It's worthless. Completely worthless like it's always been. And it won't change, it's too late to change.
Why did he waste his time chasing after something that doesn't even exist? Searching for an imaginary treasure? Now he's here, a hopeless, lost existence, and all he has is blood on his hands and regrets in his mind! Nothing he's ever done was good for anything, past heroism is forgotten and its results only temporary! The battles he fought and won, bought the victory by his blood, flesh, and bone, are lost in the flow of time, and their results don't matter.
Athran stared at his reflection in the mirror, his vibrant azure eyes, long black hair and bare chest, white skin covering the muscles. A face so fair, yet a body so scarred... The white lines of scars appeared almost like a map, crossing with each other countless times. His right hand, clenched around the hilt of a long dagger, arose.
He could do it. He could do it and end everything forever... And nobody would ever find anything but a dead elf in an old inn. But was it really the solution? Death in such desperation? He was a warrior. And warriors don't just give up... It would be a shame to even die like this! It would be the definite surrendering to fate, the end of all strife, and all his effort would be for naught! He was trapped here, ever without any hope. Was there any escape from this hell? Hell of his own mind?
"Why... WHY?!" he screamed, banging his fists onto the mirror. The glass broke and its shards skewed into his skin, cutting it open, but he didn't pay any attention to them. "Why can't you just take me on the battlefield where I won't feel nothing, no remorse, no pity for myself? Do I emerge unscathed every time just for you to torment me?" He collapsed onto his knees, covering his eyes with his hands. The tears, streaming from his eyes, mixed with blood and
flowed down his face.
How did he even get here? When did he stray from the path to salvation and fell into the dark? Where did he make the wrong turn? He couldn't remember when his life turned into searching for something that he can't find, when it lost all purpose and turned into endless wandering. Was there even anything he could search for, anything worth living for? He had no one left... His sister thought him maddened by bloodshed, his mother rests beneath the ground and his father... His father has forsaken him many years ago.
"No son of his will wage war just for the sake of fey hunger for blood and revenge for what cannot be changed! Elesian! Curse the day you said it! Curse you, and curse me, too, for I am of the same blood!" Following Elesian's path was the last thing he wished - to be like the father that threw his own son out of his door? And still every one thought better of him. Athran could never be as much as his father, no matter how many times he bested him in battle, in deeds, in anything a warrior could achieve. That it's not of deeds, but of pure heart and a kind spirit? Those were only lies... Everything around was lies and illusions, love and compassion was only a disguise for disdaining pity!
No matter how high was the price to pay, he would do anything to find something to aim for. Something to strive for... To find a goal, a reason to live.
"But there's nothing! NOTHING! THERE IS NOTHING IN THE WHOLE VAST WORLD!" It's only ash and barren rock, hidden beneath a veil of enchantment, that makes it seem beautiful. "And I can't even end this, because it won't solve anything!"
Blood tears fell from his eyes, dropping onto the broken shards of glass. His whole body shook in suppressed sighs, clenching his teeth and fists to stop crying like a child.
There was no giving up, not for him, but to cringe in neverending torture was a nightmare that doesn't end with the rising sun.
