My Own Legacy

My ears rang as my blade screeched against the stone block. I needed my weapon to be sharp as a glare for what was to come. I come from a long line of superhumans, each more powerful than the last, and my father wanted me to keep that trend going. I remember the earliest years of my youth, completely consumed with training. At four years old, I had my first lesson on combat. At five years old,  I had my first fight. My first fight with my father anyway. He landed a blow, a blow that felt nothing like the intensity of love I thought I knew a year prior, right to my stomach. His power is ice. I didn’t know ice could burn so hot, until that day. Now, I am 17, and that burn still remains. Or maybe it’s the heat of my sword, I can’t tell anymore.

Speaking of my sword, it’s sharp enough now. I get up, staring at my reflection in the shiny metal. I hope that one day, I’ll see the strong man who carried on his fathers legacy, and not the weak, disappointing child with one friend. God, I hope I win this. If I don’t, who knows how father and Darian would react. I put on my armbands, tightening the straps. Darian’s been my friend since I was 10 years old. I remember the day we first met, on the beach. Father had sent me to a secluded, supposedly unvisited, ocean-side. I was supposed to practice my flame-freeze technique. But, as I was training, I heard a shriek, and then the sound of running. I whipped around, expecting a battle with an enemy. What I didn’t expect to see was a boy, about my age, practically gliding in the sand. He was looking at me, his big, brown, nearly yellow eyes staring at me with silly fear. I full-body flinched when he picked me up and booked it, even faster this time. I swear, I punched that kid so hard once he did that. Turns out, Darian is deathly afraid of crabs, but he loves the water. He was trying to “save me”, his words, not mine. He had put me down, apologizing repeatedly, a big bruise on his cheek. I was stunned, I didn’t know what to do. I had never met another boy my age before. He noticed I was so hesitant, and calmed himself, asking my name. I told him to tell me his first. He owed me, since he “picked me up and practically tried to kidnap me.”, it was only fair. He let out a little laugh, and gave me his name. Then I told him mine. He said my name was pretty, and I told him his name sounded stupid. He just smiled. 

We spent nearly every day together at the beach after that, which, for the record, I tried to stop. I didn’t know where he came from, or who exactly his family was. But, I suppose I never revealed mine either. He didn’t seem bothered though. Like a dog, he kept coming. And, for some reason, I kept coming too. Darian was like electricity, shocking me with this energy of a toddler who got a piece of candy after begging for an hour. It was infectious. I started to smile, I started to lack. Thankfully never enough for my father to notice, but now, I’m not so sure. If I lose this battle, I will lose my father. He will not tolerate loss. And what would Darian think? No doubt he’d practically interrogate me, and if I told him what I was, what powers I had, where I came from, he’d see me as a monster. He’s kind, incredibly kind, but there’s no way I’ll get to keep him as my friend, my… whatever, if I fail this. 

I shake myself out of my stupor. The time has arrived. I steel myself as my father walks into the room, and strides toward me. He’s tall, and dark. His shadow looms over me, and his eyes, his bright blue eyes, pierce my soul. I can feel his judgment. “Zavir, I see you’re prepared.” I nod. I try my best to train my eyes on his lips, or his nose. Never do I look at his eyes. His eyes burn. “The enemy has been spotted, down by the ancient field. Find your way there, immediately.” I nod once more, muttering a curt “Yes sir,” and turn to walk out the door. But, as I am about to walk through, I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. The presence behind me is so hostile, it screams at me to run. “Zavir. Do not fail me.” His hand burns. It burns with warning, caution, and a little bit of misplaced love; but not for me. I feel his love for a battle, his passion for a fight, his belief in his cause and his legacy. That love burns right through me, like the hot, unforgiving ice of our first fight. All I can do is nod, and hope that he lets me go. 

I dash through the great, sturdy birch trees. Their leaves hang like nooses, ready to grab me and rip away my air, or my destiny. I don’t know which one is worse. One of the branches hangs so low it scrapes my shoulder, and I can’t help but compare it to whatever injury I'll sustain during this battle. A scrap is the least of my worries; I could end up losing my entire arm if I don’t play this right. I let my mind wander, thinking of strategies and possibilities, especially possibilities. I seriously need to win this.

I arrive on the ancient battlefield. My boots sink into the dusty, arid soil. This field is the most sacred of places to my family. It is where we first made war with the enemy, it is where my father has spilled countless gallons of blood, and now, it is where I hope to do the same. I walk forward, cautiously centering myself on the field, when I spot him. In front of me, far in the distance, I see him. With a height identical to my own, black lightning cracking up his arms, and a mask that covers the entirety of his face, as does mine, he walks onto the opposite end of the field. I tense, speeding up my pace. We’re both silent, the only sound between us being our deep breaths and our heavy steps falling in the dirt. We stopped, nearly a yard away from each other. I raised my swords, lighting them on fire. He raised his hands, little lighting bolts crackling in his palms. And after what felt like an eternity, we charged. The last thing on my mind was the thought of the absolute bloodbath this field was about to be stained with. 

