Disclaimer: Trinity Blood and its characters do not belong to me. And Within Temptation could never be mine too.

Author's Note: Hello! Yes, a very fast update, because I'm stung with guilt at the super late one due to my clumsy calamity:( and why the previous chapter seemed so familiar was because part of it was a reference to the first chapter!:D cookies to you brainy people out there!!

There's gonna be quite a length of italics in this chapter, because there will be a major flashback. I'm not really giving out a spoiler, but just a fair warning should any of you be confused;)

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He's torn between his honour and the true love of his life

He prayed for both but was denied

~Hand of Sorrow - Within Temptation~

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Hand of Sorrow is a truly beautiful song. Yet another song to add to my Cain and Abel dedication music list. For the title, it's gotta be from Kirameku Namida wa Hoshi ni from the anime Fate/Stay Night, sung by Tainaka Sachi, one of my favourite Japanese singers.

Silver and Blond

Chapter 26: Michi wa Tsuzuku Nishi e Higashi e

(The road continues, westward and eastward)

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Abel walked through the strong wind that blew against his face, pushing back the strands that framed his face. His eyes, which used to shine with silent laughter during the days of an AX agent, now gleamed with an unreadable blue hue. It was an expression of coldness and mystery, one that Abel only wore when he had experienced death for the first time, and his soul had met Lilith's.

At that moment, he could feel the dead souls flying down from the sky and spreading across his shoulders, heaving their heavy weight down on his body. Abel could almost feel their sorrow clinging onto his feet and dragging themselves with each step he took. Cain too, had revealed the darkest side of him that Abel had seen ever since insanity had claimed his mind. Abel's heart was undeniably troubled, and he did need a confidant.

Caterina had been busy with Esther's coronation, and Abel had been strictly prohibited from seeking the presence of the other AX agents, as they knew not of his existence. Even his own grave had been marked in the Vatican burial ground. Abel saw his close friends, Leon, William and even Vaclav, visiting his grave. Their faces had been etched with sorrow, and it took Abel all his might not to rush forth to tell them of his true condition.

If it had not been for Caterina's silent plea in her grey eyes, Abel might have gone against the protocol. Laws seemed unimportant when the weight of the world crashed upon him. What were the countless decrees passed by Terrans who considered themselves superior when compared to the danger of another Armageddon emerging? The thought itself could have shocked a faint-hearted person very badly.

The Vatican had replaced Abel's priest robes with the robes of a knight of the Vatican, complete with a set of armour bearing the crucifix. However, Abel wore the spacesuit he had not worn for many years underneath his dark clothing. Somehow, it had been difficult for him to let it alone inside his cupboard in his room back in Rome.

When Abel had slipped the spacesuit on and gazed into the mirror, letting his hair free and taking off his glasses, he saw the same young man in the mirror that had seemingly been absent from his life during the times when he served the Catholic Church as a priest. Abel had quickly tied his hair back and slipped on his glasses when he found the unwanted memories slipping from the back of his mind, tormenting him with the reminiscent beauty of the times he held dear to his heart.

A faint sound of a person clearing his or her throat reached Abel's ears. When he turned to the left, he saw a cloaked figure, his face hidden save for several long strands of pale yellow that escaped from the under his hood. As Abel faced the person fully, the cloak was thrown aside, and a person seemingly young from his built came into sight.

Abel found himself staring into the auburn coloured eyes of Ion Fortuna, Childe of Moldova, Count of Memphis, and no other than the grandson of Mirka Fortuna. As Abel drew his brows together at Ion, the latter stepped forward.

"I knew of your revival from Esther," he said. Abel frowned, knowing that Esther would not have entrusted a secret of the Vatican to another person, let alone a Methuselah. Seeing the look of disbelief on Abel's face, Ion quickly continued. "She told me nothing, though I surmised for myself that it had to be it when the look in her eyes mirrored her own feelings."

Abel did not say a word, as though urging Ion to continue. "When a person dear to us has died, Father, we would be seen carrying a look of immense sadness and regret in our eyes, just as you always have been. However, if the person dear to us has left us on a mission where his life is not even vouchsafed to prevail, lost hope would play in shadows across our faces. Esther's face bore the latter."

