Ashan waved the thoughts away. Though the visions had stopped long ago, he often found himself considering, sometimes out loud, the events that led to such an important shift in his person. At the time they looked like a necessity. Survivalism.
He looked at his garden. Deep inside Ashan knew that it didn't mean much to him. At best, it made him stay focused on lesser matters, which was good. At second best, it allowed him to pay for a prostitute a week, maybe two if sales were good. At worst, it wasn't worth dying for. Nothing was left for him to die for. Nothing commanded the power to force him into taking the actions necessary to just feel alive.
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Though he needed to ask questions, he felt as if doing so would be a confirmation of weakness. In a way it was, as the unbreakable Ashan started to doubt about his very essence and what was really his ultimate fate. By purposely pondering he was making it obvious to his consciousness that he was not sure about anything.
He stood in front of a mirror; he had read one or two books in which the character did so in order to adequately explore his inner self, or something somewhat similar ("Eh, I haven't got the best of memories"). It was ridiculous, humilliating and plain childish, but he was not about to turn his back on himself.
He wanted to know who he was. The chanting began. A green light bathed the walls and bones were broken and flesh was torn apart. He must have done it a dozen times.
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"Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul." "Your body serves your mind. Your mind serves your soul."
"You keep repeating that because it's the one thing you've never failed at."
"Look at the others, the weak-willed, those who are a prey to themselves. I'm good at this."
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"What if I told you that everything you have done up to this point is a lie? What if I told you that you were born a vermin, that you've lived like a vermin and that you'll die a vermin? What if I told you that you were swept into a maniac cult-like religion by a few well placed words? What if I told you that, despite what you seem to think, you are not the owner of yourself? What if I told you that the man you always dreamed to be is miles away from what you are?"