Evening satin

A monk goes on a journey to find his heart, it had so callously been taken by the tribe of mercenaries that had butchered his village. Sometimes however, the spiritual path isn't necessarily a peaceful one. War is an accepted path, if the only way to find peace, is to start it.

As the monk walked up the mountain, his leg muscles sore after climbing a thousand steps. There were another 1500 to go. He didn't know what he would find once he reached the top. Would he find anything, or would reality unveil itself as a glimmer, a long lost dream that charades as reality. His sword by his side, blunt after the death of many an enemy, he had his sharpening stone with him, imbued in it, a poison that would render any contact with the blade a massive bleeding within. He found this torture of pain, an easy reflection to put aside, to walk with peace in hand, but war inside. His heart was torn, into a million shards, and he didn't feel there was any hope of restoring it to its glorious splendour. All he breathed, was war. The earth came undone below his soles. As he climbed higher and higher, the soil was dark and dead after his step. He didn't see it however, he was focused on reaching the top, and finding he hoped, peace. In mind, and in his heart that was shattering mountains with pain. 

A crow sat perched upon a desolate tree, 1273 steps below the top. There it visaged the monk, with a mighty aura around him, it twitched its head at the confusing sight, it was like a beam of light, that also shone darkness in pulses, emanated from the being's head. It flew away and disappeared with the winds, and no more did it think of the monk that was reaching the end.

As Scroll, the monk by name, felt his heartbeat push further with the effort of the climb, an echoing of the winds reverberated through his blade, it gave a saddened moan, the aftermath of the butchery of Tzang Qa village, as the ripples of the wind moaned against the worn blade, and the remains of his heart grew more and more fierce. His fist clenched out of habit, yet he willed it to relax, to focus on his monastery's training. He was a warrior, but he was also a monk. 

The End

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