Shatter Me - A KotLC Story

Alone

Gren slept in the streets of Mysterium. He sat in front of one of the shops, hoping someone would give him some money or even some food but they just passed him by.

People gave him weird looks, some even scoffed at him. Every once and a while, someone would ask what he was doing there, but, when he explained, they didn't believe him. They wrote him off as a kid skipping school.

He tried to find work, but no one would give him any.

One day, he walked past a produce store and an idea struck him. He slipped inside and browsed the large array of fruits and vegetables. As he rounded one of the corners he bumped one of the shelves. Several apples toppled to the floor.

He stooped to pick them up and shoved one down his shirt, which he'd tucked into his pants. He finished picking up the produce and hurried out of the store.

Dashing down an alley, he dropped onto his knees and scarfed down his stolen meal. From that day on, he realized that if he needed something, he had to take it.
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The goblin slammed Gren against the wall. "Where did you stash it?"

Gren glared at his captor. "I don't know what you're talking about."

The goblin narrowed his eyes. "Yes you do."

Gren smirked and willed his arms to shift density and he phased out of the goblin's grasp. Immediately, he bolted down the alley.
The goblin chased him only to lose him through a wall.

Gren chuckled as he sat on the ground on the others side of the wall, listening to the goblin bang on the crystal and mutter curse words under his breath. He smirked and pulled a gorgeous dagger from his pant leg. The sharp point had cut his calf a little, but it was worth it. He turned the dagger over and admired the delicate craftsmanship.

The blade was forged from pure Magsidian and the hilt was solid bronze with bright Balefire crystals inlaid into the hand guard. He could get quite the sum for this masterpiece.
————
Gren leaned against the wall and slid to the ground in defeat. He was too late. By the time, he'd collected enough money to get to Eternalia, Fintan had stepped down from the Council. Something about his ability being banned. Now, no one knew where he was. He had just disappeared.

Gren put his head in his hands. The last four years of his life now seemed wasted. He had tried so hard to reach the moment where he could look his father in the face. But now it seemed so far away again. He wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance.
————
The goblin collapsed to the ground in pain, clutching a sizable hole in his shoulder.

Gren backed away. He hadn't meant to hurt the goblin. He was just trying to get away. Then the goblin had lunged at him and before he knew it, his hand had solidified in the goblin's shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." That's all Gren could say as he bolt down the road and away from the scene.

When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he closed his eyes and tried to envision anything besides the goblin's bloody hand over the grotesque hole. But he couldn't. And each time the image arose, Gren felt a strange exhilarating burst of... joy? He couldn't explain it, but he felt like he was getting revenge for all the crap that he'd gone through, that other people had let him go through. He stared at his hand, the fingers turning semitransparent, and grinned.
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Gren felt the elf's beating heart as his fingers closed around it.

The elf, a man with slicked back blonde hair and almost purple eyes, stared at Gren in complete terror.

"Now," Gren hissed, "give me what you owe."

The man reached into his cape and emptied his pockets. "That's all I have. I swear."

Gren smirked. "Thank you for your... cooperation." He narrowed his eyes and his hand solidified, ripping open the man's chest, shattering his ribs, and tearing a hole through his left lung.

The man barely had time to gasp before he collapsed to the ground in a lifeless heap.

Gren stood over the body, holding the man's still heart in his bloody fingers. He crushed the organ for good measure and let the gushing pulp slip through his fingers to the ground.

He winced as he felt his fragile sanity crack. His mind was like a broken vase that he was struggling to hold together. The more he wounded and killed, the more his sanity cracked. The more his sanity cracked, the tighter he held on. And the tighter he held on, the more his fingers bled.