Chapter 788: Chapter 789: Bird The sound of violent vomiting echoed out as Damon threw up everything he had been forced to eat. He doubled over, his hands braced weakly on the floor while his chest heaved. He scratched at his tongue in a panic, as if terrified the taste of human flesh and organs would cling to his taste buds forever. There was a tired and hollow look in his eyes. It was as if this single trial had drained his soul away. Lazarak took a step toward him, hands rising on instinct to help, but he stopped himself and bit his lips hard. His fingers curled behind his back in frustration. There was a barrier between them. Damon had not been physically tortured by this trial. It was not like when he had been tossed onto a bed of needles, nor like when he had been burned alive in melted mirrors. He had not had his tongue pulled out and pierced with spikes. He had not been forced to eat piles of gold, diamonds, money and anything else the trial demanded until his gums bled and his stomach bloated. None of that had broken him. None of those trials had made him think I don’t deserve this suffering this is not fair. Damon understood things were not fair. That was just life. Deal with it. "You take the hand you are dealt and move on.." He muttered weakly. Had that not been what had driven him to survive all this time? His back ached. He was used to being tossed around, used to learning that life was unfair. Damon could no longer stand. His legs trembled, so he simply sat down with a heavy drop. His body was mangled, yet his spirit had never dulled. Not until now. Not until he was forced to eat raw flesh and organs while the faces of people he had killed begged him not to consume them. "When ..." he muttered. Blood clung to his lips, making him look like a savage beast with the remains of its prey still on its mouth. He did not look at the Archivist. Damon lowered his head and spoke anyway. "I wish it was possible to turn off our emotions. I wish I could not feel shame, guilt or regret. I wish I was some inhumane monster that didn’t have to deal with all this crap. If I have a next life ... I want to be a bird. I would only worry about finding worms. I would build a small nest and carry none of the complexities that come with being human.." He mumbled softly. It sounded like madness, but it was a quiet madness. A tired one. "I always feel ashamed. I feel guilty for everything because deep down I hate that trying to survive has turned me in.. into this.." He gestured weakly to himself, his fingers trembling. As if the very sight of his own body was something grotesque. "I never really understood why anyone would tolerate or even like me, especially when they see the real me ... I... I understand... no I don’t understand it ... emotions are too complex a thing for me to understand.." Damon lowered his head slightly, his expression strangely calm. "Its far easier for me when people hate me. That way I don’t have to walk on eggshells trying to be good enough. It’s easier if people tell me they want something and everything is transactional...," He let out a weak chuckle, mocking his own thoughts. "It was easier to wish to die than live and face it. Growth comes. True growth always comes from torment. When I fail enough it gives me clarity. I see things for what they are. Failure is my greatest teacher..." He winced slightly, not from his wounds but from the thoughts swirling in his head. "Its all a lie..." he whispered. Everyone watched him quietly. His tone was cold and hollow, almost emotionally muted. "I didn’t have a choice ... that was a lie. There is always a choice." "Hahaha hahaha." He raised his head and laughed maniacally. "I say I don’t feel guilty but that is a lie. I feel guilt deeply ... not because I killed to survive but because I hate what surviving turned me into ...." This contradiction sat deep in Damon’s heart. It might not have been a complicated truth, but Damon was seventeen. To him it might as well have been impossible. "Surviving has always been everything to me ... live a second longer. Am I a victim of my circumstances or the agent of my choice..." He shook his head slowly. "I am guilty... I am guilty because I put the fear of hurting others over myself.. when I am also a victim. I feel guilty knowing that I have betrayed myself..." He stood up slowly. His legs shook but he held his own weight. His eyes were calm. Matia clenched her fist when she saw his expression, sensing the shift in him. "I am done feeling sorry for surviving. Apologizing for existing. I made my choices. There is no use torturing myself for them ..." Damon pointed at the Archivist with his mangled hand. "We are always the ones who decide and we are the ones who make our choices. I have made mine and I will live by them ..... if you hoped to break me... then you have failed." The Archivist’s eyes widened slightly. He looked almost moved. He had been certain Damon was broken for good. "No one has ever survived the sixth sin ... you are the first .... " He lowered his head for a moment, as if collecting himself. "Then may I ask what purpose does your death serve if you are unfettered by your guilt..." Damon laughed. His voice echoed into the halls of the library. "I wish to be a bird ... my wings will touch the clouds.." These words might not have made sense without context, yet somehow the Archivist and all who heard him understood. He was saying: I want to be free. I want to soar by choosing to fall. Lazarak felt a tear slide down his cheek when he heard those words. By choosing death Damon was making a choice of his own. Damon smiled with deep clarity in his eyes. "We are not asked when we are born... we didn’t exist so we never made that choice. Those who bring us into this world do. Where we are born, who we are, how we look, none of us get to choose that. What we can choose is how we live, but that is difficult when our birth influences so much. Our scars will never heal. Still we can choose how we live and how we die. Because our choices begin when we are born and end when we die." The Archivist lowered his head. The quill in his hand shook slightly. "May I ask one final question before you face the last sin ... I may not get another chance to ask it. You may die or become lost in perpetual torment..." Damon nodded slowly. "You may .. I’m in a giving mood ..." He flashed a soft smile. The Archivist nodded. "What happens when you fail to die ..." Damon went silent for a moment, then smiled softly. "Then I will learn to live.... I will choose to make a choice for my future... since a coward’s existence is no longer an option." "You are interesting... I see why you are called the demon .... Your choices are confusing and I may never understand you.." Damon shook his head slightly. "No there is nothing wrong... it is human nature to have conflicting desires." The Archivist seemed to smile. "Let the final trial begin."