My heart. She is the one voice that ever allowed me to feel. Actually, she's the only voice that pushes for me to feel. My Mother. I loved her. She was the one beacon of hope. I never liked my father. She left me with him. Left me with him and her voice. Her voice that tells me I should feel. That I should listen to my heart. But it's so hard when I get scolded for feeling...

Severity and Heaviness. My father. The one who taught me how to fight. He taught me how to bottle up the emotions my mother wanted me to feel. He taught me that they were useless, that they only resulted in pain. And he made sure I learned this. For every time I attempted to cry I was punished. He is the voice I hear when I need to protect myself, or when I'm starting to feel. He is the most disapproving voice, for apparently I'm always doing something wrong. He is the source of the few insecurities I have. The source of the pain that still floods my veins when I start to feel.

My darling. A voice I rarely hear in my head. In fact, I know she's there when there is silence. She was a mare around my age. One which I'd tried to take in under my wing. Tried to protect her. I didn't really feel for her. But she was there when my emotions broke the surface before being shoved back under in harsh tides. I didn't fight hard enough for her life. I didn't pay attention to the other stag. He had a death wish. He was killed not long after he murdered the poor equine. She never had a chance. Poor. Yes. I called her poor. And I do mean that in a caring way. And no. You will not hear me speak like that again. Emotions are bad. They cause pain. If I had let emotions surface for the mare then I wouldn't be able to live with myself. Instead, I talk to her when I don't know what to do. She is my confidante.

Evil one. He is the one who dared to kill Liebling. He taunts me. He pretends that he can get under my skin. And when he brings up her death he does. He can get under my skin. But I don't let it show. He tries to get me killed. He tries to mess up my fighting. His whole goal is to end me. Constant bickering can be heard in my skull between him and Schwere. The two most disapproving voices. The ones that make me kill. The ones that make me... who I am...

explanation of the relationship

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explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

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explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

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explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

explanation of the relationship

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I've killed many, lost few, and gained voices over my life. This section is not for the faint of heart, for you will be hearing of the loses I have had and the ways in which my voices appeared. Some of these stories are painful. Some are gruesome. All are a source of just exactly who I am. So beware. Pasts do make you who you are today. But if you lose your soul while reading this - don't worry your pretty little self, you'll probably end up living on in my head...

I had a relatively normal birth, a normal family. I looked normal, minus the glass horn and hooves. But I didn't realize they were different until I lost both of my parents. Though, that is for later. The first part of this which I will dare to go over is how I first realized that I could hear voices of the dead. My mother was killed in the night. Father always called her Innerste. But that is beside the point. She was killed by a cougar, yelling at me to run. I ran. Ran as fast as I could, as fast as my limbs could carry my lanky body. I ran until I stumbled into my father, yelling that Mother was being attacked. Yelling that she needed help. But, of course, he didn't move very fast. So when I stumbled back to where she was with him... That was the first time I saw a dead body. The blood and muscle protruding from her body as the cougar bit into her flesh, tearing up parts of it for it's midnight snack. It was a week later that I started to hear her voice again. Her voice telling me that I shouldn't allow my emotions to be broken under my father's teachings. Two days later he began to teach me how to fight. Scolding me every time I dared to feel. And as my emotions became harder to access the glass heart attached to my tail became frailer and frailer. Until, the day I learned to bottle it all away, it broke in two. The red liquid inside, though, never seeming to leave the container it was placed in.

After witnessing three summers, yet not quite being the age of three years yet, I lost my father. Most addressed him as Sir, or Lord, though I found out much later that his name was Schwere. He died in a battle to protect me from being taken in for a bachelor herd. While he didn't dare show emotion, or dare to feel much of it - I knew it was in there. I knew I had some but I simply lacked the empathy. He had empathy. He didn't want me going through the pain. And because of that he fought to keep me from feeling. Something easily accomplished as I didn't feel or have a need to hear from him for a few months after that. I only started to hear his voice return when I'd stumbled across another mare on my third birthday and she allowed for me to start to feel again. I had been trained to fight to kill. I knew that I could, given the circumstances that I was pushed too. But at the same time I didn't really want to be a killer. Though, that train of thought was quickly diminished as I learned it was who I had to be. Schwere constantly coming in and telling me that I was meant to do this. And that I shouldn't get attached to this mare I was trying to keep safe. He played on my insecurities and made sure I wasn't allowed to feel. And in the process, made me even more of a killing machine than his training had done in the two years i had been under his wing. I was now a killer.

I met a mare. One who didn't talk. When she did it was never of any length or importance. She seemed scared. And I have to admit, that I felt horrible for the poor thing. She was the first one to ever start to strike a chord of emotion in my soul after my mother had died. But emotions still never actually surfaced. I continually pushed them away. I never learned her name. She never offered it, nor did I ever feel the need to ask. Especially when she responded easily to Liebling. I had to watch her die. Another gruesome death. Killed by a stallion. Her silence and companionship did much for me during that year or so that I was with her. She allowed me more of a chance to explore myself. To break down when I thought I was becoming evil. But then, realizing, that I was already evil. That I had shed too much blood to ever have a chance at being good. Though, I must say that I avenged her death. The stallion thought he could take me. Thought that I was an easy kill considering how small and dainty I was. But I have the aim of a trained assassin. And my horn has been sharpened for battle and situations such as this. I may be young, but I was taught well from my father while he was alive. It also helps that he can still assist me in my head during battles. Shouting orders at me, and when I choose to follow things usually end up much better than they could have before. So I left that Unheil to die. I gained two voices from that encounter. One which I heard not two days afterward. The voice of dear Liebling, trying to clear my head as I moved forward to attempt to find a place to go. Or really, just to find a place away from the destruction which I had just caused. The first time I heard Unheil I was in another battle. And he was laughing at me. Taunting me. Attempting to distract me from the task at hand, to save myself and get rid of the baboon who dared think he could step all over me. Father told me to kill him. So I killed him. But with trouble. My mind spinning because of the battle waging in my head between the voices. I just barely survived that battle. Coming out with wounds scattered across my body as I left to travel again and leave the destruction again.

