My good stars,
that they were my former guides,
have empty left their orbs
and shot their fires
into the abysm of hell.
– Shakespeare
At nightfall Cain Nightlord moves effortlessly to the edge of a sharp overhang. There before him is a radiant view of the Albion skyline. A hurricane of illuminant colours and lights are scattered throughout the kingdom.
The world is my adversary and I am the enemy of the world. When you look to the starry vastness, this now tainted apocalypse will beam warmly on all of you. And if my wings should be torn. And the strands holding me together cut loose. Only then, with my broken wings ignited, will I have accepted my crestfallen fate from above. But I doubt that will happen.
A large cloud shifts across the glittering black heavens, soon gently baking in the moon's slumber. He thinks of his brother.
Abel Nightroad. I am falling to pieces without your perfected quality. You deserve to suffer so that I am no longer forced to live as an incomplete being. You are a senselessly dignified existence, yet I know you enough to realize that, as someone who was once a part of you, you will not surrender easily.
I am not merciful. When the violins are softly crying where you lie and you feel the affliction of my unforgiving hand, you will understand what I endured for nine hundred years. You will be consumed by the fire.
Yes, brother. Even I can make devils cry. So just wait and be surprised.
He laughs silently and bows his head for a moment, contemplating.
The contrast of his fair shining hair against the midnight sky is blinding. He is untouched by the elements.
A crystal shard sits in his pale hand. Those nine hundred years ago, when he faced his brother, the intensity of the battle saw Abel Nightroad's blue crusnik aura shatter in moments when his defence was attacked.
Even after all this time, Cain still keeps a piece of Abel with him.
At the thought of his brother, he clenches the shard tightly. It slices ever so gently through the palm of his hand, and the scarlet blood trickles down his pale fingers. Not a drop touches any other part of him.
I will be waiting to look into your glowing red eyes, Abel. And you will look into mine. I sense that it will not be long to wait until the next judgement day where we can finish what was started. Just try and stop me, dark devil.
A faint wind picks up the golden threads of Cain's hair and sweeps them over his icy eyes. The crimson red edging of his collar taps against his porcelain cheek. He stands at ease, arms by his side, hand dripping red, head high.
You will follow me to the end. Pursuing every trail I leave, every path I take. But remember one important thing. You will lose. Everything.
There is a twinkle in his eye. An angelic smile appears to his lips as he looks down on the world he is about to destroy and the brother who will complete him.