Blessing? Or Curse?

First Reincarnation of Many

Throughout his first life, he learned the cold truth about life. He always compared life to a flickering candle flame; left alone, the flame could burn strong and bright until its time was up. But it was rarely ever left alone, and something as small and simple as a breeze could easily snuff that flame out, never to burn again. As someone who had snuffed out many of these flames during his lifetime, he knew all to well how weak and small the flame of life was, and he had always done his best to keep his small flame lit, to burn strongly as a light in the ever growing darkness of the world.

Now, at the end of his life, he knelt on the ground of his castle, clutching his gut as spasms of pain rocked his body, blood and vomit covering his face and hands as he failed to stop himself from coughing and hacking, he realized he could no longer protect his flame. He looked over to his right, seeing his two eldest sons lying dead on the ground, having passed from the same poison that was currently wrecking havoc inside his body. They lie in their blood and vomit, eyes wide with fear and arms wrapped around their stomachs like they could hold their deaths back. His eyes shut tightly in pain as he groaned, the poison doing its job well. When he opened them again he looked this time to his left, seeing his youngest son. Unlike the other two, his youngest stood there, smiling as he watched his father and brothers die a slow and painful death from the poison he had given them.

"William...", he managed to whisper, forcing himself to stand up and look his youngest son in the eye with what little strength he had left. "Why?"

William's smile vanished, replaced by a sneer of pure rage. "Why you ask? Why would I poison the people who made my life unbearable! My brothers, who would torment me every night, beating me and laughing as they whipped out their c***s and pissed on me. And you, you who always claimed to treat us equally, yet never saw my mistreatment. If I was as big and as strong as my brothers, I WOULD STRANGLE ALL OF YOU!"

Emperor Felix Talon, a man who had started a rebellion and overthrew the corrupt king to lead this land into greatness, was at a loss for words as his life slipped away from him. How did it get this far? How did he not notice his youngest sons mistreatment and resentment? Why did William never tell him any of this? He was ruthless when it came to battle and war, but he always thought he showed his sons the love and attention they needed. Was he wrong?

He would never get an answer to these questions; he knew he was almost gone when the pain started to fade away. He reached out towards his son, William freezing in place out of surprise; he probably never thought Felix could still be standing after being poisoned this long. William shut his eyes, accepting whatever punishment was in store for him, but Felix simply cupped his sons face, feeling nothing but regret.

"I...am sorry."

Those were the last words of Emperor Felix Talon, who then fell to the ground hard and died, his flame being snuffed out at last. His first life ended at the hands of his own son, and he thought he would either join the other warriors in the great beyond, or be sent into the abyss for all the flames he himself had snuffed out. Either way, it was no longer in his hands.

But fate had a habit of turning ones expectations inward on themselves. Felix had no way to know what was in store for him, no way of knowing that a snuffed candle flame could be lit again just as easily, if done by powers beyond his understanding. The next lesson he would learn would be a harsh one; that a candle flame that would never truly go out could be much more cruel than a flame that was easily snuffed out.

He suddenly became aware that he was conscious. He tried to move and found that he could barely move at all, and that everything was black even though his eyes were open. He felt like he was being smothered everywhere at the same time, and he did not have the strength to move these invisible walls that pressed against him. He could hear sounds, but they were muffled and he could not make them out. Suddenly the invisible walls compressed against him, making him more uncomfortable than he already was, and it felt like they were pushing him in one direction. Completely confused, there was little he could do but wait until it was over, and he was brought into the world for a second time.

The air was cold, making him shiver, and the light hurt his young eyes, making him squint in discomfort. When his eyes finally adjusted, he opened them and saw a large man's face inches from his. This startled him, but he found that he could do little about it; it took all his energy just to move his little arms and legs, and his head felt much heavier than it should. The man, who had a large nose with a long brown mustache to match, chuckled and spoke to him. It was an alien language that he could not understand, but the man sounded happy, and was even tearing up.

He put all his effort into turning his head until he saw a woman in a bed. The woman had hair as black as the night, with dark eyes to match. She was panting and sweating, looking extremely relieved. He had seen this sight three times, and he finally realized that he was a baby, and that the woman had just brought him into the world. As the man laid him onto the woman's chest, her soft breast making him fall asleep quickly, he had a lot of questions on his mind. How did this happen? Is this what always happens? Why does he remember his last life so clearly, as if it all just happened recently?

As his baby and toddler years slowly went by, he did learn a few things. The first was that he was no longer a man; she had been born a woman. Her parents had named her Josephine, a pretty name that did not bother her. As she slowly grew, she began to learn their language, and knew why it sounded alien to her; it was a language she had never heard in her first life. This meant that she was either very far away from her kingdom, or that she was in another land entirely.

