The dark oak door opened with an aching groan of protest. The night crept into the old
building, causing the many candles to sputter. The dim and wavering light cast by the candles
illuminated the windblown figure of a child. He struggled with the door, the wind trying to push it
close with a great force. The boy was young, his long red coat rain-spattered and muddy and his
black boots caked in a thick mud. He stepped inside quickly and the gales slammed the door
shut behind him causing a loud noise to thunder through the building. The boy flinched,
expecting to reprimanded for making such a ruckus. Nothing moved in the death-like stillness
that presided over that space. The candles steadied and the light grew brighter. It began to
stretch across the walls and eventually touched the boy. The light danced through his wet and
matted blonde hair and tried to find its way into his eyes. The light could not reach into his golden
eyes, however, for the burdens the child held within them suffocated the light.
He stood at the door, drenched and cold, hiding from the storm outside. Though ragged
and dirty, the boy managed to display his overwhelming pride in his very stance. His arms were
crossed over his chest in a defiant manner and his head was held high as he scanned the room -
trying to get an idea as to where he had entered. His amber gaze halted when it fell upon the
pews before him. The pews were separated in a grand aisle which was flanked on either side
with brightly glowing candles. The candles drew his attention down a walkway of light until he
noticed the altar. The altar was surrounded by hundreds of candles, each welcoming him closer.
He took a step and his eyes moved upward, following the light. A statue was suspended above
the circle of candles and the alter, it's golden metal shining brightly in the night. His hands fell to
his sides and his eyes widened in wonder as he stared at the statue. It's arms were open, ready
to embrace all who needed it and it's face held a smile of love. He stepped forward cautiously,
not sure if this god would allow him to approach. Each step he took, the heavier the reminder of
his sins became. His left leg began to drag with the weight and his right arm pulled him down.
Each step reminded him that he was impure and had no right to approach this altar, and yet he
continued. The weights began to pile onto his shoulders and his began to stumble. When he
reached the first step of the altar, the burdens became too much and he fell to his knees. He
stared up at the statue's kind eyes and began to do something he had not done in years - he
whispered a prayer.
"God, I know what I am. I know You have no reason to listen to me. I've broken Your
laws..."
Chalk marking on the ground. Ingredients in the center. Hope. His brother screaming.
Disappearing. Reaching for him, hands almost touching. A limb torn from his body. Blood.
Tears.
"...made a mockery of Your powers..."
A breath. A life. His mother was there. She would make things right again. She should
bring him back. The mists fell away slowly and he saw what he had created. Twisted organs,
bits of bone and a face. A scream of terror. A moan of agony. A horrible monster was in his
mother's place.
"...destroyed a life..."
A weapon, anything that would do the job. He needed to destroy it. It couldn't live. It
couldn't be allowed to continue mocking his mother. He screamed as he beat it again and
again. Blood splattered up and over him. He began to cry.
"...created a cruel joke of a person..."
He sacrificed whatever they wanted. His heart, his arms, his leg, his mind, his whole
life if need be. He just wanted his brother back. He wanted whatever he could get back of his
brother for whatever they asked. They gave him a soul. He used his own blood to bind that
soul to a suit of armor. His brother was no longer human, but that's all he saw him as.
"...tried to hide my sins..."
He tugged the glove over his metalic hand and smiled at his brother. It was OK - they'd
never know what happened. They asked and he always lied with a smile. It was forbidden,
what they'd done, and yet they were marvels to any who knew what had happened. They were
"lucky". He smiled again, a false smile, and made up a story for he and his brother's
appearances. Anything to hide his shame.
"...led a man to his death..."
He had trusted him with too much. He had believed that he could help, that things
would work out this time. He had died because he had known the secrets. He had tried to help
and now he was buried six feet into the ground while his daughter and wife still cry themselves
to sleep at night. It was his fault that they were alone now.
"...killed a man..."
A deal was made. He would be returned when the other was dead. It wasn't going to be
that way, though. He's make sure of it. A trick. A realization and a hole. He transmuted his arm
to the blade that was so familiar and focused on the hole he had made. It went straight
through. The man fell over, pouring blood. It was over. He had killed him. He had killed that
"ultimate shield". Murderer.
"...and fallen in love with my brother..."
He was sitting in the windowsill one night, watching his brother pretend to sleep. He
knew as well as the younger did that he would never be able to truly sleep, but he could
pretend. He clenched his metallic hand into a fist and made a vow. He would get his brother's
body back no matter what. He would see his brother sleep beside him, and he would feel his
breath and his soft flesh. He would watch his brother smile. He would listen to him tell him of
his dreams, and he would cook for him. That's all he wanted, he didn't care about his own body
or the price that would be paid. It didn't matter. He just wanted his brother to know how much
he loved him.
Tears began to run down his face, his sins pressing him closer the the ground. He
reached for the light that gleamed around the statue like a holy aura.He wanted to be free. He
grasped for it and realized it would never be his. He was too impure - too tainted. The gods
could never again smile upon him. His hands fell to the ground and he was on his hands and
knees before the statue.His voice wavered as he spoke his next words, trying to remind himself
of their truths.
"...but I don't ask for forgiveness. I don't want absolution. I don't care that I'm damned
and a sinner and fallen from Your grace..."
The light danced gayly in the tears that ran down his cheeks in torrents. His breathing
shifted, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he stared up at the statue. His voice gained strength
as he spoke his next words.
"...I just don't want him to be tainted by me!"
He began to sob, his shoulders heaving with the force and his breathing erratic. The
tears fell into little puddles on his clenched hands. The white fabric of his hands turning moist.
He never meant for it to happen. He never wanted this. This feeling was wrong and he knew it.
"I never meant for this. This was your fault for leaving us alone in the world!"
He stared up at the statue and smiled a weak smile. This was foolish. Nothing in this
world of the next could save his brother now and it was all because of him... Because he had
told his brother what he was thinking about and they had sinned by loving each other and no
other. He placed his head to the ground and cried for his brother. He didn't care what happened
to him, but he didn't want his brother to suffer. He never wanted him to be dragged into his own
sins this far... It wasn't supposed to be this way.
A strong wind passed through the old church and the candles wavered and finally died
out, leaving him in darkness. He laughed a twisted laugh as he mused to himself.
"Even the light can't stand to look upon me..."