(Disclaimer: Trinity Blood is owned by Sunao Yoshida. I fell in love with the story (sadly with anime first, then the manga, and finally the novels) and wanted to know more about Abel's past. This is how this story got started.
I hope you enjoy reading this story as much as I've enjoyed writing it. Also, I request feedback unless you are unable to post it. Feedback helps me get motivated for the next chapter and helps me grow as a writer.
Thank you,
Flame.)
Trinity Blood: Divergent Path
Prologue: Hollow
Darkness, it pressed down from all sides, completely obscuring the cold stone walls. Even the coffin, only feet from Abel, was hidden in the darkness. His gaze unfocused as he stared at the floor only able to see part of the white coat he wore. A hollow feeling tugged at his chest and made his heart feel as if it no longer beat. Perhaps it had been days or years ago, but it didn't change the fact there was nothing but the hollowness of his heart.
When had it happened? How long had it been? These questions no longer held meaning for Abel. He supposed they would be answered when the Pope wished for Abel to make good on his end of the bargain, but, for now, Abel didn't want to know.
Slowly Abel picked up a small item which lay beside him and traced it. A cross, but it wasn't just any cross. Sorrow stabbed at his heart, painfully shoving aside the numbness which had clung to him only moments before. A hot tear trickled down the side of his face. Shaking his head, Abel forced back the emotions he was feeling and returned the cross to the floor. It wasn't his; he shouldn't have taken it from her. Should he replace? She was only feet from him; yet, at the same time, further from him than ever before.
Abel's thoughts slowly turned away from this. There was a saying, when someone died their entire life flashed before their eyes. He couldn't help but wonder if this was true or if it were possible at other times as well. Had her life flashed before her eyes before she was taken from this world? It seemed cruel, if this were so. Abel knew he wouldn't want his life to flash before his eyes, but it was no less than he deserved.
The world would one day forget about Abel and his siblings. The Nightlords would fade from truth, into legend, into myth, and eventually from history entirely. Abel's only hope was the people would never forget of the sacrifice she had made for humans. The Methuselah might hate her for it and she would fade from their thoughts, but he hoped the humans would hold to the fact she had helped them when no other would.
Slowly Abel closed his eyes. If he slept he wouldn't know, if he was awake he wouldn't know. This place, this tomb was so dark, and so cold. It suited him. To trap a monster such as him underground where all he had to do was guard a tomb and wait for the Pope's letter, was simply prefect. This was all he had to do. This was all his life was now and he didn't mind. It was better than what life had been, far better.
Abel let his mind go blank, his hand closing on the cross as her curled into a tight ball on the floor. Nothing happened. No sound, no sight, only the feel of the cold stone biting into his shoulder. His mind was blissfully blank; then – blood stained his vision. The shrieks of the dying rang in his ears, the hot feeling of fresh, warm blood on his hands, and the strong, almost tangible feeling of rage spread through him. A woman lay at his feet, her light blue gaze staring blankly up at him. There was a child clutched in her limp arms, tears sliding down his face as Abel reached towards the child. Abel's long talons sank effortlessly into the boy's throat.
Abel's eyes flew open. He was back in the tomb. Heart racing and eyes wide as the coffin swam before his eyes. Monster, monster, he curled up tighter, the word repeating over and over in his mind. Monster, monster; monster…
Even with his eyes opened wide, the past loomed over Abel. It was so clear to him. The word wasn't holding back the memory of who and what he was. There was no escape and there never would be. He was a monster and no matter what he did or how much time passed there would be no changing this fact.
"Monster," Abel's voice cracked from disuse, "monster," it hurt, "monster," the word was tearing at his throat, "monster." He could almost see himself reflected in the coffin's shiny, metal surface. His face was shock white as a familiar emotion beat in time to the word, "Monster, monster, monster…" Abel's voice grew quieter and quieter, until it vanished and he was just mouthing the word over and over again.
Squeezing his eyes shut, a fresh wave of sorrow swept aside the fear. Lilith, why did she have to die? It wasn't right, she shouldn't have died. Abel should have seen it coming and stopped him from killing Lilith. Abel had been blind to the truth and Lilith had paid for it.
The smooth metal of the coffin met Abel's fingertips. He barely noticed the drop in temperature compared to the rest of the tomb. It was always cold down here, sometimes it was colder and other times it was warmer.
Abel didn't open his eyes. He just lay there, clutching the cross in one hand and resting the other on the coffin. It was as if this alone would keep back the demons of his past. This did nothing. His mind was slipping back into the thoughts of blood, the images which would haunt him until he died. It was more than this, though. This time he saw Lilith as if she were still living. Despair threatened to overwhelm Abel, but he didn't shove aside the memory, he couldn't. All he longed for was to see her, alive, just one last time, only once more.