Her first years of life were uneventful; her parents seemed to be at least middle class, as their clothes never had tears or excessive stains, and they never lacked for food. She realized that she must have seemed an odd child; she rarely cried or complained, and obviously understood things beyond what she should at her age. It was at the age of nine that her life began to really get interesting, starting with her doing something she had been waiting to do until she had a good grasp on this new language.

They had just finished dinner when she stopped her parents from leaving the table. She gestured for them to sit, and after sharing a look they obliged; after nine years of her odd behavior, they had grown accustomed to it.

"Mother, Father, I have something to tell you.", she began, growing slightly nervous for the first time in her second life. Her parents shared a look before nodding again, smiling at her.

"Go ahead dear; we are listening.", her mother said, easing her nerves a bit. She took a deep breath, steadying herself before continuing.

"This...is not my first life.", she began, trying to think of how to word something that sounds so mad. The house made a creaking sound as the wind howled outside like an angry beast; it was a stormy night, setting a mood she did not want. "I lived a life before this one, as Emperor Felix Talon, and I remember it completely. I apologize if I seem odd compared to other children; while I am a child, my mind is that of a grown adult. I know I sound mad, but I am deadly serious, and this is not a fib or wild story thought of on a whim."

She breathed out, waiting to see how they would respond. Most would laugh it off, seeing this as a child's imagination gone astray. But her parents did no such thing; Josephine was caught by surprise when they both slowly embraced her, and she could feel their tears fall upon her little shoulders.

"I...you are not mad?", she asked, not expecting this response. They pulled back, shaking their heads and drying their tears.

"No little one, we have no reason to be cross with you.", her father began, grinning and making his long mustache stick out, "It sounds mad, sure. But it would explain a lot; how you rarely ever cry or complain, how mature you are, and how you seem to understand everything."

Her mother then placed a hand on her small shoulder, smiling brightly at her. "Sooner or later, we would love to hear all about your past life. But, past life or not, you are our child; no matter what, we love you."

Josephine was speechless for a minute, letting their words sink in. She suddenly felt her eyes begin to tear up, her emotions swelling forth at that moment as she quietly cried, her parents holding her, Josephine whispering ,"I love you too.". She had parents in her past life, but they were poor and were concerned with surviving the next day. When she started her rebellion against the king, they refused to join her, scared of the consequences. They were hung anyway, just to try and hurt her, but they had never shown her much love in the first place; she was just another mouth to feed.

When she regained her composure her parents leaned back, her father grinning as he placed a hand on her head and ruffled her hair. "Josephine, since you are more mature than anyone your age should be, tell me; what would you like for your birthday? I fear anything I pick might seem childish to you."

She needed no time to ponder the question; she was a warrior, and she was denied the right to die like a warrior before. This must be her second chance to live and die with honor, and the answer was already clear. "I would like a sword."

Her father raised an eyebrow at this, surprised. "A sword?"

She nodded, smirking at him. "In my past life, I was a mighty warrior who had never been defeated in battle. I might be a woman this time, but I still want to live with a sword in my hand."

Her mother giggled at this; it probably sounded more cute than prideful coming from a nine year old girl with long black hair and a tiny frame. Her father grinned again, chuckling in amusement. "A sword it is then; it will have to be a small one, as you are still a child, but I will see what I can do."

This filled her heart with joy, and she set out getting ready to use a sword again. The instant she was done with her studies, she would go about strengthening her body, lifting anything that had weight and helping her father with any manual labor needed around the house. The months flew by, and while she knew she would not get super strong at her age, by the time her birthday rolled around she could feel a difference. Her arms had the beginning of muscles to them, and she had less of a struggle with lifting buckets of water and other heavy objects.

Her father kept his word; on her tenth birthday he opened his large chest and pulled out a small object wrapped in a small cloth. He handed it to her, and she eagerly took it, her small hands trembling with excitement as she pulled the cloth off and gasped in awe. It was a small sword; barely the size of a short sword, with a slender yet thick and durable blade. She cheered, embracing him as he chuckled with glee. She would then train with the sword after her studies, adjusting to the smaller sword and her smaller frame; it was still slightly heavy for her, but after a few months the weight got lighter, and she could easily take some of the adults when they sparred with wooden sticks. These times were the happiest of her second life, and she wished they would never end.

Her wish did not come true, and she was hit with a splash of cold reality. Six months after she had received her sword, she was in the forest near her village, practicing her form. In just six months the sword felt like an extension of her arm, her years of sword play from her previous life making it come to her much faster than it had before. She finished and stood there, panting and grinning to herself like a fool, before sheathing her sword and heading back to the village; dinner would be done soon, and her mother was a good cook.

