Monophobia

He came from a little village of no consequence.

Hardly notable in the grand scope of things, but it only meant the curse tore it apart with no one caring beyond the few who kept their sanity.

Caiside remembered being herded into the Undead Settlement with his village, hungry but unable to truly satiate it. He can’t remember why he remembers the hunger so clearly. Eventually, it went away.

Being locked away in a cell, separated from his family and unsure if they still had their minds, he grew to fear his fate. Becoming Hollow, alone in this cell. Forgetting his life, his family, his own name.  

He clung to his name, if nothing else. He was Caiside. He had family, but their names… he hated how vague they became to him.

He doesn’t remember being freed, only that he spent his time stumbling around, scrounging through the rubble for anything resembling armor or a weapon. Only a dagger and some tattered clothes. It had to be enough.

He remembered seeing other red-haired undead, shambling around. Long since Hollowed by their isolation. He remembered enough to mourn who they once were. He feared the idea of following their fate. Hollowing.

There were too few undead kind enough to allow him companionship. Too few who wanted a scraggly thief watching their back. He understood the distrust, even as he resented it.

But any moment spent alone felt like a moment closer to Hollowing.

He couldn’t be alone. He couldn’t Hollow. No. No. He couldn’t allow it. He wouldn’t. He would find someone who would stay with him forever. There had to be someone out there… there had to be…