Navrah

I don't know who I am.

I do̡n't͢ kn͟o̡w w̴h̢o ͟I ̧am̀.

I҉͠ do̢͘n̨͝'͏̴t̕͢ ͏k͠n͏o͞w̶̛͢ ͡w̴h̢ó̴̕ I ̢̕͝a̛m̶.

Į̵͜ ̡̧̀ḑ̨͝o̵̧n̕͠'̵̶̨͟ţ̵̸̕͡ ̕̕͢͟͜k͝͏n̸̸̕o̵͘͠w̵̴͞ ̛̕̕҉w̸̵̡͠͡h̛͠͡҉͟o̧͢͜͞҉ ҉̵̷̡͡I̴̸̷̸̶ ̕͏̨̛a̶̕m҉̶.





Ì̛͎̰̥̼̂̈́̍ͥ̓̒̅̑ͣͦͩͧͭ͊̿͂͝ ̵̰͍̰͉̍ͭ̆̍ͮ̆̾̔̓̽̊͗̍̔͂͘͘͢͢d́ͧͫͤ͂̑̎ͯ̽ͫͥ҉̧̣̱̝̫̗̠̞̪̯͈̘̭͟ọ̞͍͍̭̄͒̈́ͬ̄̐̐ͬͦ͗̕n̢̧̛̽ͮͭ͂͋ͩ̈́́ͬͥͥ̔ͫͨ̑̅̇̚҉̬͓̦͎̙̥̭̱̫̪̰̺͚ͅͅ'͕̣̯̾͒̄ͮ͊̚͞͝ͅt̐̍̑ͧͨͣ̾̾͌̓̇͂ͤ̍̓̊҉҉̷̛̹̦̟͉̳͔̫̹̘̻̳͈̘ ̌̃ͪ͛̄̑͗̓́ͩ̇ͫ̋҉̳͙̝̺͇̳̪͙̫̱̯̯͍̬͉͇͡ͅk̴̢̙̝͓̙͚ͤ̂́̒́ͨ̾͆̍̅͑̓̔ͅṋ̳͖͉̺͔ͪ̈̓͗̓ͦ̐͌̀̚̕͝ö̝͕̥͔̣͉̊̄̎͢͞w̼̜͚͎͍͙͇͛͂͛͊ͮͯ͑̉̿ͮ̇ͥ̌̿͠͞ ̨̨̗̞͈ͩͨ́͗̀̆̐͘̕w̷̧̙̳̗͕̯̺̍̇̌͗ͦ̍̽̚̚͘͞͝h̶̢̢̦̳̩̠̙̼̦̞̳͕͇̦̊̋ͬͫ̾̄̽͊̈́̀ơ̴͍̫͎͈̻̗̳̼̮͇͎͎͔̙͚̳ͩͪ͛̉ͮ̋̑ͤ̈̈͆̓̐̾̽ͧ̀͘ͅ ̸̨̭̝̬͇͉̩͂̉̂͌̓ͪ̊̚Ḯ̷̢̛̻͇͍͍͙̲ͪͬ͐̎ͬ͗̽͂ͤͫ̓ͣͩ͋̿͂͆́̕ ̵̧̂̋͆̈̂́̈ͯ̈̓ͭ͆ͯ҉̟̬̜͔̰̳̜̻̻͙͇̭̥̩̫̪͡ą̗͔͈̼͈̩̰̠̱͇̮͉͓͔̓̈́ͦ̌́̒̒͆̏ͨ̎̉́ͫ̏͊̒͛ͯ̀̕m͕̹̺̳̜̙̹̭͉͉̱̼͑̅̔̓̀ͯ̿͌͂̿ͤ̓͂͆̅̑̚͜.





Who are you?

---

A pathetic, lingering soul, just barely able to even exist.

She speaks with a voice so thin and raw, you can tell that her soul is seeping out of her with every word. She has no form, no life she once owned, and now she can only take on the forms of others as a defense mechanism.

She was once trapped within the soul-filled blossoms of The Garden of Souls, numbed with the lullabies of Muse, what felt like a hundred years of nothing. Nothing. Like what she has left of her memories.

Upon escape during the civil war, as a dragon took a suicidal chance to release the garden Wraiths, the spirits of the garden were disturbed, and they released themselves. She took in a gulp of nonexistent air, as she realized she was free.

The moment of bliss though, wouldn't last long.

She heard the whimpering and shrieks of the monsters behind her.