Behold the Man
My idea of how and why Joachim the Nephilim decided to become Karel the human.
Special thanks to Pashmaki for being the first reader and Akkon for suggesting the title :)
It is a massacre.
Fallen, he lies on the bloodsoaked earth, amidst the corpses of friend and foe alike. A dozen wounds mar the purity of his skin, blood lava-red against the pale flesh. The air is thick with the smell of death. As the oblivious sun sets in the red mist, the sky itself seems an open wound.
His brothers. His sisters. He can still hear their screams.
At the very edge of his vision, the betrayer surveys the killing field, the sight beyond sight hunting for those that still draw breath. The accursed demonspawn spares them not a thought, not a second glance. Only a fleeting gesture in their direction, and the white cloaks follow to heal - or to kill.
He feels it brush against him, ethereal and cold and so very hungry, and while the discomfort comes and passes, the mark it leaves is permanent. He tries to convince himself that he doesn't care, that he should surrender to his fate, that without his siblings there can be no life for him.
But if he gives in, there will be no revenge. No justice. No second chance. Never again. If he dies, it will be as if they had never lived at all.
Here comes the signal, here comes Guilhelm the leader of the white-cloaks, here comes the Lightbringer, terror of the ancient world unsheathed in the enemy's hand. There is so much blood around him that the earth itself chokes on the attempt to soak it up, and he is given but a split second to choose between life and death.
And choose he does.
As the Lux Veritatis come within human sight, it is not a fallen Nephilim they see. It is a fallen man, bloodied, broken, victorious. He raises his hand weakly, Here I am, and all swords are put away.
"Brother Karel."-Guilhelm speaks the name of him who lies charred and unrecognizable only an arm's reach away, his name from now on, and behind the blood and sweat that lace his skin, the knight's smile is sincere – followed by the most absurdly foolish words known to man. "Everything is going to be alright.".
Never is, and never will be. Unaware, Guilhelm clasps with reassurance the raised hand of Brother Karel – the hand that, in mere two days, will fire the crossbow and end his life. Unaware of the enormity of his mistake but realizing that he is no longer being watched, Pieter von Eckhardt gives no signal for the next life he finds. Vultures begin to gather and nothing is alright, nothing at all, but as the enemies of a moment ago now tend to his wounds, the last of the Nephilim allows himself the brief comfort of unconsciousness.