War.

What is it good for?

Giving me the world, that's what.

Not that the world is exactly what I want. Until the Great Wall fell, I was content with the Outside, but now that idiotic President Grant brought it down, hoping to make what they believed to be flat into the globe it actually is, my plans have changed. Now, the Inside is available. New pickings for one such as me.

I sound like some sort of megalomaniac. If I was another listening to my thoughts, I would be worried. Afraid, even. It's not that. Not at all. I have simply seen the demise of everything that is good in the world. Hope is fading. The creatures are spreading. Now, the Insiders have created this war.

I may as well use it to my advantage.

My reflection, I see, is disappointed in me. It expected more. It should have known better. If my own other self does not know me, who can? Not I, unfortunately. The whirlwind that is my mind spins it in innumerable directions, and I must grasp at the thoughts and ideas flung out from the central core. I try to coalesce them into coherence, but it is not always successful. So, control of the world would allow that. My mind would be settled. I would be settled.

It's them. They're the cause of my mental disassembly. All those who have gone before. They haunt me. Taunt me. Mock me. I'm so much weaker, they tell me. I should be strong like them. A leader. I try to ignore them, but they are incessant. They are a constant drone in my ears, like a tinnitus that's more a dirge than a ringing.

The only way to be rid of them and be fully myself, is to become what they insist I am not. For that, I require nothing less than everything. Perhaps I sound as if I ask too much, but I know it is the only thing to satisfy them.

Until recently, I had no direction. I was an aimless branch, fallen from its tree and carried by the will of the river I'd fallen into. I had no plans for glory or domination. I had only my constant headache. Them. The Multitude. I wandered without goal, working here and stealing there. My shoes were worn. My feet were blistered. My clothes clung to me like flaking skin. I was avoided by those I came close to, so I made sure I wasn't seen. Not unless necessary or too late. It was a life. Not much of one, but I was alive, if not living. Never alone, thanks to them, I was still lonely.

And then...

I had taken refuge from a storm in a hollow that was desperate to be a cave but had yet to eat its way sufficiently into the bluff side. Still, it was better than the shelters I'd been forced to build when I traversed the mountains. There, where heights were sheer and surfaces were clean of plant life, I was often reduced to huddling into the smallest ball I could make, holding onto anything to not be lifted by strong winds. The cavity was a luxury compared to that. Soaked, I shivered while the winds made me feel as if every part of me was turning to ice. Though I knew it to be dangerous, my exhaustion pulled me into a series of broken, fitful dozes. During one, the storm relented, so I was woken by, not the thunderous cries of the sky, but voices.

I peered out to see a company of soldiers milling around a central fire not far from my shelter. My instant fear was that they were searching for me. I hadn't seen the need to disguise my path, but I had done more than my share of things I was not proud of in the name of survival. Had I gone a step too far and a price had been placed on my head?

I listened carefully to see if my name was mentioned, or any indication I was the subject of their march. They spoke of a war and of dark creatures that infected by bite. The spoke of the Great Wall's demise and how its collapse had opened a doorway to a world they were unprepared for. Two men separated themselves from the main group, moving to a vast field of red flowers. I hadn't recognised it when I first arrived, as my vision was limited by the hammering of rain against my eyes. Now, it was unmistakeable.

The Fields of the Fallen.

Carefully, I moved closer to the pair of soldiers. They were sitting just inside the perimeter of the field, seemingly oblivious to their location. None of the others indicated they saw the flowers either, and something I had always believed to be a myth was proven to be fact. Not everyone could see the field. It was said it would only show itself to those who were to become a part of it and, as I watched, I saw the soldiers hold hands and share a kiss.

Then they dissolved as if turning to ash, an appropriate comparison given their company's name, the Ashen.

