weight of the world on their backs. Each of those steps echoed like a siren singing a mournful song of despair through the thunderous roar of silence through the village ruins. The ground beneath my feet was littered in the filth of debris spread across the floor, the maze I had to navigate of broken glass shards and tetanus inducing metal rebars sprouting up from the ground like wildflowers. I weaved through them, even stepping on some class shards, and scrapping up across some of the metal rods, I was consumed by the thought of Why? And What could have been if...?

Those memories started flooding my mind, unsolicited with their painful clarities, each one felt like venom being injected into my bloodstream, constant reminders of everything I had lost that night. I saw the faces of my loved ones: friends, family, neighbors, their smiles all frozen within time and tattooed onto my eyes. I could not escape their smiles and laughter; their memories played like it was recess throughout my mind. I saw the flames that consumed all their homes, and the screams of the innocent as they were engulfed by monstrous flames that rampaged throughout. I had to listen to the agonizing screams of those who had been taken from this life too soon. I saw myself for the first time this would be one of two times I ever did, I stood there, alone, amidst the chaos and carnage of my former home, helpless, my hands stained with crimson dye, or known to most as the blood of the fallen.

It was a sight that would haunt me for the rest of my days, it was a nightmare that I could never truly wake up from, I would always be trapped in this horrible infinite Tsukuyomi. I was the lone survivor of this massacre, I had been spared the cold embrace of death, and yet it still never felt that way as if death would have been merciful. Even though I was left alive I felt like a ghost wandering through the desolate ruins.

Even from that immature age, I knew it was not the physical devastation that weighed me down so heavily on my soul and mind, not even the deaths of my loved ones. It was something far more nefarious and insidious that began to eat away at me, deep within the center of my core. It was the knowledge I was truly isolated and alone, undisputedly alone. I was left alone in a world that had been torn apart but mindless violence and hatred. I finally realized that I was the sole and final remnant of a once vast and mighty clan, a clan that had been wiped out off the face of any map in only a mere matter of hours. It was that understanding that I must carry the deep wounds and scars of the tragedy with myself until the end of my life. The constant reminder of how easy shattered the joys of life can be taking from oneself and the cruelties of fate.

I stood in the wake of my former home, the ruins rushed into my mind, leaving heavy stains. I felt a sense of emptiness begin to manifest itself within me. I started to lust for the feeling of human contact, for the reassuring warmth of an embrace of another person. With the simple pleasures of happiness taken from me, left with none to comfort me, to share my grief, not even a person left to witness my endless wake of suffering.

Stood there, stood there alone, a solitary hollowed out silhouette figure in a world that had been stripped of all beauty and sense of gentle kindness. I was a survivor in a land of death, As the first of the stream of tears began to cress own my face, I, Kamari Ourous decided my journey would not end here. I knew my new path would be long and dangerous but, I could not waver from it. I couldn't allow myself to be consumed by despair for I am the sole survivor of the Ourous Clan, I wouldn't rest until I found a way to fill the sense of emptiness left in my being, and to find meaning in the midst of this madness I've found myself in, to reclaim my life that the desolate world had robbed from me.