Romans & histoires Memento Mori : Markiplier

“If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be alive.” The scarred man gave a derisive grunt, but there was no heat in it. He scratched at the edge of his chain, the motion restless. “Korrin. Used to be a guard in Graypeak. Thought I was strong enough to fight off raiders. Wasn’t. Now here I am.” He looked at Liora with narrowed eyes. “Don’t mistake my silence for surrender. Sometimes surviving is its own rebellion.” The older woman sighed. Her gaze was distant, haunted. “Mirra,” she said at last. “Once I had children. A home. Both gone now. Maybe I keep quiet because my memories are louder than anything left in this world.”

The innocent girl I thought I once loved no longer existed, and I could not even remember what I had ever seen in her. Once upon a time, I had been the jealous type, ready to tear apart any male who so much as spoke to her. However, looking at those pictures of her lying naked in another man's bed, I felt nothing at all. I thanked Penelope and slowly stood up. "By the way, I need to return something to you." As I spoke, I immediately shifted into my wolf form and dragged my sharp claws across my arm three times, leaving deep gashes where you could see the mangled flesh beneath.

The room fell quiet again. Elara continued. “I will not beg. I will not barter.” She stepped from behind the table, walking the length of the chamber. “I ask only that you look around. That you remember what Morvani is.” “He is not a warlord. He is not a vampire. He is not even a god.” “He is hungry. Born from the bones of forgotten grief. He devours what makes us real.” “If he rises, our memories die. Our names are erased. And there will be no legacy left to fight for.”

People Mara had silenced. Jessica’s voice crackled over the comms. “I’m getting an uplink. Something’s piggybacking on your telemetry. Data stream inbound. You need to pull back.” The walls began to pulse. A message appeared on every surface. “We are the remembrance of choice. You burned the mirror. Now we become the glass.” Torin stared at it, breathless. “It’s a memorial.” “No,” Lena whispered. “It’s a seed.” The node wasn’t a weapon. It was a library. Emotional templates. Histories. Arguments. Love. Betrayals. Grief. All stored in crystal neural strands. Not code. Memory.

I know the chances of casualties are high, but I’m trying to do as much as I can to limit the death count for what’s to come. We held a joint funeral for Izac and Kylie in the Temple of Morrtemis, with majority of the pack attending. It was a beautiful service and so many people shared happy memories of the sweet couple, myself included. For a mutolupus funeral, we wear yellow for remembrance and happiness, because we want to remember and honour the happy memories we had with those who have passed.

They all floated in thick, green fluid. "I am the archive of everything you’ve ever been," the Pathologist said. "If you kill me, you wipe out every memory of humanity. I’m the only reason your species hasn’t been forgotten by the universe." "You’re not an archive," June replied, voice trembling as she stared at the trapped people. "You’re a trophy case." "It’s necessary preservation," he told her. Reaching into his chest, he pulled out a jar with a tiny, glowing version of June’s mother inside. "Want to see her die again, June? Or will you submit to the knife?"

“Died? What are you saying? My father is dead?” “It’s hard for me to explain this to you, but you need to think about this differently. Vampires live through many incarnations. Many of us have gravestones, even though we are living today. I, myself, under different names, am buried in many cemeteries in many countries. Obviously I am not really dead, or buried. But at the time, the locals needed to be assured that I was. We had to stop the evidence, reassure them that I wasn’t coming back to life. And a burial and a tombstone was the only thing that would put them at ease.

I don't want to touch it, unsure of what dwells on these walls, glossy in some places and waxy in others. "Who cares about that. The jarring part is the all these depicting death," Tai murmurs, motioning around a spot on the wall I hadn't paid much mind to. Now I see it. "Maybe we should get out of here. This place is creepy," I mention, deciding that I don't want to face anymore of this. It's all so overwhelming, seeing the depictions of blood, of poorly drawn figures without heads, or other limbs. "And young children," Marek says slowly, each words coming from his mouth pained, a struggle to pronounce. "I think he had a thing for young children."

Danica pressed her temple, trying to process the information. Marc looked still confused. “Remember what I told you yesterday over the phone? The guy I met at the Bounty Affairs? About the memory lapse?” “Ohh! Him? Shit.” His eyes widened. “How did he die?” “A shifter killed him. Mark told me.” “How did he know that?” she questioned.

The room spun violently around her as Marcus’s headless body remained burned into her vision enough that she couldn't rid herself off it. Deep in her mind she keeps playing the scenes back this time in fragments. Then suddenly… She collapsed.