Fade
Looking out at the endless space before him, Kratos fooled himself that he could still see Sylvarant and the small village with the boy in red. He could still hear the precious word on the boy's lips as though it had just been spoken.
"Dad."
For one moment they had not been two companions that had traveled together on a journey of regeneration. For one moment in all those seventeen years the boy in red had been his son.
Being here on Kharlan could not be called living. Being an angel here on Kharlan could not be called living. Kratos did not consider himself alive, in that sense, so he thought of someone who was - who might have been - alive.
And while the face and name had faded long ago from his memory along with all the other things along the way, he knew that somewhere, sometime, there had been a boy in red. And, for one moment, the boy had been his son.
This is the dead land
This is cactus land
Here the stone images
Are raised, here they receive
The supplication of a dead man's hand
Under the twinkle of a fading star.
Fin.
Thoughts: This drabble was an lj challenge from ages ago by Sabriel41. The challenge was: "So let's go with angels. Take your pick anyone with wings has to be a central image, whether the narrator or a major character. (Post-Game)"
The final bit is from a T. S. Eliot poem entitled "The Hollow Men".