hey hi my writing sucks,,,,
its meant to be kinda ambiguous and also fuck being in canon history i totally forgot whoops
(the fire is hot, and the flames trail up his side and burn in like feverish skin, but the King of Demons feels no pain.)
Whatever's left of the warground is only ash. And he thinks it looks better like this: no fighting, no death. There's just the complete and utter desolation of land. Of nothingness. It's funny really- pitiably laughable. It's as if there were ever any bodies at all. Like the charred litter on the ground wasn't actually someone he had just seen this morning, alive. Happy, maybe.
But the flesh is just the flesh.
And as he stands above on the barren cliffside, watching the sun set, he finally sees what he's done, and he closes his eyes. He has been very, very tired lately, just wants to go to sleep for a long, long time until everything was back the way it was. He hears hushed voices whispering, "Brother, brother," over again and again in a mantra and knows that it is all his fault. That nothing would've been like this if it weren't for his stupid, useless existence.
So he can't help but ignore the warning.
In the end, he sees the weary sun rise up through the smoke in the air, overpowering the pollution, and he finds it almost soothing. He wants to remember where he's seen this before- this quiet, tranquil sight.
But it's too late; he's gone gone gone- dead on impact just as he sees her.
(but the flesh is just the flesh.)
-x
Thinking back, though, this was a really, really stupid idea.
He's going to die.
There's no denying it- he's going to die today. His hands feel number and number by the second, growing into a shade of pale white as the blood leaks out. He sees the ground dyed in red and he feels sick. There's just too much sound, too much fleeting senses. He feels like he's twelve feet underwater and can't breathe. Every heartbeat thumps in a way that tries to shove through his chest and it hurts, like it's trying to claw through his ribs, his lungs. And he tries to focus on the things that cause his peace. The lake, maybe, not the sick color of smoke in the background.
(he thinks he's seen this before.)
But he feels so tired. Somehow he feels that he almost deserves this, that everything he's ever done in his life has ultimately led up to this desperate situation. He feels half-empty, half-full, like he's just been disconnected from whatever it was that was tethering him to his body. He feels so light that he could just float far, far away. And the devil, Ivlis, he asks him how he's feeling. Does this grin with his mouth full of a gajillion razor sharp teeth as if this entire thing was just child's play.
And he feels so tired; he just wants to go to sleep for a long, long time.
Somewhere along the way the ending turned back to the beginning, chased to the place by the lake where he first met her. Where peace was born.
The battle is short, to the point. He doesn't fight back. The world probably won't miss him very much.
Nonetheless, in his last breathing moments, he thinks about Yosafire and her friends eating apple pie together. He thinks about Wod watering the flowers as if it were the difference between his good days and his bad. Grora shooting arrows from the sky. Arbus and Ater strolling through some unknown forest.
And Eti? He's not quite sure. The only time she ever seemed truly happy was when she was with him.
He allows himself to die.
dont read the next chapter