The dust and desolation
A dry and dusty cottage lay just within reach of a sprawling wood, completely furnished with the rustic home décor that Nosgoth's citizens traditionally decorated with. Though, the once lit fireplace now lay cold, desolate to the Winter snowfall that had recently plagued the forest. The family within slept, huddled over with the large woollen blankets they normally slept in.
The father was an older male, young in his features with dark brown hair. His wife, having sunken eyes and a small petite figure cuddled into a nook next to him. Across the room was another bed, with a young boy sleeping in it. The boy was young, who had collapsed into slumber only a few hours previously after cutting trees with his father. He still wore his breeches and shirt, only pausing to take off his boots before passing out. Pale dreams of the following day's events wafted through his mind, ones of joyous enjoyment in going to town and bartering for the wood they cut.
The young boy slept, and continued to do so. Even when a sharp knock sounded at the cottage door. The mother bolted awake with a start, fear gripping her tired eyes. She rose with a start, the father not moving from his torpor. The mother had been predicting this day for quite some time, but always dearly hoped it would never come about. She ran to the boy's bed and shook him awake.
"Raziel… Raziel…" The boy kept still, his eyes unopened. It was a good dream he had, one of blue lights and pointy swords. The Sarafan at the door pounded harder, and the mother knew she couldn't hide him for much longer. Only vampire hunters would break into homes and take children to further their ranks.
The resulting struggle seemed surreal. The boy only awoke as a stranger picked him from slumber. The mother could do nothing as heavily armoured knights heaved him away. Even the father was thrown to the ground and beaten as they walked away.
The pale and crying woman lay on her knees, with a wonder to what lay ahead…
In the future…
Amongst the charred remains of fallen beasts, the wraith walked by. A glowing sword emanating from his arm, a weapon ultimately powerful enough to destroy even the strongest abomination he faced down.
The Wraith was undead, having long been thrown into a watery grave a millennium before. Even still, he found his existence now devoid of catharsis. Only the thoughts of revenge fuelling his every step. The thoughts of killing his creator and former master, Kain. The ash corpse of Nosgoth he walked was as unkind to him as the rest of it's inhabitants. Raziel only knew that with every feeding on the diseased and harrowed souls of his brothers, did he feel one step closer to solace.
The Wraith paused as he spotted something on the dusty ground, beneath his right foot. Raziel eyed the quarry around him, only seeing a partially decayed human corpse off to the side. However, the passage of time and whatever had torn apart his face proved rather unkind. Raziel knelt and picked up a small locket partially buried in the sand. He held it's golden chain in front of him, and saw the broken necklace was opened already.
He remained as motionless as ever, only the calm wind to keep his soul at ease. With what seemed like minutes, the ghoul tossed the locket at the corpse and continued on. The miniature portrait of a woman inside brought up enough bad memories. Ones of war, and of suffering. Of the many mothers he left alone and desolate…