I'm Plagued by Demonic Thoughts

It has been a few weeks since I first saw him. At first it seemed like nothing. I was donning my Centronite uniform like any other day and took a moment to inspect it. My tunic, the earthen brown of the united land. The rising wings of a peryton embroidered along the collar. There I noticed the thread was starting to come loose. I chastised myself for not maintaing the necessary upkeep of a Cyclicitian guard. Thankfully I had already passed my armament inspection recently and wasn't scheduled to follow up until next month. Still though, I grabbed my dagger and cut the thread in the hopes of hiding the issue in the event of a surprise inspection. I sheathed my dagger and took a final look at the uniform. I stood there in front of my mirror, verifying that each piece of my uniform was sufficient. And it was. My inspection reached my face, however, and for a moment nothing stared back at me. I blinked and my face was there, but for the briefest of moments, my reflection stood there in the mirror motionless without eyes, nose, or a mouth. I thought nothing of it. It could have been some reverberation of an adept's making or even just the dreariness of having to out on patrol. Which patrol Cyclicity is what I had to do. I fastened my equipment, grabbed my helmet, and left my dwelling to meet with my honor-guard.   Cyclicity, or Solcity as some of its residents prefer to call it, is a beautiful place. It's quite literally the center of the world. On a peninsula beneath Mount Arcanis, the magnificent flying ruby crystal, lies the heart of the kingdom Centuron. Cyclicity contains close to a million people at any given time. However those that truly reside here, that is have permanent residence are only half that. Directly under the crustal lay the King's keep with a tower rising to Mount Arcanis itself. Outside the keep are places of nobility. The wealthies and most powerful live and commerce here. Further down the streets away from the castle are more defined districts. Primarily separated into residential and commercial, these districts are spread throughout the city but generally the closer you are to Mount Arcanis the better quality of goods and services you'll find.   I am a Cyclicitian Enforcer and am bound by duty and honor to patrol assigned districts and ensure the safety of my fellow Centronites. As I stepped outside of my dwelling that day, I was met with the bustle of the great unified kingdom. The rough stones paved into smooth streets by adept architects. Along the street stood market stalls outside the tall buildings of Cyclicity. Operated by people of many kinds. From dwarven smiths, elven raconteurs, and human tradesmiths to drakkic culinarians, orcish planners, and elemental agrarians. The vast array of Centronites was on full display. Only to be periodically interrupted by cross streets and levitating streetlamps. I was gereted by Miss Ashalla, an elven woman, who was teaching adolescents how to sew. She stopped me for e moment and tossed me a cloth-bound object. It was lunch she made for me saying how I always forget to pack one myself. I thanked Miss Ashalla but told her I must meet my honor-guard and patrol. As I turned away, I glimpsed the kids she was teaching. Their heads all turned towards me but each and every one, faceless. I shockingly blinked but after doing so I saw the various kids almost looking wary of me. I thanked Miss Ashalla again then headed off.   As a cyclicitian enforcer I swore an oath beneath an altar to the Council of Eight to bind me in service to one other enforcer. The two of us each swore to come to the aid of, witness, and support the other as if we each were a half of a whole. I eventually met up with my honor-guard that day. Zaskric, his name is. One of the drakkic with a strong dracnic lineage. I always suspected he was a descendant of a great dragon of old, but he never confirmed this hypothesis. He was waiting for met, alreadu stationed at our starting point. He was mingling with some passersby when I approached. I apologized for being late, to which he said not to worry. But I knew this was not befitting of an honor-guard. I tunred to the people Zaskric was talking to and jumped as they too were faceless. Save for a slit for a mouth revealing jagged teeth like cave spikes. I stumbled for a second but recollected my bearings. After which the people's faces returned, howerever the horrifying image was burned in my mind. I apologized to the citizens for my reaction and asked Zaskric for us to begin our patrol.   Despite the rocky start, the patrol went as usual that day. Zaskric and I had to stop the occasional altercation, were offered goods we humbly declined, and stood in as the crown authority to aid in resolving disagreements. But mostly, we got to see the joyous people that are Centronites. I used to enjoy those patrols. However recently I've been seeing him at nearly every occasion. Momentary blinks along patrols, I'll see his face, or rather faceless, on the bodies of other people. I hear his voice, which sounds strangely familiar, on the winds of the city. The occurrences were becoming more and more frequent. I mentioned him to Zaskric and he said I should take an early night to clear my mind. That's not too bad an idea, and to bed I went.   The morning sun shone through the window waking me up. I got up feeling refreshed and began my morning workout. I must stay fit as an enforcer. My Morning routine isn't too strenuous. Just a few repetitions of push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches. Nothing too difficult and done in short time. Quick enough that I had time to make a full breakfast. I gathered my bread and butter-berry-jam and ate a few pieces of toast. I finished eating, cleaned up, and began donning my uniform. As I finished, I performed the visual inspections in mirror. The armor all properly fastened, the tunic properly fit, everything was perfect. Save for that darned thread. The tip of the embroidered wing along my collar was beginning to fray.   