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Looking out towards the horizon. Its how I always imagined I'd go down. I can hear teh swish of the sea far below. It calls me, draws me to its depths. How easy it would be. To stop clinging to the small scrap of being that is my body. The sea is so incredibly inviting, the rocks below like teeth in a welcome smile. But how can I reach the sea if I bleed to death from my wounds? My heart lies, torn from my body, a few paces away from my hand. How small it looks. How fragile. And why are the hands I see not my own? They're... terrible. Sparse grey hairs cover where smooth skin once showed. My nails have become talons, stung, red with blood. How much longer is it until those younglings; the urchins and thieves that rob the dead, find me? I'm so far away, almost at the cliff's edge. Watching the wavse sway and swish, capped with foam. If I had emotion, I'd be afraid. If emotion lived within me, I would cry. And here come the thieves. Perhaps they won't notice and just pass me by. Perhaps I'll look like a dead beast so they'll leave me well alone. But no. One of them has my heart in his hand, examining it like a jeweller, looking for the fine lines, the cracks, anything that would make it worthless. Its no longer mine any more. My heart is gone. My soul tugs at the ragged wisp of my body. It wants to be free. And I find myself wanting to relinquish it. Be free, little soul. Fly away and away over the oceans until you reach home again. Can I live without a soul? Is that even possible? Does it really matter anymore...? The thieves have closed in, cutting the burnished armor from my body, scoring me further with wounds. How much more blood can I bleed without a heart? And what have they got there now? The shining light in his hands... it can only be one thing...
A soul, unable to be freed.
Like my heart, they have captured my soul, too. But what use have they of me? I am... a monster. A beast. What use has anyone for a beast?
They approach me with their daggers, and I see no more. My sight is gone with the entrance of those blades into my eyes.

I am a light that bursts forth in the darkness. I sing songs, I breathe life. But what am I? Nothing more than a shell. For how can one live without the heart to warm, without the soul to guide, without the eyes to see. How can I even call myself light? I am bleak, yet I bring joy to others. I am pure, but I smell nothing but death and despair. Will my sight ever return? Will I ever find the ones who stole the very essence of my being...?

I am falling. Plumetting toward the gaping maw of the sea. The thieves have taken what they need. Taken what they want. The treasures of my life, they've taken them all. And, like a needless husk, I am left to fall. I cannot even growl. My throat has been slit. Yet why am I still alive? It feels as though I'll fall forever. The wounds I have are deep. And still they bleed freely. Will I not poison the ocean with my blood? Gaze up with sightless eyes at the sun. The warming, purifying sun. What am I now? I can no longer see, I can no longer tell. What will happen to me? Why won't I die....?
There is one thing that the thieves have left for me. That is my memory. The beautiful, crystal clear thoughts I've had. And I can see... a great, golden wolf. Bounding across the plains. And with it... is a smaller one, half shaped like a human.
Me.
What happened to my golden eyed brother? Why did he ever disappear? Why? Because he was slain. The thieves came from over the waters. The thieves came and killed my brother. They killed all whom I loved; mother, father, brother. And now, they have come and killed me. My beloved friend, where did you go?
Crimson wolf. Fur burning in the light of the ever hungry fire. Burning teeth, tongues of flame, licking him, devouring him. Yet he never faltered. He never screamed. He was a rebel to the very end...
If only I could have died with him. The thieves found his heart once the pyre had burned down, but they never found his soul. He was freed. He saved himself and had returned home. Back to his home across the waters. I wish that I would be able to do that. To grow wings and fly. Skim over the ocean and over the lands. But no. I am only a beast. A demon. And my fate has already been sealed. Have I died yet? And when I have, how will I know? I can hear the water roaring around me, but I see nothing. They have taken my eyes. And I shall never see again.

I feel the fog enveloping me, feeling it seep into my very bones. Into all my wounds, into all my organs. What does it search for? I have no heart for it to cloud, no soul for it to defile. Perhaps it will leave me as I hoped the thieves would. How I ache for home...
This bleak world will become my grave. The dark depths of the sea.

What a fitting place of rest, for one who has lost the very essence of life.