Solo Shattered Serenity

[Rodel Intaercis]

Breathe in. Rodel knelt on the cool hard floor of his room in the Shinyama Pavilion, eyes closed and head bowed. Breathe out. He let his mind drift while simultaneously anchoring it to reality. His thoughts fluttered from one sensation to the next like a butterfly between flowers. The touch of the cool night air on his face, the faint footsteps of people walking about the pavilion, the distinct sounds of weapon training down below… Breathe in. “You’ll never make it,” a voice called out from behind him. Rodel ignored it. Breathe out. “To them you’re like a sick puppy they brought in off the street. They may pity you but they’ll never let you be one of them.” Breathe in. “Why would anyone want a madman for a protector of the city?” Rodel’s serenity cracked as he clenched his hands into fists. His eyes were squeezed shut. Stars, he thought, focus on the stars. They are calm, they are eternal, they are— “You should leave, start somewhere new. All these people resent you, they just pretend they don’t. It would be better to be rid of them.” Rodel let out his held breath in a sigh. There was no way he’d find that peaceful place in his mind again, not now. He opened his eyes and rose to his feet, smoothing his robes. Without sparing a glance for the figure behind him he slid open the door and slipped into the open area of the Pavilion’s second floor, looking down over the first level like a balcony. Maybe a walk would succeed in clearing his head where the meditation had failed. He’d gone just under an hour that time with no interruptions. It wasn’t bad, but as long as Rodel was alone the hallucinations came more frequently. It was better than it used to be though, the unwanted denizens in his head had at one time scarcely left him to himself for more than a few minutes at once. Still, Rodel longed for the day he could be rid of them entirely. That was, if it was even possible. He trailed his fingers along the gilded railing as he strode to the stairway down to the ground floor. The figure followed, its shuffling gait scraping the floor with a sound only Rodel could hear. Another acolyte, Reagan, flashed a warm smile at him as she walked by. He returned the expression, offering a nod. She was real, he should talk to her. He didn’t, and they passed one another without a spoken word. “She’s hiding something,” the voice whispered. Unlike Reagan, the voice wasn’t real, not to anyone besides Rodel. It was to be ignored; at least when others were around. He passed through the Pavilion’s entrance, exchanging a few more nods with the familiar faces stationed there. The voice’s paranoid mutterings crowded Rodel’s ears. “Hear them talking? Hear their laughter? It’s probably about you. You’re a joke to them. You should leave and not come back, then they can’t laugh at you anymore.” “Fleeing is the coward’s path,” a deep, gruff voice sounded from Rodel’s side, accompanied by a tall burly figure visible only to his eyes. He groaned inwardly, recognizing the voice and form immediately. Two of them? Really? “They have insulted your honor. Let the ground be washed in their blood as they taste your retribution!” Rodel had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He’d never considered himself an imbecile, but the fact that such foolish apparitions came from his own head had forced him to reconsider on more than one occasion.