Disclaimer and author's note: Arc: Twilight of the Spirits is owned by Cattlecall and Sony amongst others who I don't know. I make no money from this piece whatsoever. I'm merely playing with Darc since I think he's a fantastically complicated character who must surely have self-esteem issues amongst other problems. It also plays with the idea of phantom limbs. I apologise for any mistakes contained herein, it's been a while since I played the game.

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Phantoms

By Aria

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Sometimes I think that they're still there.

Sometimes I think that I can still feel them.

Sometimes I think that I'm simply dreaming. That one day I will wake up to find that everything that I now think true, is false.

Sometimes I think that I will wake up to find myself back in that cellar with the rats and the cold stone.

So much has happened, so much has changed in such a short time. I see phantoms, figments of the past.

Once, I used to dream of my father, I used to think that my life with Geedo was the dream, that in truth I was still in the desert with father. Or if not in the desert then in some other town or village, forest or field where we stayed for an hour, a day a week or a year. I would dream that we were flying, flying as once we flew, skimming low over the tops of trees. Father would never let me fly too high, he always said that it was taking too much of a risk. I would dream of him teaching me, holding onto my hand until I had enough courage to not be afraid. I would dream of the stories that he used to tell of my mother, how they met, what she looked like; no matter how much it pained him, or telling me of his home. Although always he taught me how to hold my tongue around others, to be careful, to not simply trust. But then I would wake up to kicks, thumps, yells and abuse; and I would feel the collar about my neck and I would know that I wasn't dreaming. I would know that my father was dead and that I was Geedo's to do with as she pleased. Nothing more than a wretch, a bastard, a Deimos wannabe, a slave.

Now I dream of that time. I dream of Geedo, I dream of that infernal collar, and I dream of wings and soaring on the cliff tops.

Sometimes I think I can still feel the sting of her cane.

Sometimes I think I can feel the tightening about my throat and the shortness of breath that damnable collar caused; crushing my windpipe.

And sometimes I think that I can feel the weight of wings upon my back, and the freedom and balance they brought.

But then I recall the pain, the agony of their being ripped away from the wing joint. And yet I still feel them and I don't know what is a dream and what is reality.

A Deimos wannabe, neither truly a Deimos nor a Human. An ex-slave, is now leader of the Orcon, Drakyr and Coleopt tribes. A freak who is more powerful than any Deimos in history. A little bastard who joined with humans to fight an ancient enemy. A worm who has a twin brother who looks more Human than Deimos.

How can this be reality?

Surely I am dreaming and that which is but a phantom is the true reality?

But if I am dreaming, I pray to the Spirits that I never wake up.