She knew something was wrong before she reached the tree line; the smell of smoke hit her nose, freezing her in place for a second. The villagers never burned anything large enough that she would smell it out here, and she found her feet moving faster as she raced towards the tree line. She reached it, and her eyes grew wide as she saw half of the village alight with flames. She could now hear faint screams along with loud laughter, and she knew what was happening; most likely a bandit raid, targeting a weak village with no soldiers to defend it. She suddenly grew worried for her parents, drawing her sword with a hissing sound as the metal blade left the leather sheath. She ran towards the village, the sound of cracking wood from the flames assaulting her ears as smoke assaulted her eyes and nose. A villager ran past her, so frightened he did not even notice her presence, before tripping and hitting the ground hard. He spun around, scooting back as a bandit slowly walked towards him; he also did not notice her, as he was fixated on the villager. He was a man of medium height, wearing a dirty black pelt, having a long dirty brown beard, and wielding a common long sword.

The villager, named Jacob if she remembered correctly, cried out in fear, covering his head with his hands and closing his eyes. The bandit chuckled, walking over and lifting his sword to end the man's life.

Josephine's body moved by pure instinct, her mind clear as she charged the man and thrusted her sword. The blade found it's mark, hitting between his ribs and sinking through cloth and flesh alike. The bandit froze, looking down to see a sword now piercing his chest. She wasted no time, pulling it out with a trail of blood before slashing upwards, hitting his arm under his elbow. He grunted in pain, dropping his sword, and attempted to charge her. He did not get far; her first blow was mortal, and he fell to one knee, looking down and seeing blood pour out of the wound and color the dirt a crimson red. He looked at her, seeing a small black haired girl, before falling face first into the dirt with a thump and a puff of dust, dying.

Jacob opened his eyes, gasping when he saw the bandit dead and Josephine standing there with a bloody sword; most of the villagers thought she was just playing at being a knight, not realizing how serious she was. "Josephine....you..."

"Now is not the time.", she said, flicking her wrist and splattering the dirt with more blood before looking the man in the eye, "Grab a weapon and fight back; do not willingly give your life without a struggle. Life is worth putting up a fight."

He gaped at her, probably thinking himself mad; she sounded like a grown woman just then, not the ten year old girl she was. Josephine turned and ran again, wasting no more time with him; it was up to him whether he was willing to fight for his life or not. She heard more screams around her, and nearly ran into another bandit when she rounded a corner. Relying on pure instinct she stepped to the side, leaping up and slashing the man's throat before hitting the ground and continuing her sprint. She did not even bother looking back, but he did not chase her, so he most likely died clutching his throat as his life poured out of him.

She reached her house, skidding to a stop in front of it. The house was not on fire yet, but two bandits were there, turning to see her and grinning with pleasure at the sight.

"Well looky 'ere; we got a little girl to play with. Not as old as I would like, but old enough."

Her expression grew serious and she pointed her sword at them, allowing herself to feel the anger that she had been holding back until now. "Look here, two big dumb morons for me to play with. Move aside, curs, unless you too want a taste of my blade."

That got them going; they roared in anger, rushing her at the same time. She knew they had the advantage of numbers and strength, but she had skill and was smarter; an even match in her opinion. She danced away from their initial blows, trying to keep one of them in between them at all times in hope the morons would hit each other while she was slashing and stabbing at them, making sure to be mindful of her distance as well as surroundings. She might be a child, but she had a lifetime of combat on her side, and it quickly showed. She would get a cut and stab here and there, nothing mortal but enough to make them bleed and tire, while they could barely attack without bumping into each other or the buildings around them. She avoided their blows with ease, making them more angry and thus causing them to make more mistakes. She just needed to wait for a good opening; once one of them was down, it would be simple to kill the other.

Her moment suddenly came, one of them swinging his axe downward with all he had, roaring loudly with anger. She avoided it, neatly stepping out if the way, and the bandit staggered from the momentum, losing his balance. She grinned, charging him to strike; this was a feint. As she suspected, the other bandit suddenly attacked, thinking her caught off guard. She quickly showed him the error of his thinking, ducking beneath the sword at the last second. She felt the wind of the blow move her black hair and play with it as she thrusted upward, her sword sinking into the man's throat.

She tore it out, blood spraying everywhere as the bandit freaked out, dropping his sword and clutching his throat in a vain attempt to stop the blood. The other bandit regained his composure and looked over just in time to see her charge him, her grin spread from ear to ear as she went at him with no fear; this is what she lived for. The sight spooked him, and he raised his axe to block before she struck; a mistake, and she stabbed low into his gut. She quickly pulled her sword out and dashed to the left, the bandit groaning and clutching his gut with his free hand, and she charged again, trying to get him to swing at her.