Abel stared for a few moments at Ion, doubting for a second whether Ion had truly discovered all he did by merely interpreting what Esther's emotions portrayed. Sensing Abel's insecurity, Ion spoke once more. "Unlike Terrans, we Methuselah have a sharp sense of smell. Your scent was unmistakable, especially when it stands out from the rest, different than that of a Terran and Methuselah. It was by your scent that I managed to track you here."

Abel then wondered whether Ion knew of him being a Crusnik, but judging by the knowing look on Ion's face, Abel was certain that the young Methuselah was one of the few who possessed the information.

"For the past seven months, I've been tracking down Cain Knightlord," said Abel to Ion, getting straight to the point. However, he tried his best to keep any feeling out of his voice when he spoke Cain's name. Abel was unsure whether Ion was capable of being trusted, though his heart whispered to him of the honest look in Ion's eyes. "Cain Knightlord is the one of the leaders of the Rosen Kreuz Orden, besides Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer, the Methuselah who was responsible for much genocide launched by the Orden."

Abel looked up to the sky, searching the clouds for a sign that could not see. How in the world did Cain expect Abel to navigate his way to find the other Crusnik?

"If he is indeed who you say he is, then I offer my assistance to you, Nightroad-sama," Ion said humbly, even bowing slightly before Abel. The blue eyes travelled to the bowed head, and Abel gave a sigh. It seemed almost cruel of him to pull Ion into the endless maze he now stood in.

"Your Lordship, I do not deserve to receive such a high honour from you," Abel admitted frankly, hoping to discourage Ion somewhat. The Methuselah did not budge from his spot.

"Nightroad-sama, the Orden has done much damage to me as well as my race. They infiltrated the palace, fired up the spirits of the hardliners, and even attempted assassination upon the Empress herself." Ion paused for a while, his serious voice turning soft as he said the last sentence. "And they took my tovaras, Radu, from me." Abel looked to Ion, feeling the sadness that almost mirrored his own. But then, Ion raised his head, his expression determined and strong.

"Because of all I have mentioned, and including the countless deaths of both Terran and Methuselah, I will fight alongside you. And Nightroad-sama, I wish us to be as equals while we journey on this lofty quest. Therefore, I beseech you to call me by my name. I believe that you are more deserving of respect compared to me."

Abel shook his head kindly at Ion. "You are of noble lineage of the Empire. I accept your offer of being equals, but I shall nevertheless address you as Ion-sama." At Abel's statement, Ion's serious face turned into a smile, but reverted to its grave expression when Abel moved forth towards the hills that overlooked the view of the lost city of Alexandria, deserted for decades. Why had he chosen to start at that place, Abel could find no reason located within the chambers of his mind. But somehow, there was a feeling, a strange feeling of that refused to relent from tugging on his instincts.

Ion stepped close to him, resolution shining in his face. He seemed so determined and serious; yet so sincere in fighting the cause Abel and he shared. Abel felt a strange comfort arise within him, with the knowledge that the battle he faced was not only between the evil and him alone.

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The City of Aswan, The New Human Empire

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Cain raised his head up slightly from the slashed neck of the Methuselah he fed on. The golden bangs that fell over his forehead were now stained with the crimson hue of fresh blood. Cain's blue eyes shone a piercing red, his smile widening and baring sharp white teeth while he felt the nanomachines speed up the recovery processes that occurred throughout his body. The pain, which gnawed at his shoulder, now lessened to a dull sensation, which did not seem to disappear. However, it was nothing what Cain could not cope with.

The hunger that was subdued temporarily suddenly returned at a full force, and Cain found himself plunging his face into the girl's neck, his jaws wide open, his teeth ready to mark fresh new wounds. The girl gave a futile attempt to struggle, which was quickly silenced by Cain's claws digging into her flesh. Despite that, the girl still thrashed against his hold, however fruitless her efforts seemed to be. Her determination was unwavering, though the firm set of her jaw was not seen as Cain's long blond strands covered her face.

Cain drew in the last drop of blood in her body mercilessly as the form he held in his arms became unmoving and turned colder and colder with each second that passed. Finally, when he could draw no more blood from her lithe body into him, Cain gave an unsatisfied sigh and slowly sat on his knees, looking at the dead girl.

