His coat rustled, while he climbed increasingly higher and higher in the clouds. The broom shook a bit, he was yet old. Just like himself, he suddenly realised. His hair, which once was black, turned grey at his temples. Maybe it came because of the stress he had had the last time. Because of the fight between two fires.
He looked down and saw the cars raging on the highway. In the distance there was the top of a castle to be seen. Hís castle. His home, which he had to leave. Forever. It was time to choose for himself. He didn't want to obey his master and deceive at the same time, didn't want to fight anymore. He was tired, hadn't had combativeness anymore to fight against the death. They had to do it without him. No one would miss him anyway.
Or maybe? No, the boy would be happy. Since he always treated him as dirt. But he simple couldn't do it otherwise, it would be tóó suspicious. Now, he regretted. If he had exposed his feelings, they might as well now... No, they wouldn't have a future together anyway. The age difference, the conflicting features. But still... he kept hoping that the boy could see through his disguise, could see the true nature. Well, it was too late. He would die anyway.
In the first instante the combativeness had conquered his heart and he wanted to overcome his so called master. Who wouldn't when it's about the foe of a secret lover? But slowly he became weaker, just as the grip at the stalk of the broom went less strong, because the evil broke him down. He wished he was five years old again. Then his parents weren't divorced yet, then he knew nothing of the bad. He wished the reality was a bad dream after which he would wake up.
In fact they fought both for the same, the boy and he. But somehow they weren't connected. When he once put the mask of the severe, recalcitrant teacher, he simple couldn't take it off. It was easy to change the desire into hate, because the boy was similar to his father. But those eyes... He would never see them.
The air lighted up for a moment, a thunderbolt fell down. He thought of the castle, which was far from eyesight now. How many days had he spent there? As boy of eleven, haughty and still a bit afraid, as boy of sixteen who joined the Lord of the Dark, as man of fourty who became in love at one eyesight... But how older he became, how wiser and because of that he knew that now it was time.
Memories, they didn't mean anything for him, he thought, while he slowly, but steady slided down. With a blast his feet came at the black, barren ground. It was almost comple dark, there were only a few far lights. An image which consisted of black hair and green eyes occured for his eyes. He waved it away. It was too late. The sword stood firm in the earth.
And he fell in his last fight. Not knowing that somewhere far away tears in green eyes grieved of him.