Shayn Iomharach

Thy

• • This Is A Strange Place

    Things... happened. I'm not sure what, but I'm positive they weren't for the better. The last thing I remember was the storm raging over the ocean before I passed out. I woke up this morning in... who knows where, I've never seen a building like this. And... above sea level, for fuck's sake. How in the hell to people up here exist without water around them? They'd be suffocating like mad. At least...
    
    Scribbles cover this next portion in desperation and realization that things aren't exactly how they should be. Several unknown sigils and expletives can be discerned.
    
    This place is... an absolute madhouse, I should be dead. I can't feel my fin, I can't... well, I feel something but I have absolutely no clue what it is. And I feel wider down there, I have absolutely no idea what the fuck is going on!! I should be dead! There's no water, so why am I still alive?!
    
    The lights, they're all... agonizingly bright, absolutely clumsy, and burn like the sun on a midsummer's day. I'm surprised I haven't yet broken out in heat rash yet, and... my fin doesn't feel hydrated enough, the scales are probably going to start falling off any second. It doesn't even feel whole for that matter. The sounds I hear are all frantic, there's absolutely no cohesion or organization whatsoever. The smells are rancid... this bloody room smells like death itself is farting, its absolutely disgusting.
    
    I need to get the fuck out of here, sooner rather than later. Find out what happened to me, find my way back...
    
    A massive chunk of paper is unused before scribbles continue at the bottom of the page, almost as if the writer is trying to start anew.
    
    I have no idea who I am, where I come from, where I've been. Why am I here? What happened to the rest of my life that I can't remember, and why does everything around here seem like its meant to be an eternal hell?
    
    I need to get out. I need to get the fuck out; my sanity is slowly draining away, I fear. I remember a battle, I remember the clash of spears, the sound of my dying army, the scent of blood, the sharp pain of taking my own wound; I can still feel it, and it hurts like a bitch. However, I can't remember what it came from, or who delivered it... and this frightens me.
    
    I need out, soon. Get out, find my way back home... wherever that is... and make all of this right once more. But first... there is something I must do. I need to find him. That night... I distinctly remember a face, before everything went black. A face that I so desperately yearned to touch... still yearn to touch, almost like it was nothing more than a dream. And that smile... He never uttered a name, but his voice was soft, faintly warm... and surprisingly inviting, something I haven't yet experienced since then. I need to find him, sooner rather than later.
    
    My name... my name is Prince Shayn Diarmad Ìomharach. I am the sole child of my parents, and heir apparent to receive the throne once coming of age.
    
    

    ... but is any of this for real... or not? I want... no. I need to line the pieces up.