Author's Note: Another drabble, another shortie. Enjoy!^^
Disclaimer: Apply the usual here.
The Marker. The divine Relic. The path to Convergence.
Being part of something bigger had never been his intention. Isaac had his own world and it was his only. There, he was safe, alone, safe. But those worlds, his and theirs, were starting to Converge. Nothing, nothing was real anymore.
What was the question? What was real?
It was unknown to him. What was real was false; what was false was real. If he was a puppet, he was free; if he wasn't, he was trapped within a world of macabre displays and gory exhibitions. It was the Devil's playground, his playground.
Was he real? Was he just a ghost in a graveyard under a bloody moon?
The Marker could tell him. The Marker held the answers to his questions. The Marker was… holy. The Symphony was hope. The Whispers spoke only of Rebirth. The Marks spoke of Power… the Power to bring Doom.
Enticing. Exciting. Marvellous. Joining the Marker in its Symphony was like feeling an icy hand inside his mind, bringing voices to Isaac. And he listened, for they called to him. He was special to them. They beckoned, he walked.
Isaac will never fight again. Fighting entails losing or winning, uncertainty and confidence, hope and despair; it's all in shambles. There are choices to be made. There are things to reject. That is the reason he doesn't fight.
He kills.
The Marker. The divine Relic. The path to Doom.
But Isaac heads the opposite way. The Marker is cursed. The Symphony is Hell's. The Whispers speak of Death. The Marks speak of Rebirth, Rebirth into a world where it's all blood and destruction.
He's only looking for Salvation. He's only looking to survive.
Would Dante show him the way out of Hell?
The Marker. The divine Relic.
The Divine Comedy.
A/N: Dantesque features to this one because I just HAD to do it.
Reviews are appreciated!^^