That Was Funny, Wasn't It?

By Rachel

There was blood everywhere. It was all over the floor, the wallls, him even. But that was the way Black Mage liked it. He was evil, and he enjoyed the carnage. The bodies that littered the carpet and stone of Corneria's castle, those were his doing. He told them all he would kill them some day. They never listened. Yet, he didn't feel as satisfied as should, as he thought he would. Something wasn't quite right.

He looked at Fighter, the only one still alive. The fiery haired warrior was strangely calm for the events that had just taken place. All of his friends murdered in cold blood by his supposed best friend. Fighter just gazed back at him his usually unintelligent eyes strangely sharp. Black Mage wouldn't admit it to anyone, let alone himself, but it would be safe to say that Fighter knew him better than anyone ever had. He was the only one who ever tried.

Black Mage heaved a sigh as his gaze swept over the bodies once more. "You know... When I look back at my life, I can't help but see an inevitable chain of events."

Fighter scoffed, "That's ridiculous."

The murderous magician raised an eyebrow at his companion as he plucked a knife out of the body of White Mage. "Do you believe there could have been any other outcome than this?" He gestured with the knife idly indicating the room. White Mage at his feet, King Steve was slaughtered in his throne his daughter draped across him, Thief was some ways behind him, and Red Mage was at Fighter's feet.

"That's not how it works." Fighter shook his head, still disturbingly calm, "There is no grand story to History. Things just happen. It's the act of looking back on it that interposes a sense of narrative." Black Mage hadn't even realized the warrior even knew words like 'interposes' and 'narrative'.

Fighter was wrong however. The universe worked in a certain way, everything was preordained. Or else how could you have things like prophecies? The Light Warriors wouldn't have been, if it weren't for History being set. That was how it worked, that was how it was.

"And yet, here we are just as we were always going to be!" He flung a hand out to gesture to the room again, "Doesn't that drive you mad? Don't you hate yourself for it? For never having seen it coming until now? Every little thing is so little thing is so painfully obvious now, isn't it? Now that it's too late you have all the answers, don't you?" He was ranting, almost having lost his temper. He had stalked up to this man who call him friend. There was desperation in his tone.

Fighter locked eyes with him and held his gaze. "It's not too late." He reached out a hand to put it on Black Mage's shoulder, the mage turned away.

"It is for some people."

"Are you trying to goad me?" There was a little bit of the normal Fighter. He sounded more hurt than angry. Fighter was rarely angry, and too easily hurt.

Black Mage shook his head. Fighter was an amazing person. It was too bad he had gotten involved.

"You know it's going to end here." he said, almost sadly.

When he chanced a glance at Fighter the swordsman was smiling. "Just like it was always going to, right?"

Black Mage's own mouth quirked into a bit of a smirk. He shifted his grip on the knife in his hand and heard his friend raise his sword off the ground.

"You're catching on."