The cycle remained the same, but my actions were not my own. My blade felt heavier with each battle. I did not recognize the shadow attached to me. I did not recognize myself. Did I even know who I was to begin with? The shouts and pleas of my enemies reverberated in the air. My skin burned, and my heart pounded harder than a hammer striking an anvil. My head… my head was filled with a dense fog. I was present but lost. My adversary fell to the ground gasping for air. I fixed my eyes on their face, and a breathy, animalistic snarl escaped my lips. It lingered in the air like a haunting song. Beneath it, was that laugh. His laugh. I fell to my knees, staining them in the crimson that had pooled beneath my boots. I dropped my sword and lifted my shaky hands up to my eyes. The fresh blood ran down my fingers, forming a tapestry in the palm lines. I saw his face in the pattern, felt the weight of his hands on my shoulders. On my mind. I screamed.