Zachariah possessed a Slavic physiognomy, characterized by fair complexion, gray irises, and brown tresses. His upbringing was one of solitude, as he was raised without parental guidance. From an early age, he was acquainted with hunger and the bitterness of cold, and throughout his life, he witnessed the ravages of war.
Having gained access to the memories of the Specialist and Zachariah, I have begun to gain a deeper understanding of human nature and psychology. It has become clear to me that men are fundamentally selfish, prioritizing their own interests above all else, with the best-case scenario being that they consider the well-being of others second.
Zachariah lacked a sense of purpose or passion, and his heart was devoid of love and concern for his child. Both he and the Specialist had partners, wives, and families, yet neither of them exhibited genuine affection or care for their loved ones. This is why both men clung to their weapons – the Specialist with his knife, and Zachariah with his revolver. Their memories also reveal their attire: Zachariah’s wardrobe consisted of hats and classic suits reminiscent of the 1950s, but there is no trace of any personal connection or emotional attachment to these garments.
The tragic fate of Zachariah can be attributed to fear. The scars on my back, like bullet wounds, serve as a reminder of my own experiences. This is how Zachariah met his end.
The last subpersonality I remembered was that of a rich woman who lived in the East. In terms of time, this was before the Asian subpersonalities. Her life was even more sad. Her husband was a powerful sorcerer and she loved him passionately. This was the time when magic was developing in the East, its dawn. He was black and cruel, capable of doing anything for power and money. I remember her husband cutting off his enemies’ heads. He would put them in a bag and take them to his laboratory. There, he would boil the heads, then peel off the skin and flesh to leave a clean skull. With these skulls, he forced the souls of his enemies to serve him through necromancy.
I also remember the passion between us, the heat of our bodies when we were together, and how I would dance erotic dances for him (now called belly dancing).
My subpersonality became pregnant. Her husband was not happy. He saw something about the child in the future. As a result, my Eastern subpersonality had a miscarriage for some time. She thought her husband sacrificed their child for power. Rather, her enemies convinced her of this. Heartbroken, she told the enemies everything they wanted to know. A sorcerer found out and pierced her eastern reincarnation with a dagger as punishment for betrayal. That’s why I don’t want to go to Dubai. That sorcerer is still there, one of the most powerful and influential in a tall skyscraper in Dubai.
Zachariah is my predecessor. He died somewhere in the 1950s and 1960s in my hometown. He survived two world wars and a revolution. He was injured and transported to the Borovichi hospital. That was where he died. This is where I was born. Zacharia’s memory contains information about thousands of deaths. It is scary how many people died as a result of war.
In my hometown, there is a memorial cross in my favorite park for those who died at the Borovich hospitals. It commemorates those who could not be saved. As a person named Ekaterina, I don’t know what war or famine or death in war means. I have other concerns. But Zacharia’s memories make me go to that cross and light a candle in memory of those unfortunate enough to have lived like Zach after the war.