Initially, I found it difficult to connect with Fennrick, viewing the story with a detached curiosity. It felt like watching a slow-motion train wreck, a tragedy unfolding that I couldn’t tear myself away from. As a reader, I held the apathetic perspective of a god, observing the narrative from a distance, unmoved by the characters’ struggles. However, as I delved deeper into the second book, a sense of disgust and hatred began to surface within me. I was surprised at the intensity of these feelings towards a fictional character, something I hadn’t experienced in a long time.
It wasn’t until the plague city arc that I realized the true target of my revulsion: myself. The moment Fennrick grasped the hidden motives behind his mother’s words triggered an intense emotional response. I broke down in tears, unable to continue reading. My dog, Lucy, sensing my distress, came to my rescue, showering me with kisses until the tears subsided. Was I okay? I honestly couldn’t say.
Alt: A close-up shot of a dog lovingly licking a person’s face, conveying a sense of comfort and emotional support during a difficult moment.
I saw a reflection of my own self-hatred, my own capacity for cruelty, and the sting of betrayal in Fennrick. The feeling of hurting someone I cared about, the pain of abandonment by a trusted friend, the overwhelming sense that everyone despised me – these were all emotions I recognized in myself. Perhaps my sins weren’t as extreme as cannibalism or murder, but the weight of guilt can feel unbearable regardless of the transgression. While I haven’t been formally diagnosed with autism, I strongly suspect I am on the spectrum, and these feelings are magnified by that lens. Pain, no matter how differently experienced, still hurts.
The person I saw in Fennrick is someone I no longer am, a transformation I am grateful for. However, the struggles remain. Pushing through to the end of the available story, I found a path to self-forgiveness. I am a better person now, constantly striving for self-improvement. The words within this story resonated deeply, providing solace and understanding.
The friend I hurt, and the friend who abandoned me, both returned to my life this year, nearly three and a half years after our painful separation. This reunion allowed for closure and forgiveness, something I initially felt unworthy of. Most importantly, I learned to forgive myself. This experience offers a glimmer of hope for Fennrick, a possibility that he too can find closure and embark on a journey of self-acceptance and self-compassion. He has a long way to go, and so do I.
Alt: A figure standing at the edge of a cliff, gazing towards a bright, expansive horizon, symbolizing hope, a new beginning, and a long journey of self-discovery ahead.
To the author, I offer my sincere gratitude. I know that more tears will flow before this story concludes, but I will persevere. I promise to pick myself up and keep going. I hope that if writing or life ever feels overwhelming, you can find solace in this review, knowing that your work has made a difference in at least one life.