I have finally healed. My body back up to par again though my mind wages on. I am stronger than before in spirit and body, though I cannot say my mental state is any better. Sorry if this means that you must now deal with my unstable mind. But I will say, don't worry if you die at my hand. For, you might just end up living on in my head...

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It was a new time – a new world. But, who was to say I actually cared? No one. Why? Because I didn’t. It was simply a new game for me to play, nothing else. My mind was spinning round and round and the voices in my head were stronger – clearer – than before. It was a miracle, and I knew that I was prepared to take vengeance on whatever ended up happening.

Two creatures met me as I slid my way into the forest of the new life that I was preparing to begin. One by the name of Zar’roc and another by the name of d’Artagnan, they were insipid little creatures. Not worth my time and so after miniscule conversations I went on my way out into the wilderness of the land they called Helovia.

Of course, my fun couldn’t last long. But why would it let you have fun? Not like you feel it anyways… claims Unheil. I was stolen while in a daze, forced to stay with her to complete some mission. She is the reason I was introduced to dark magic – she is the reason why I have a craving for all of it now. But that is beside the fact. I was drug around for quite a while before I was finally set free.

These encounters, though, have set the stage for the rest of my existence.

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I don’t know how long I was on my own, but when I finally found someone things finally began to change. Another one, as crazy as I. No crazier - she has to be, according to Schwere. It doesn’t matter, though, not really. For we form an alliance and we start up a group. We will aid those who are insane, and we will call it the Asylum.

First order of business: gaining new members. It seems easy enough, and I quickly begin to take people in. First Confutatis, then Reizend, Jasper, Sonya, Florabella, Agrona, Arlo, and Zaron are sheltered into our group of crazies. It was perfect, it was great. And I even found one to claim as my own. The only one that ever got a more sensitive appearance from me – and the one that I will do anything to ensure is safe: Amara. Without a parent and without guidance I have chosen to take her in. She will learn to fight, she will learn the ways of a tricky tongue. It will all work out. I will make her strong.

I spent quite a long time getting these members together – finding those that are like me. They must be crazy to join, but then again aren’t we all, in some way?

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There is a sweet scent of victory when I finally called the first herd meeting. It seemed as though everything was falling in line. Our family was growing and we were definitely about to get stronger. Alas, the first of a long line of disasters began to take place. Some evil, specter-like creatures come into our meeting. Obviously, I was on alert – I told everyone to be prepared (Schwere now claims that I should have told them to run) – and they released some kind of infection. We were sick for half of a season because of those actions.

During this sickness the Asylum went and helped fight a sea monster that was trying to take over the ocean side. Of course, I was still slightly more delusional from this poison, but I did assist quite a few other creations that walk across Helovia – one of which I would later be able to place as Kri. After this, I also went and recruited Legion to our little family of crazies.

Of course, even more disaster struck. After going to the Throat and talking about a possible alliance we offered our assistance to prove that we were worth the risk – meeting Hector, Midas, Gaucho and Kri in the process. When we had returned to the swamp, a little bit of time later we were called on again. Eris, Arlo, and I go to aid the Throat in their defense when the Basin attempted to invade them. It is this calling that gives me a gold feather to carry around in my tail.

The Throat is victorious – as I had no doubt they would be – and things slowly began to look up. I gained Histe, and Vulture, as well as caught up with Agrona and Sonya during the few months of quiet after this. This was before the past began to crash back down around me.

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I stumble back upon Tio – the stag I had started to align myself with at the beginning of my time in Helovia. He is crippled, broken, and said it was because of a quest. So I offered him a Pegasus to speak with – should he require it to complete the quest and begin to pull him back over to meet with Amara.

Not long after Amara meets Tio I take her aside and talk with her myself. I talk to the dead for her, and become weakened from the soul that is taking my form in order to speak for her. But, I didn’t mind. No. It gave that little girl a purpose, it gave her something to accomplish – and Innerste was proud of me for that. While still weak, Arlo and Agrona both bring back new recruits. Oxy and Circuta join our family. Skywalker and Seiren also appear and join the Asylum as I meet with the other two new recruits.

Soon, Eris and I go and meet with Kri in the Thistle Meadow and she says that the Asylum has the Throat warriors should we ever require them to pay us back for our assistance in the Throat’s defense. It was a great step forward – we were gaining alliances. Perhaps that would mean we could gather a herd land soon. Perhaps we would finally be safe.

But it was time for promotions. It was time for incentives. Arlo and Skywalker were promoted to Generals. Circuta given a task after getting healed. And then, the monster from the beginning appears again. Confutatis. The mare who was good at hiding and not appearing. But, as she appears she seems to leave us – claiming that Eris and I will regret not keeping her.

For what is to become of us now? Does doom continue to follow our creation for safety? Or will we break free?