The remnants of the soldiers settled and new, crucifix shaped blooms sprouted from the spot they were sitting. The Bones of the Dead. Among the Bones, I saw other, equally red, plants, and I had an understanding of the field's effects. The mushrooms were not tall enough to be easily seen between the accompanying flowers. I wondered if that was a deliberate ploy by the hallucinogenic fungus. I also wondered if their effects could reach the distance to me, and my perception of the soldiers was warped. Everything else appeared to be as it should, though, and I'd had experience of such flora in my long abandoned youth. One couldn't always believe what the eyes showed. Still, I was too far away. What I was seeing was real. The soldiers had dissolved as I watched, before becoming an integral part of the Fields of the Fallen themselves.

None of their companions noticed their demise. The Ashen were already assembled in preparation for the forthcoming trek.

They continued to whisper about the war and the creatures. I knew nothing of either. The Wall had come down. I assumed the war would be between the Outsiders, such as myself, and those from within. It appeared their battle was with something much worse. Something I had yet to encounter. I needed to find out more.

Why this piqued my interest, I couldn't say. I didn't welcome conflict, and certainly did not plan on engaging in any. If I turned and resumed my travels, moving beyond the mountains to where the sea snakes were so aplenty they wove between your feet as you walked along the Getheren Sea's shore, I would be away from anything dangerous. It wouldn't be a cowardly move. It would be practical. Realistic. Self serving only in respect to self sacrifice.

The soldiers, however. They were The Ashen. Even I knew of them, legendary as they were. They were fearless, and would face any enemy down without flinching or retreat. And they were consistently victorious. In battles, they could move as if chaos coursed through them, yet still they acted as one unit. For them to show fear in any form was unheard of.

Yet, they were.

I had done things in my past that did not sit well with me, but necessity often led down paths darker than would normally be tread. I fell in behind the Ashen as they began to march, keeping a necessary distance.

They strode at a pace I found myself struggling to keep up with. None drew extra breaths or faltered. My belongings were meagre, but their packs and weaponry were designed to keep each of them fed and protected for extended periods. I admired them. I almost wished I had their might.

Perhaps that was what kept me with them. I wanted to learn. Watching them would give me guidance useful on my journeys. I had escaped previous scraped only barely previously. Luck had been with me when I stole breads from a baker who came close to slitting my throat. I still had the scar.

Granted, I had also taken an amount of gold from his cellar, and several bottle of wine. The blade was excessive, I thought. I'd only punched him twice. Maybe three times. It was not my fault he woke up.

If I could learn from the example of The Ashen, I might be able to take the blade and use it myself. Cut their throat, perhaps before I attempt the theft.

Necessity, you see?

With difficulty, I managed to remain close for the first few miles. The terrain was uneven and on a permanently uphill incline, so eventually I began to fall behind. The storm had gone, but it its winds were revisiting to remind us it hadn't gone far and might be back at any moment. The Ashen were unaffected by the buffeting and I felt as if I was getting their share. A gust swung in from my side, causing me to stumble. I had no choice but to pause and regain my breath.

I contemplated giving up. Did I really need to know where they were going? Did I care about these monsters?

Yes. I did.

My previously flaccid disposition had been invigorated. Here was something new that, however frightening it might be, might lead to excitement. Education, certainly. I pushed myself to my feet and hurried on. The soldiers were out of sight and I knew I'd have to be swift to catch them up.

I had taken only a few steps when something hard hit the centre of my back, knocking me back down. I rolled over just as something landed on me.

No, not something, someone.

Or... a someone who was a something...

Hands were around my throat. Its own throat was emitting a cracked growl. The creature must have been one of the monsters the Ashen were so afraid of. It had once been a person, but now...

I rammed the palm of my hand into the... what had they called it... zombie? I rammed my hand into at the zombie's chest and felt the skin move beneath my palm, under the shirt it wore. A dark stain quickly spread across the material, soaking it. Removing my hand, I grabbed its wrists, trying to wrestle them away from my neck. My grip slid upwards, taking flesh with it and exposing the gelatinous mess that should have been its arms.

I felt bile rising in my mouth and desperately swallowed it back down, burning my throat. When its right eye, already bulging, fell onto my cheek and its mouth opened wide to show blackened teeth and a blacker tongue, there could be no more swallowing.