My breathing is labored, slow, and raggedy. Everything hurts. It feels like my nerves have been fried and my muscles have been torn, but I am alive. The hero’s son, StormStriker, is on the dusty soil. I did it. I’ve won. His blood is mixed with the dirt, making a clumpy, ruby-red concoction, and the skin surrounding his stomach and arms is burned and bruised. The only thing left is the mask. I get up, stumbling over to the limp body that is barely breathing. I will reveal his identity, return his head to my father, and finally please him. Finally, just this once, I’ve actually won something, and now I can continue my family's legacy. I’m still loopy as I pull off the mask, I can’t wait to go home. Maybe my father will let me go freely to the beach whenever I want, with Darian…

Big, brown, nearly yellow eyes stare back at me. Those beautiful, electrifying eyes, they’re staring back at me. They look dead. He looks dead. Darian- my Darian, he’s looking at me like he’s dead. I drop to my knees. My heart is at my feet, and his heart is bleeding. I rip off my mask, and those eyes look up at me, a faint look of surprise washing over the face that they belong to. And then he smiles. That damn smile. The same one he’d give me when he’d play his loud, metal-rock guitar. The same one he’d pass me when he knew he nearly had me laughing, for once. The same smile that looked back at me when I had to leave, my ‘training’ coming to an end. That same smile that shared the same mouth he would use to kiss me, urge me to swim, try to convince me his mom wasn’t so bad, scream at me in warning because a crab came too close, it’s right in front of my face and- I’m ripped out of my thoughts as Darian tries to make a sound. Blood sputters out of his perfect mouth, staining his perfect teeth, trailing down his perfect jawline. I tell him to shut up, to stop moving. I tell him I’ll get help, that it’ll be okay. His smile wavers. He reaches his hand up, placing it behind my head. I feel him pull me close. I feel him trying to lift his head, and I feel his perfect lips brush against mine. And then I feel him die. And then I start to scream.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here. My eyes burn from crying. I want to rip them out. His blood is all over me, I’ve been holding him for what feels like an eternity. He still isn’t up though, he never will get up again. I’ve robbed him. I’ve robbed my Darian, my best friend, my- my lover. I’ve robbed him of the right to live. My hands have burned his gorgeous tan skin, my eyes have frozen him to death with desperation for parental approval. My destiny has hung so low, too low, like the branches of the birch trees. It has scraped his broken body into the abyss of eternal sleep. He’s never coming back to me. I’ll never see him at the beach again. I’ll never hear him play his guitar again. I’ll never get to properly make him my boyfriend. I’ll never be able to give him white roses and sunflowers for our anniversary, I’ll never get to feel his touch, I’ll never- I’ll never. I’ve won the battle. I’ve carried on my family’s legacy. My father would be proud of me, for once in my life. I’ve finally gotten the thing I’ve always worked towards. But at what cost? At. What. Cost.

My eyes drift towards my discarded, blood-crusted sword. Then back to Darian. Then back to my sword. Then back to Darian. On shaky legs, I get up. I gently set Darian’s head down on the soft, airy dirt. My eyes have settled on my sword. The walk to my weapon felt like a year long journey and a 5 second sprint, all in the same moment. Time is funny now. I wrap my hand around the hilt, and this time I seem to teleport right to Darian. Right by his side, as I was always meant to be. Not a villain, not a superhero, and not some man’s disappointment. Darian’s. I was always meant to be Darian’s. And I will forever be Darian’s now. I raise the deadly blade to my neck as I take in all of Darian’s features. Those beautiful, nearly yellow eyes, stare back at me, dead and cold. Those warm, strong hands, burned. The dusty blonde curls, the tanned skin, the scars that now adorn the body I’ve once mapped-out under moon-lit nights; I take in all of it. It’s hilarious how I was so consumed over a selfish man’s nonexistent approval, when this beautiful boy was right here. 

I press the blade deep into my neck. As it slices across my skin, blood gushes onto my body, and my head lands on Darian’s chest. My mind feels light, free. Amongst the dried blood, I catch a spot. A piece of the sword, somehow untainted. It reflects a child no longer, but rather a frozen face, fear replaced with peace. I finally conquered my biggest fear. I no longer worry about the barely-reachable approval of my father. I find that love is not something I need to earn, but something that is unconditional; found deep in the calming yellow, instead of being ripped out of the cold, unforgiving blue. I hold onto the love and approval I already have; I’ve always had. My mind once again wanders as I fade, fade to a place of sunflowers and white roses and beaches. There are ethereal songs that would have been interrupted by screams from Darian due to a crab eternally crawling on his foot. But no, I’m his guardian now. No crab will ever touch him. I feel myself, carrying Darian, running away from the same crab that dared be on the same sand as him. The sun is so bright, casting a glow on the sea. It’s magical. Just like Darian. I turn my head and look into his big, brown, nearly-yellow eyes; and he smiles at me. I smile too, and I realize that I’m finally… happy. With my own legacy.