My flesh burned, flames raking across me from every angle. Unlike other forms of torment I'd encountered in the past hundred years, this was the pain of a real flame. Agony raced through my mind, alongside memories that were not mine. Flashes of my body acting on its base nature, attempting to ignore its hell. Attempting to obtain something intangible from those not bound by the curse of time. I could feel the blood on my hands, the pulse of another ending at my touch, the death I caused. But I could not recall why.

I know the body that acted in such a manner was my own, but I could not attach any of my thoughts to those acts. I hunted them, whoever they had been, my body easily overpowering any resistance they put up. They didn't stand a chance, not while alone, not without knowing, and certainly not against a hunter trapped in its own delusions. A city fell, and when soldiers came to end me, they perished as well. All slaughtered by my hand, but not by my mind. I wrought havoc across an inconceivable distance, the curse growing my strength faster than any of my kin. But WHY had I done it? I could recall flashes of my actions, I'd tormented people, torn them limb from limb, tortured them to find something in them. Yet I still couldn't tell what I thought while doing it.

I looked further into the memories, trying to see when I'd broken, when I stopped thinking and let my body act without a mind. I found my body, stepping out of the emptiness between it all, stretching, and almost instantly hurtling into a task. This was not it, I knew of this moment; I could feel my thoughts radiating from the memory. But what happened afterward was not how I recalled. I had gone to find another of my kind, to understand and free them, but what my body did was not that. The flesh stalled, like the being at the helm had left it without direction. It stood for some time, waiting or thinking. I could not tell; the memory no longer contained any thoughts, at least not any I could remember. Eventually, things took a turn for the worse, down the path that led to the flames surrounding my body now.

A single human happened across my figure where it stood, staring into the distance. At first, nothing occurred, my body did not move, and the human left in an aggressive panic. The sun set, then rose, then did so again before the human returned. This time he ventured with a group of about eight others. They were armed, blades drawn, their steps assured, confident, arrogant. I recalled the way they approached; they were cautious despite their confidence. They encircled my body, forming a ring where they could see every angle around me. They knew to act as a group and understood why they needed to do so, but this was not enough.

One of them stepped forward, his blade parting the air with practiced ease as it swung for my neck. Spirit radiated off his body and sword, the gaseous energy infusing every part of his strike, assuring he'd do significant damage if it landed. But despite the blatant act of aggression, my body didn’t react. I displayed no attempt to evade, block, or counter the attack in any way. A blow I would never let near my flesh cut deep into my neck, but failed to part my head from my shoulders. Black oily blood spurted from the wound, splattering across the man's astounded expression. His blade, lodged in my spine, radiated spirit, and from that, a change erupted across my body.

It was nigh instantaneous, even in my recollection of the event. My body moved, a clawed hand surging out and gouging into the man's face, splitting his skull in an instant. Ignoring what most would believe possible, my body stepped beyond the perception of the others. Taking the dead man's weapon in hand, it reappeared behind one of them with the blade already in motion, splitting him in twain. The weapon, mishandled with excessive force, shattered upon slashing at his spine. Magic lanced out from one of the remaining seven, and another stepped in to cut my body down. Neither of them were fast enough. My body twisted, the blood gushing from the wound creating an apparent trail behind a lance of ice as it whizzed past my face. Again, without care for shadows or anything else, my body moved. I appeared next to another of the combatants. A hand lashed out, grabbing at his chest, crushing his ribs with impossible might. My body tossed that man at the magic caster, turning the newly coined corpse into a deadly projectile of viscera and bone.

I knew that five remained, but I could tell that I wouldn't gain anything more from continuing to analyze this foreign memory. So I rushed forward, ignoring everything I'd done, ignoring the suffering I caused for what appeared to be more than a generation. I found the point when I'd broken, the moment I became no better than the monsters I call kin. Recalling such a moment provided me no assistance. So, I would look to the moments before I regained my mind, the moments before this hellfire seared my bones. Or maybe I'd have to look to the weeks before now, find the why hidden within another why.

