The Last Will and Testament of a Cunt

The document is a chaotic scrawl on loose sheaves of paper, with an abundance of only somewhat relevant diagrams and image inserts. Several pages consist of menacing illustrations of stars and crystalline tigers the size of buildings. The ship AI sorted these out for fun.

I, Kal’mith, being of temporarily sound mind and somewhat stable body, do declare this my last will and testament. I’m going to die soon. I’m under no illusions. What I saw in those caves, the things that I did in Scrapwall, I can only hope it comes soon. I spoke to Longdreamer about the future, seeing as she’s the only one that doesn’t look at me like like I’m contagious. I tried to get her to run, and help some people that can still be saved. I don’t know what happened to us, but it ain’t good. Healing spells don’t work anymore, the stuff that hurts living things passes over us like nothing. Either we don’t have souls anymore, or something worse.

If you’re reading this, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I can’t describe in words how sorry I am. I’m sorry to all the things I’ve broken, all the people I’ve hurt. If there’s any justice left in the world one of the Gods will arrange for something bad to happen and soon. I don’t deserve to be alive. To all the people who rightly hate me, take solace in that I probably died horribly. I wanted to make Numeria a better place, I wanted things to be better. I never should have been born. Dad was right.

I’m changing. Physically, this time. I’m angry all the time, and my fingers hurt like someone broke them and set them on fire. My teeth keep flaking out, jagged like broken glass. They cut the inside of my mouth when they fall out, and the blood is like black ink that smells like tar. I’m as grey as one of the days old fish we used to find on the river bank, leathery and numb. My eyes are seeing things they shouldn’t, awful things that stare at me. I keep catching these strange thoughts. Violent, bloody violent, horrible thoughts. I’m turning into a monster. I hope I’m dead before it gets worse, but I doubt it. I keep trying to die, but I keep getting back up. Nothing wants me. Not the earth, not the gods, not even the others in the ship. I’ve come close to putting a bullet in my skull whenever we come back from a mission, torn up like some vulture pecked corpse and just as pallid. Reldis cut me open one time, and I saw what was inside of me. I can’t keep living like this. I have to make this right, or die trying.

I like to think it started in Scrapwall, but I think it was a long time before that. Dad always said I had something wrong with my head, but I never listened. Why would I, when he was such a piece of shit all the time? Even broken clocks are right twice a day. I was with a new group, I think I wanted to try something exciting. I don’t remember much of it. Strange Fluids, I’d heard it called. Anyone would be curious. I did a bit more than most. My diary’s got some more of what I saw, but I’m told they found me passed out with my hands locked tight around a manticore’s throat. No-one wanted to look at me, and the city was on fire. There were bodies everywhere, my hands were covered in cordite. Gods have mercy on those poor dead bastards. If you’ve heard rumors of what happened down there, they’re all true. I did it. In a just world I’d be hung, but we both know that it’s not.


Tyem. I’m sorry I couldn’t speak to you about this. You deserved to know why I left, and why I couldn't stay. You of all people deserved to know. I’m truly sorry you looked up to me. I was too ashamed to see what you’d think once you knew what I did. What I was turning in to. I’m not as brave as you thought. I know you’ll be sad to find out I died like this, but at least now you know the truth, and trust me, it’s for the better. I think you knew me at my best. I’m damn proud to have met you, Captain. I leave you my diary, my rifle, and my little religious book. I won’t need it anymore. I tried my best.

Longdreamer. I haven’t known you too long, but you’re one of the gentlest souls I’ve ever met. That you live in such a blasted and horrible land is more remarkable. I’m sorry I couldn’t see your God. Thank you for taking the worst things out of my dreams, and helping July. I’m going to leave what money I have to charity. Whichever one you think is best. Please make this place better. Gods know we can’t.

Red. To you I leave my pen, so you can draw yourself a face.

July. To you, I leave my arms. You seem to go through those pretty quickly.

Seija. To you, I leave my ammo. You know what to do.

Reldis. To you, I leave my old spellbook. I hope you can read it.

Zebu. Do you exist? The others keep telling me you’re a figment. If you’re alive, you can have whatever else the others don’t take.

Meyanda. I hope you get your head sorted out. I leave you my heart, for ornamentation. Maybe you can eat it.

Cool. You’re alright mate. You can have my bones. We both know you were just trying to make some out of my teeth. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, it happens to a lot of guys.

To that little robot whose name I forgot. I locked you in the reactor room one time. You can take my batteries.

Isuma. You nearly shot me that one time. You can take my spare shirts, in case you need a change of clothes.

Mum. I’m sorry.

Dad. You were right.

Whoever finds my body. Just burn it.