birth

[Intro ]{"introduction Time":"8s","Instrumental":"bell"} [Part 1 - The Weight of Victory] (Flow: slow, reflective, voice low and weary) They say I won. But victory feels like this? An empty hall, a dull sword, hands that won’t come clean. I drove the blade into the last chest, heard no cheers, only silence. That cold that seeps into your bones—deeper than any abyss, sharper than any betrayal. When Marcus fell, his eyes still looked at me. No hatred. Just something I couldn’t read— until later, I understood. It was disappointment. The trust I killed with my own hand, blinking its last. Lena’s dagger slipped from her hand. She didn’t dodge. She just said: “I know.” I once grabbed Marcus’s hand at the pyre. It burned my flesh, but I didn’t let go. “We made a promise,” I said. Later, that same hand held a torch outside my door. “They offered too much,” he said. “You understand.” I understood. I still had to cut that hand off myself. Darius knelt before the temple, not praying. “I don’t believe in gods anymore, but I believe in you.” He blocked the killing blow with his shield, blood splashed across my face, warm. Later, his shield pinned my chest. He stood among the crowd, eyes closed, muttering the prayer he taught me: “Let justice be as light.” I carry those faces with me now. Every step, every breath, every night. They are not forgiven. But they are not forgotten either. [SFX: Strings swell, mournful] [Part 2 - What They See] (Flow: steady, bitter, building tension) What do they call me now? Butcher? Tyrant? The monster worse than the demon king? Children sing songs in taverns about a madman who killed all the heroes. But I didn’t kill heroes. I killed traitors. They don’t care. They only see the blood. They buried Marcus in the temple cemetery, carved into stone: “The loyal mage, who gave his life.” They forgot he was almost burned at the stake— I saved him. All they remember is the trial where I executed him. I stood outside the cemetery gate, no flowers in my hand, only a sword. The words on the stone glowed white in moonlight, like the edge of Lena’s blade, back when she sharpened it. They say justice is light. But light is so cold. It gives no warmth, only shadows trailing behind, a black river where all the faces I ever knew float silently. Someone asked me if I regret it. I regret it. Not that I killed them— I regret that when I saved them, I didn’t see the seeds already planted in their eyes. I regret giving my life to people who couldn’t even recognize their own vows. [SFX: Bell tolls twice, like a heartbeat] [Part 3 - What’s Left] (Flow: slow, heavy, then spoken) What’s left? A dull sword. A body covered in scars. A name no one dares to speak. And hands covered in blood that won’t wash away. I tried rainwater. River water cold as ice. The scabs peeled, new skin grew. But when I close my eyes, I still see that face. Still hear: “I know.” I walk down empty streets now. Everyone watches from behind windows, through boards, through bolts, through fear. Mothers tell their children: “Don’t look.” They fear me like they once feared the demon king. But I defeated the demon king. What I got in return was the throne of another monster. They ask me if it was worth it. I say yes. Because the traitors are dead. The vows are cleared. But is the world better? I don’t know. All I know is justice cost me everything— and I have nothing left to pay. [SFX: Strings fade, bell tolls once in the distance] [Outro - Spoken] (Spoken, hoarse, fading) They wanted a hero. They got me. They wanted justice. They got blood. Now they have their peace— and I have this silence. (Footsteps fading. Wind. Silence.) [End]