Her green eyes were wide open, as well as her mouth which opened in the shape of an 'O', both features giving the impression that she had seen a terrible vision during the last few moments of her life. When Cain's eyes went down to survey the rest of her body, he stared for a reasonably long time at her neck. The skin was torn apart savagely, the fine bones of her neck jutting out from the open flesh, as though an animal had ripped her throat out. The blood vessels were severed, their ends poking out from the large opening.

Had Cain been a normal person, he would have rushed out first thing after witnessing such a horrific scene and heave a mouthful of sick. Her skin was deathly pale, even paler than normal dead people were, due to the unbelievable amount of blood drawn out from her body, for Cain had left not a single drop. The girl was spread-eagled out on the floor, her clothes torn in force, not to bare her body, but as though someone had gripped on her clothing too firmly to still her frantic movements.

Finally, Cain's eyes rested on her hair. The colour of her perfectly formed ringlets was scarlet, though it shone a dark red in the moonlight. Cain narrowed his eyes at the familiar red hue, and pulled out a curl from her head. He looked most carefully at the ringlet, loving the way it curled around his fingers. Then, his gaze returned to the girl's shocked face. If only she had been a blond or black-haired, she would have possessed the chance to live another day.

"Your hair killed you, my pet," Cain told her, as though the girl still had life in her form and had been listening to Cain. However bizarre the statement seemed at that time, truth rang within each of the words.

Giving yet another of his sighs, Cain stood up and headed for the door, feeling extremely lucky that the young girl had lived alone. The last thing he needed were alarmed family members rushing to the scene, their faces full of vibrant anger, fingers curled into fists, their violent actions speaking louder than their harsh words.

When Cain last looked back at the girl, he saw for a moment the dead body of Lilith, spread-eagled on the floor, though Lilith's face had not been bearing the expression of shock as the girl that stood a few feet from him did. Shaking his head quickly, Cain exited the house, his face now painted with a satisfied expression.

So far, the three months he had spent in Aswan had been perfect. Every month, a young Methuselah girl would be the sacrifice to appease the hunger that raged within him. Cain could still remember the events that had happened when his strange appetite made its debut appearance.

The pain in his torn wing and wounded shoulder was excruciating, but Cain was more than thankful that he had bound his wound tightly with the torn fabric of his white cloak until he was extremely assured that no blood would trickle out from the wound. The last thing he needed was a trail of blood that pointed out the places he ventured to. Despite the fierceness of the previous battle with Abel, Cain's spacesuit hardly experienced any damage. The bloodstains had now disappeared from the fabric, leaving an impossibly stark whiteness.

Finally, the familiar sight of the tall belfry met Cain's eyes, and he found a smile settling on his flustered expression. But Cain could no longer fly, and he had to make a landing before he fell. As Cain's vision grazed the ground below, he met the beautiful eyes of a young man, alone in the garden, looking straight at him.

Cain smirked to himself, landing gracefully onto the ground despite his injuries. At seeing the Crusnik in such a terrible state, Dietrich rushed to Cain, a frown settling upon his fine features.

"Cain-sama, what happened to you?" asked Dietrich concernedly.

Cain merely bent over, trying to catch his breath. The flight from Alexandria to Berlin had been more than exhausting, and Cain felt more drained than he had ever been. He needed Methuselah blood, fast. Brushing past the Terran, Cain strode across the courtyard towards the entrance. Dietrich followed, his gaze more confused than ever.

"I don't understand," Dietrich admitted ruefully. Only with Cain and Isaak did his express his true feelings, for Dietrich had always looked at them both in a different way compared to the others. Cain was the person who inspired him during his lonely childhood, and together, Cain and Isaak had nurtured Dietrich into the person he was now.

"Didn't you say that you'd return with Isaak-sama and Guderian? Where are they now? And who injured you?"

When Cain did not reply, Dietrich started to be wary. It was not like Cain to act this way, ignoring his every word. It was as though a thick wall of ice separated him from the blond Crusnik. And Cain's face had that chilling expression, one he wore before a massive killing. Unless-

In a period shorter than one could draw in a breath of air, Cain snapped Dietrich's puppet strings like a dry twig with the mere wave of his arm. He could hear Dietrich give an exclamation of a surprise, bringing a glint into his blue eyes. Cain finally whirled around, giving a smile.

"You thought that Melchior was the only person who could resist your puppet strings, Terran?" Cain demanded mockingly.