He did, panicking and striking out with desperation. She ducked it again, slashing his arm as it passed; she hit an artery, spraying blood all over herself and making him drop his axe. She slowed her breathing, walking towards him as he fell to his knees, not knowing which wound to be more worried about. She stopped in front of him, his eyes growing wide with fear at the sight of her.

"wh-what are you!"

She grinned, leaning closer and grabbing his hair with her left hand. "Listen well bandit; I am Emperor Felix Talon! You wanted a taste of my blade? THEN HAVE IT!"

She drew her arm back and plunged her sword into his eye, the hungry blade sinking past his eye and into his brain. He twitched once before dying, Josephine kicking his body off of her sword before flicking the blood and brain matter off onto the dirt. She took a deep breath, turning towards her house; she had to remember that she was Josephine now, not Felix.

She ran into her house, looked around, and froze when she found her parents. Her eyes went wide, and she nearly dropped her sword; they both lied on the ground, blood everywhere from multiple s***h wounds, eyes wide open in fear but with no life. She was too late, and they were dead. She felt nothing but numb at first, her mind trying to accept what it was seeing. She actually had parents who loved her this time. Why were they taken from her so soon? They did nothing wrong. Her empty, numb feeling was quickly replaced with a seething rage she had never felt before; she screamed out with anger, turning with her hands shaking before charging out of the house; she did not feel the tears fall from her eyes as she did.

A bandit was kneeling over his fallen comrades, looting their corpses. She roared, charging him with a blind rage she had never felt before, slashing and stabbing at him. He was completely caught off guard, screaming in terror as she hacked at him until he died, blood flying everywhere. She panted, seeing movement out of the corner of her eye and swinging towards it, seeing more bandits. Without thought she screamed again, charging with a look of fury upon her face. She should have died that night; there were still plenty of bandits left, and she was small and would quickly run out of stamina. But she was saved by two things, one being how surprised the bandits were when a ten year old covered in blood charged at them screaming her head off. As she was attacking, the second reason for her survival arrived; Jacob, along with the rest of the villagers still alive, charged without warning, wielding farming tools, and attacked the bandits. The bandits, expecting little to no resistance, were caught completely off guard. It was violent and bloody, but after nearly half an hour of fighting, the bandits all lie dead on the ground, their blood pooling together to make a large puddle of corpses and crimson, the light of the fires dancing in the reflection of the blood.

...

The next morning was met with the sound of horses as a group of soldiers rode into the town. They pulled to a stop, surprised at what they saw; they expected to see nothing but the aftermath of a bandit attack. Instead they saw a pile of bodies in the center of the village, the villagers gathering wood to burn this pile. Most of all was a small girl, sitting on a crate in front of the bodies, covered from head to toe in blood and bearing her sheathed sword across her legs.

The soldiers were speechless, save for one who moved his horse to the front and dismounted. He walked over to the villagers, all of them stopping their work and turning towards the man. He had the best armor of the group, and was obviously a higher rank than the others.

"Greetings. We had received word that your village was attacked and were sent to investigate. To my surprise, I see that the attack was thwarted, and some of you yet live. Who speaks for you?"

The villagers exchanged glances, saying nothing for awhile. Just as the soldier was growing impatient Jacob stepped up, scratching his head. "Sir, the village elder died during the attack. As for who speaks for us..."

Jacob bowed his head, pointing at the small girl. "I am ashamed to say that if not for her, we would all be dead. While we were giving up, she fought with a strength and fury I have never seen. It was seeing this that gave us courage to fight; it is her whom you should speak with."

The soldier looked at the girl in complete awe and disbelief. He slowly approached her, taking off his helm and kneeling down to her level. the smell of corpses and burned wood filled the air, yet she seemed unfazed by it; his eyes met her black ones, and he saw anger and fire in them, making him smirk.

"So I am to believe you are the reason these bandits lie dead?"

The girl scoffed, scowling at him and surprising him. "Believe what you will; I could care less. They killed my parents; their deaths were to swift if you ask me."

The soldier blinked slowly, then laughed loudly, surprising villager and soldier alike. "Well said. Tell me, little one; what is your name?"

She sighed, standing up and staring him dead in the eye with pure pride and courage. "If you must know, I am Josephine Yetilla; and I am not one to be trifled with."

The soldier nodded, standing up and putting his helm back on. He did not expect to come here and find a small girl alive, let alone the rest of the villagers; yet here he was, and he had a feeling that things were about to get more interesting with this girl around.