They were right. By the time I was the age of 6, I would never cry again. It was something that all Piless lacked, the need to cry. They took everything in stride, even if the ones they loved, which was far and in between, they would never shed a tear for their loss. Those tears were a weakness, a stab in the heart, a pain that took time to dull over, and we Piless never had time for them. We were always moving, always changing, and always trying to do something with the world around us instead of standing still. We had no time for emotions. No time to sit and smell the roses. No time to adequately love someone.
This all begins with the attaching of our chains. Our bones and our blood mold itself for that day. Our bones form under our wrists like metal, nearly unbreakable. We each have a design in our heads whenever the chains are needed. They come like a vision and not another Piless could ever attempt to create another's chains. The results could be diasterous. Because not only do they protect us, but keep us sane. The lack of chains is insanity. The powers that the insanity brings is almost always five to tenfold of what a normal Piless is.
I remember seeing one of my kind go insane. This was something I would never forget. That lone Piless took down nearly a dozen of my people, before he simply fell over, dead himself. The screams, the blood, the gore that had been shed by his bare hands was everywhere. Intestines laid shred across the floor, walls, and ceiling. The smell was the most haunting and the most comforting. The smell of death was evident. A smell that will never fade.
Anyways, I strayed a little bit, please forgive me. Once the Piless had their vision, we were given our own room with all of the supplies that we requested. This empty room, besides that of a table, alchemy supplies, and a forge. Papers would be all over the room before it was over. Drawings, writing with equations would all filter into each page, until we knew exactly what we wanted. They had expected great things from me. And I still hate them for it. Was my life all just apart of their plan and already chosen for me? I call bullshit.
I remember crafting my own chains, these two that now prop themselves up, overlooking this piece of paper that I am now scribbling across. They are guiding me, I know, and never would I doubt them again. They have become my best friends in this life.
The metal and alchemy fused together with seemingly uncanniness while I worked days upon days. Each link took several hours to complete and after each one attached, the greater power was insued.
By the end of the 23rd day, I collapsed. Even with food and water that I was given throughout this period, my mind was exhausted. My body could only follow suit. While I was passed out, the complete chains took a life of their own, like all Piless chains, and they came to me and they attached themselves to my wrists. The blood, bone, and metal all fused into one. I remember waking with that agonizing pain, the sizzling of my skin bubbling under the infused heat of the chains as they pushed against the fortified bones at my wrists. Then it was all over. The pain vanished, as I had passed out again, but this time, from the pain. Never in my life have ever felt something so terrifying, so painful, and so exhilarating at the same time.
When I walked out of that room, I was no longer a pup. I was a wolf. I was a hunter. I was that of a guardian and I was that of a killer. I was told that I would bring my people back to glory. If that glory resides in death, then they will have gotten that part right, at least. I saw change needed in our people and the only way to make that change, was to skill the rest of them. I had to be the last one standing. I had to be the only one left to fulfill what I thought was what the Piless really needed to be. Extinct.
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