At the sound of the word 'Terran', Dietrich involuntarily flinched. No one in the Orden, not even Isaak, had once addressed him by that degrading word. Even Cain had never used it on him, and hearing it from the Crusnik's lips made Dietrich narrow his eyes. The wait that Dietrich had gone through, each day hoping for a word from his mentor or idol had merely been the calm before a storm. And Dietrich had a sickening feeling in his stomach that there was more to Isaak and Guderian's absence than met the eye.

"It is a waste, such beauty and intelligence bequeathed to a Terran, and not a Methuselah," Cain remarked to Dietrich's face, loving it when the colour vanished from the boy's complexion. Satisfied with his progress, Cain carried on.

"Do you know how low I've stooped over the years of having you in the Contra Mundi? A Terran, of all people! An utter disgrace to me, I- Major Cain Knightlord of the Alliance Aerospace Navy, one of the few in the past who bore the great title of Magus- allowing some Terran filth to join the Order of the Magi and the Rosen Kreuz Orden, the new face of the Contra Mundi. If it had all been up to me, I would have killed you right away in Germanicus!

"You who were so stunned at seeing a being more powerful and superior to you, you hungered for my praise and attention. Well, the painful truth was that you were never more than what you are now- nothing more than some filthy Terran scum- regardless of your abilities. You were never as excellent as the average Methuselah, what more a Crusnik? That was Isaak's ultimate flaw, dreaming of a haven of genetically perfect beings. That can never be realised, none on this world can match the splendour of the genetic structure of the Crusniks.

"Therefore, I must confess that I am thoroughly exhausted with both Methuselah and Terran, you are all greedy, conceited, selfish pigs. And I'll tell you what, nothing will ever satisfy you, even if someone offered you the world, you'd only lust for more. Well, here's one thing to smother that blasted ego of yours, we Crusniks didn't just have power over Earth; we ruled Mars itself."

Dietrich's eyes widened even more when heard the last statement. Even though he had known the many facts of the Red Mars Project by heart, the fact itself still stunned him as though it had been his first time hearing it.

"So that makes us Crusniks gods."

Dietrich could not bear the degradation sewn through Cain's soft seductive voice echoing in his ears any longer. With an undignified yell of fury and uncontained outrage, Dietrich launched himself at Cain with all he had.

The only sounds that followed were a choked gasp from Dietrich and the chilling sound of Cain's cruel laughter echoing through the room. Dietrich lay at Cain's feet, dark red blood pooling out from his mouth. His eyes were wide open, his face contorted from the searing flames of pain that rushed through his body, starting from the large gaping circle bordered with charred flesh in the middle of his lower torso. Dietrich knew his alimentary canal had suffered an extensive amount of damage, and knew that he had only seconds to live.

A ringing sound of footsteps echoed in his ears, and he knew that Cain stood over him, leering at his dying body.

"So frail," Cain whispered. "Just a pulverised beam of energy, and that spells the end of your pitifully short life."

Dietrich struggled and turned his face to the side to look into the cool, deceiving blue of Cain's eyes. Cain only smiled sweetly at the glare Dietrich fixed on him.

"I really don't feel like being nasty, so where are my manners?" Cain said offhandedly, and knelt down to see the life slipping out of Dietrich's beautifully shaped eyes. "Any last words?" sang Cain.

Dietrich coughed first, before grating out through his clenched teeth. "Bastard."

This only caused laughter to erupt from Cain's chest and the blond threw back his head and howled madly. "Like father like son, right?" Cain asked, and paused to think awhile. "No, that's not right. Like mentor like protégé, yes, that's more like it. You know Dietrich that that was the same thing Isaak said to me. Isn't it beautiful? You and him dying the glorious death of life's true warriors like warrior poets. Ah… I'm almost jealous," Cain remarked with a wink. Then, the humour slipped from his eyes and was replaced with cold blue orbs.

"In the first place, I never had parents," Cain said stonily. "Just a group of demented scientists whose twisted experiment produced the most beautiful outcome; the origination of gods."

With that, Cain stood up and prepared himself to leave. Suddenly, he paused in his tracks and looked once more at the crumpled form of Dietrich.

"Just let this be the last words you hear before your miserable existence is wiped off this cursed planet. If we Crusniks are gods, and the Methuselah low-life mortals, that would definitely put you pathetic Terrans as something less than dirt underneath our shoes."