I vomited, managing to turn my head so as not to choke on my stomach contents. When the puke touched its hands, they began to hiss as if burned. The creature pulled away and I twisted violently to throw it off, being only partly successful. A long knife was on the ground a short distance from us. It wasn't mine, so must have been the zombie's. I scrambled for it, clutching at its closest point, the blade itself. As my hand wrapped around the metal, I felt the edge slice easily into my palm. My blood made it slick, so I had to hold tighter, only increasing its depth.

I was losing the sensation in my hand, though there was no pain. I had to hurry.

The zombie had been briefly unsteadied, but had righted itself and started pressing my face down into the ground. I could feel it leaning in, preparing to bite. To infect.

I let go of the blade and snatched at the hilt while it was still in the air. I swung my arm around with all the force I could muster with my hand's strength ebbing away.

There was a strangled cry, abruptly cut off and the zombie's body fell limply against me.

I closed my eyes, gritting my teeth against the rapidly intensifying sting in my palm. I was panting, and it wasn't until I had regained my breath that I opened them again. I turned away from both my expelled guts and the monster atop me.

And looked directly into the dead eyes of its decapitated head.

I admit to screaming. I panicked, throwing the zombie's body off me and lurching to my feet. I backed away, unfocussed and unsteady. It took me a few moments of blurred dread before I could finally look upon the atrocity.

But...

There was no monster. No mangled body. No torsoless, rancid head.

There was a man. An Ashen. He was on his knees with one hand on the ground, supporting him. The other held his throat. Blood was seeping through his fingers.

"W... Why?" he groaned, his voice bubbling as more blood spattered from his mouth. "I... help you..."

I...

I...

I was mistaken. It wasn't one of the monsters I'd heard the soldiers speaking of. It was one of the soldiers themselves. He must have seen me fall, or seen me following them and come back to...

To help.

But, how could it be? How could...?

The Fields of the Fallen. The mushrooms. I thought they couldn't have reached me. I was safe. If I had been, then I wouldn't have seen the Bones of the Dead or the two soldiers sharing a lovers' farewell kiss.

The knife was still in my hand – my uncut, unharmed hand. I had never seen a blade so keen. It beckoned to me, whispering of the glorious deaths it had wrought.

I swallowed, but this time it wasn't vomit. It was, and I could genuinely taste it, glory.

The knife wanted me. It held such promise. Together, it told me, we could be, not more, but everything.

The fallen Ashen had tried to help me, and I had, somehow, bested him. That proved how the knife and I were destined for greatness together.

The realisation awoke something in me. At first it was a murmur in the furthest reaches of my mind. It grew to a thunder, shaking my very teeth, then suddenly, I recognised it. Them.

I recognised me. All the versions of me that had ever existed. I had been here before, I realised. So many times. So many lives and deaths. So many ghosts of the past desperate to occupy me. Control me. To tell me why they were so superior to me.

But they were wrong. They are wrong, and I shall prove it.

The effects of the Fields of the Fallen stay with me. Rather than distort my reality to show me monsters where there are none, it shows me the opposite. It shows me truth.

The truth of everything.

So, now, I walk amongst the deceivers. They don't see me. They don't see or hear the Multitude. They only see the uniform and, as they should be of the Ashen, they grant me a fearful respect, never questioning my presence.

The soldier who came to my aid did help me. Perhaps not in the way he had intended, but nonetheless, he did. I took his life and his uniform.

He gave me my life.

Or, with the Multitude, our life.

Here's my entry for the final round (6.0) of the LayethTheSmackDown Multigenre Mashup Smackdown!

The prompt was to write from the POV of the villain, featuring three genres (fantasy, horror, LGBTQ+). I had to include references to three images and be under 5,000 words. My wordcount is 2585.

It's been such a blast following these prompts and continuing the story of The Source. Don't worry, I'll still be writing it, and know where it's going. The prompts were such a great way to give me the nudge, though!

Congratulations and good luck to wdhenning who joins me in the final! Read their entries on their profile. You won't be disappointed!