Disclaimer: I do not own Luminous Arc or any of the characters in this story. I do own the idea though, so don't even think about it.
Perhaps it was too soon for me. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so enthusiastic about joining the army. Perhaps I should have died that night itself, when the golems came, and spared everyone the agony, especially myself.
My hand hurts. It feels as though the cold came and tickled it with hot, licking flames of ice. There is mark appearing on the Engine, like a shadow of a bruise. Somewhere deep inside, I want to scream, but my mouth is bound and gagged by my pain and large doses of morphine. I can see blurred shadows of nurses fluttering about me, talking about how little time I have left.
"You might consider getting rid of that thing quickly, you know. Remember Steiner's fate?" She said to me that warm, stuffy night. I was feeling hot, and angry that Ayano could suggest such a thing when people were dying wherever I looked. A son. A husband. A daughter. A wife. So many identities wiped out in so little time, and she had the gall to say to me that I step away from the one thing that allowed me to stand beside the Witches and fight my hardest.
It wasn't being a Master that I loved. It wasn't the love triangle I found myself in. It wasn't the parties and the suits and the glory that came with being a Head of State. I simply wanted the power to protect everyone. Or so I thought that night. I'm just another human being, increasingly corruptible and increasingly fragile.
It hurts so very much.
Althea came to visit me today. She almost screamed when she saw my face, pale and taut from suffering. She told me that I looked grey, that my face and hair were almost the same colour. That scared me just a little because I didn't know that pain could change you so much. I smiled at her feebly and tried to reassure her that I would be alright.
"Don't look so frightened. I'm going to live. I promise." I said to her, trying to hide how parched and cracked my throat had become. She smiled at me.
"Of course you are. You've made it through worse, right?"
I nodded. What a liar I've become. I wasn't going to live. This was a promise I could not keep. So why am I trying so hard to stop those tears from flowing? So close to death, I should not have to worry about something so trivial. Yet, I cannot bear that sight. Seeing Pop offer me the crab jerky she had saved up. Seeing Luna give me some rare water from a spring in another country even though she knew, and I knew, that she wanted it far more than I ever would. That they wanted me to live despite my being only an average Master, knowing that I am but a weakling and a fool. I've never found myself in so much angst. Is it because I'm dying, or because I've lost the courage to face my death?
I do not know, and I doubt I will ever know.
A/N: I do intend to edit it provided I receive genuinely constructive criticism. If you hate this story, or love it, or have mixed feelings, or whatever, drop me a line, but tell me why you feel the way you do. I will disregard any flaming, trolling and rudeness that does not lead to actual input regarding the story, my writing and its improvement. Thank you for your cooperation.
Title comes from Latin saying "Requiem aeternam donna eis, Domine", meaning "Grant them eternal rest, O God."
Word Count: 520