My body sat on a shattered throne, in a mocking imitation of the king who'd once lost his head in that very spot. The room's stone was cracked with age, the cloth fixtures and carpets that once adorned the space long rotted away to heaps on the floor. It was the picturesque rendition of a long collapsed nation. Bones lay around, the bodies they came from no longer identifiable. A massive crack in the building showed the sky above, a cold sun shining its harsh light on the scenery beneath. My body acted not like the beast I anticipated, but like a man who'd grown bored from his routine. It did not lash out at the environment, nor did it sit motionless like a puppet with cut strings. These would be the actions I'd seen from others who fell to the madness of my situation. Instead of these things, my body picked at the golden metal set into the broken stone of the throne. It lazed like it was waiting for something or someone.

Eventually, that feeling was proven correct. It started first as the crunching of footsteps from beyond the room. The steady but uneven sound of several people walking across crumbled wood and stone echoed into the room. Said echoes punctuated by the occasional clink of metal against metal. Those footsteps turned to the sound of heavy breathing, subtly different from the strained breath of exertion, no. This was a pained breath brought about by an excess of tainted energy in the air. Eventually, the footsteps stopped, just outside the room, just beyond the eyes of my memory. Then came more waiting, the group who'd made the journey to this broken throne room unwilling to enter as of yet.

The entity using my body displayed patience, barely moving beyond its position at the sound of the groups' arrival. It sat, appearing to watch the door, waiting for the group beyond to take the few steps needed to enter the room. But the group did not enter. Instead, the sound of shuffling feet and bated breath returned to the steady crunch of feet on crumbling stone, leaving the area they'd just reached. This process repeated several times over the week. A group would try and fail to stealthily approach the chamber, stand around just outside of sight, and then leave without a word. Until finally, the patience of the entity in my body wore thin.

A group arrived, like all the others. Soft steps on the ground that refused to let one remain quiet, followed by an extended pause outside the door. Unlike the other times, the entity in my body did not stay still while they stood silently outside the door’s approach. This time it plucked a chunk of stone from the shattered throne and tossed it toward them, like a leather ball thrown by a child. The toss was simple, clean, and weak, barely enough even to dent the rotten wooden door on the far side of the chamber. Though the stone did no substantial damage, the clatter it made as it bounced across the rubble was sharp against the hush.

The shuffling of feet on the other side came to a halt. The heavy breathing stopped, an oppressive tension filling the air. Silence invaded the space, a tangible quiet so seemingly unnatural you could feel it in your gut.

My body stood from the crumbling throne, seeming to purposely draw out the motion, making plenty of sounds as it did so. It walked forward, the stone beneath audibly cracking with each step. Step by step, it moved, slowly, across the room to the door. Its actions no longer resembled a man; now, they retook the likeness of a beast, stalking its prey. Whatever was using my flesh, it wanted the group frightened. It wanted them to feel its approach and fear what would happen when it reached them. From these memories, I couldn't tell what the group beyond the door went through as my body drew closer. Nor could I tell how they coordinated what followed. But, they did not wait for my body to reach them.

A man in armor dashed out from behind the door, a sword raised high, his face obscured by a helmet. My body tried to step past his perception, but another stepped into the space, a woman whose eyes shined with silver light. The room solidified against my body's efforts under her gaze, stalling its attempt to end the charging man. A third stepped out beside the woman, a figure in black and green with a bow drawn aimed at the entity. They loosed an arrow, and it matched the charging man's attack near perfectly. Unable to evade both, the entity in my body took the arrow to the ribs to avoid the man's slash. A blow that would have crushed through my skull if it landed whooshed past my face, air blasting outwards under the force of the attack.

As the final person stepped into the room, a mage with a sacrificial staff in hand, I finally found the why. But a new question burst forth in my mind. HOW?