Lanjelin
Legacy Name: Lanjelin

The image shifts again. The boys are in the water. The older boy struggles in the deep water, failing to stay afloat. The younger kid, already several strokes ahead, turns. He is just in time to see the other boy disappear below the surface. He doesn’t move to help. A stunned look of disbelief spreads across his face, before a huge grinning smile threatens to split his face in half. ‘The younger boy is me’, he realizes recognizing the series of events.

Lanjelin gasps as he regains consciousness. Floating face down in the lake, he swallows a mouthful of water and then another before his limbs react to the terror of drowning. Instinctively he moves toward the shore in sharp uneven strokes. He doesn’t stop until his toes feel the muddy ground beneath as the water becomes shallower.

He slowly hauls himself up into the sun-warmed grass, pressing up onto his knees. He expects his body to eject the water sloshing around in his lungs. However, nothing happens. It isn’t hindering his breathing in any way. In fact, it almost feels nice, soothing somehow.

As he turns to sit back on his heels, Lanjelin catches a glimpse of his reflection in the now still surface of the lake. He stills. A sudden chill courses through his body. Not trusting his own eyes he scrambles forward on his hands and knees to get a closer look.

The face gazing back at him — his face — is both familiar and foreign all at once — his hair a mossy green mess of curls, his eyes once brown now barely distinguishable against the clear blue water, small clusters of what seem to be fish scales mark the sun-kissed skin of his face and upper body.

‘What has happened to me?’ he thinks. Bile gathers in his throat. He swallows. ‘What is going on here?’ He tries to get up, but his legs collapse beneath him. A sharp pain builds behind his eyes and his vision goes black.

The boy is back at the lake. “He is me,” Lanjelin remembers. He’s older this time. At first glance he appears to be alone. Then, someone pushes him hard to the side and steps in front of him. It’s a girl. She’s about his own age, he assesses.

He glances down at his hand. His long deft fingers are curled around the smooth surface of a stone. He lifts his gaze again. His eyes lock with the girl’s. She gives him a quizzical, yet guarded look. She doesn’t know what’s about to happen — Lanjelin does. This is his life.

They aren’t friends, but he’s asked her here anyway. He’d always had a certain persuasive charm. Yet, he didn’t get along well with other people – or maybe that was the reason for it.

Almost at once they both move. He steps forward. She moves back, away from him. He raises his hand and in one swift move the rock strikes her across the temple. The girl stumbles backward. Before she can regain her balance, she reaches the edge of the lake and falls over the edge. Her body makes contact with the surface just as the light goes out of her eyes.

Lanjelin grips tighter around the now bloody stone. He watches as the body floats further into the lake. A serene expression brightens his face.

He shakes his head to rid himself of the visions and gets on his feet, successfully this time. The girl in the vision was the first person he had killed. The younger boy didn’t count. He had simply drowned. That wasn’t his fault. However, watching the boy’s hopeless struggles to stay alive had triggered something in him. There was a way to get back at those who had done him wrong.

So, he brought them here — to his secret getaway — to exact his revenge. Yet for the first time he doesn’t feel safe here. Even though he is out in the open a sense of claustrophobia comes over him. He has to get away.

Lanjelin starts toward the trees — homeward bound. However, as soon as he passes under the cooling shade of leaves, a wave of pain rolls over him. His chest constricts. His breathing becomes shallow. An unseen force pushes him back. He stumbles backwards into the clearing, falling back onto his elbows. Another series of images, clearer this time, takes over his field of vision once more.

He is padding through the soft underbrush. His violin hangs from a strap, thumping lightly against his back with each step he takes. At his belt hangs a short knife.

The scene shifts. He is sitting, legs crossed, in the tall grass by lake. He looks peaceful as he gently whittles a branch into the shape of a violin bow.

The vision changes again. He is in the water. In long even strokes he swims across the lake, heading towards a rock peeking out above the water. He reaches out to haul himself up, but as he puts his weight into the movement his fingers slip on the smooth, wet stone. His head slams against the rock.

His unconscious body glides away until he is floating face down in the lake.

He stirs as the vision dissolves — and then it dawns on him. He isn’t meant to leave. His sanctuary has become his prison — his punishment.

raumlet

Art:
[ x ] by Asmodea
[ x ] by Shade_917
[ x ] by SilaCinnamon
[ x ] by CarmineCranes
[ x ] by Cerberus