That was unacceptable. Cyclicitian enforcers mustn't have any deformations to their uniform. I must've into the stitching when cutting that loose thread, I thought. Luckily I had been quick this morning and had some extra time. I took my sewing kit out of a drawer in my desk and found that while I had my needles, I was out of thread. I can't believe I had forgotten to restock again, Am I good at anything? I had thought. I took a needle and carefully tried to secure the stitching, at least temporarily. I spent too much time though. I checked my watch and saw I was running late. Stumbling, I left the needle in my collar holding down the thread, grabbed my helmet and ran out the door.   I was practically sprinting through the crowds of people when I heard Miss Ashalla call out my name. She asked about the hurry and noticed my fraying collar. I greeted her and told her I was running late to meet my honor-guard. Miss Ashalla offered me pity, saying she could redo the embroidery for me. I gave her a half-hearted thanks and urged that I really needed to get to my patrol station. As I tried to leave though, she grabbed my arm and handed me another cloth-bound sandwich. I forgot lunch too, I can't do anything myself I remember thinking. I took the sandwich she made for me then looked up at her and she was faceless. I stumbled backwards and blinked. After a moment I saw her face again, looking horrified of me. I apologized and rushed to meet up with Zaskric.   I was nearly 20 minutes late to the scheduled start of our patrol. I was chastising myself all the way to the starting point. Hoping that Zaskric would wait for me instead of reporting my tardiness to the Crowned Order. As I arrived, I saw Zaskric talking to some Centronites. I apologized profusely to my honor-guard. Zaskric said it was fine, but I knew he was hiding his distrust. He finished his conversation and we began our patrol. The patrol was fairly usual. We spoke with citizens of Centuron and acted as watchers to protect over Solcity. Throughout our patrol though, I felt him watching me. I could feel Zaskric watching me as we walked. Like he was suspicious of me. Every time I looked at him though, he quickly looked away. I was distracted as we walked, and didn't notice the thug that jumped us. Some lowlife elf swung a knife at me. It only missed because Zaskric shoved me out of the way. The knife sinking into the base of his wing instead. I retaliated against the thug as quick as I could, but I hard already failed my honor-guard.   I tried to help Zaskric but I was never any good at healing magic. I turned him over and tried talking to him, but he was already gone. As I flipped him over, he was faceless. His body lay there. I didn't think something so small could have slain one so strong. I ran to the nearest Order outpost to get help. I told the guards there an enforcer had fallen. They looked me over, I could feel them judging my ill-maintained uniform. I was rushed and distraught, but was able to convince the enforcers to follow me to the scene. I could hear them whispering about me behind my back as we walked. We arrived where I left Zaskric, but he was gone.   The two enforcers laughed at me. They called me a fool, and I might as well be one. They questioned my credibility, my honor. Which I could hardly defend. They confiscated my tunic, symbolizing the security the Crowned Order provides to Centuron. Leaving my armor barren like any other merc. They claimed I was making up the event, that I was impersonating the honorable Order. I tried to explain but without any evidence who really could say if I was telling the truth. Especially since I've been seeing him more and more frequently. I took a slow walk home that night. Replaying the events of that day in my mind. Trying to find where things went wrong, and how I could start repairing my life. But all I could focus on were my failings.   I bumped into some enforcers outside my dwelling before noticing they were stationed in front of my door. I realize I had become reliant on Miss Ashalla calling out to me but she was nowhere to be found. I looked up to see who I bumped into and yet again saw him on the guards. I stumbled backwards but the enforcers did their duty and caught me before I fell. The faceless guards interrogated me about my dwelling, their jagged teeth causing their words to hiss as they spoke. I tried to calmly answer their questions, but I couldn't focus on what they were saying. They mentioned Miss Ashalla which pulled me back slightly. Looking around I saw the kids she usually taught and watched over, but there was no sign of her. I asked the enforcers about her, and it turned out she had been injured. In my rush that morning, I stupidly forgot to secure my dwelling and apparently some thug tried to break in. Miss Ashalla tried to stop them but the thug had a knife or something and left her bleeding in the street.   Guards had resscued her but by the time they got there she was in critical condition. All this time I barely did anything for her and now she's hurt because of me. The enforcers led me inside my dwelling and it was ransacked. All of my things were destroyed because I was too absent-minded to lock my door. I have nothing. I failed my honor-guard. I lost my crest. I can't do anything. I hurt everyone near me. I collapsed on the floor, laying there for a while into the night. All of those thoughts and more flooded my head. I can't take any more. I got up, left my dwelling behind, and came out here to the sea cliffs. I haven't been out here too long before you got here, Stranger. That's pretty much why I'm here. I can't do anything right, so there's no point in going on.           Heh he sure as hell doesn't nuture everyone. He hasn't helped me at all. And why should he? It was my fault the precious lives he nutures ended. It's best if I can't hurt anyone else. Say how far down do you think the waves are crashing against the rocks?