As the doors to the Chronoplast swung reluctantly open, Nosgoth's bleak future was greeted by a most unlikely parade. At the front strode Raziel, blue-skinned, black-winged, dressed in his trademark leather trousers and his recently-forged, plated pauldrons. Behind him walked Kain, one-time Emperor of the cracked wasteland he had inexplicably chosen to rule, his hands restrained behind his back, and an indecipherable expression on his face. Six Razielim Elite flanked the prisoner, their own armour glinting in the sanguine haze of the late afternoon sunlight, and their footsteps cautious - as much for fear of the individual they guarded as the unknown perils of this barren wilderness that was once their home. Bringing up the rear was the daunting figure of Isca, Raziel's own lieutenant, who dwarfed the slightly-built, bizzarely-clad female marching at his side.
The entire party, with the exception of Raziel, had been utterly astounded when Kain had seemingly succumbed without question to his former Lieutenant's commands, only to find their perplexity doubled when their Lord had, with apparent ease, snatched the Reaver from Kain's loose grasp. Later, when the Emperor had submitted meekly to being restrained by Raziel's Elite, Freya had begun to suspect that something was seriously amiss. Now, as she surveyed the landscape about her, her uneasy senses seemed to be alerting her to minute changes; but every time some flicker of imagined incongruity caught her eye, causing her to twitch her gaze in that direction, there would be nothing to be seen. The most disturbing thing about these flickers – imagined or otherwise - was that they reminded her of the energy pattern of the blast wave that had knocked her flat outside the Sarafan Stronghold shortly before they had found Raziel. And, as she let her eyes rove over her surroundings, she became increasingly convinced that the scenery was changing - slowly, subtly - almost imperceptibly, but nonetheless truly, leaving her with the unpleasant impression that Kain's changing of the timeline was finally starting to catch up.
As they progressed to the Warp Gate, the strangeness of the landscape was seemingly echoed in the steadily developing change in Raziel's persona; a change evidenced by the Dark lord's growing callousness towards his men, his increasing disdain for his sire, and ultimately, to complete the impression, his use of that laugh – the one to which Freya was well used from her time as Head Inquisitor. Why on earth should so sadistic a sound be emanating from Nosgoth's Messianic saviour? Eventually, the group emerged from the Warp gate in the unmistakeable, arid, almost clinical wasteland of Kain's later dominion, but a few hundred yards from the Sanctuary of the Clans.
Freya surveyed her surroundings in surprise, addressing Raziel directly in spite of the conviction that he would doubtless bite her head off for her audacity:
"I thought we were going to deal with the Hylden first,"
Kain pre-empted the cutting retort that Raziel had been about to utter: "I have already curtailed the Hylden threat."
Raziel glanced at his sire in sneering surprise. "How unlike you, Kain – to undertake such a menial chore yourself."
Kain smiled, his expression smug despite his bonds. "I have never shirked a task that involved bloodshed, Raziel."
The Dark Lord humphed in agreement, before inquiring, "What was it that caused their return?"
"Fragments of the nexus stone were embedded in the hilt of a sword I found in the Razielim stronghold." Freya's eyes widened at the news, instantly connecting these shards with those in the eye sockets of her demon-hilted katana: so the presence of the Hylden was due to that of her own weapon. She eyed the ground with a detached sensation of guilt as Kain continued. "The latent energy in the crystals opened a rift between Nosgoth and the demon dimension."
Freya's curiosity about his dispatching of the Hylden shortly overrode the unease she felt in Kain's company, prompting her to ask how he had accomplished the task.
Kain eyed her curiously, as though trying to place the voice that echoed from within the Sarafan helm. "Once the fragments were destroyed, the beasts were consigned to their prison once again – what was left of them," he added with a bloodthirsty grin.
Freya averted her eyes. Although this was not the Kain she knew so well, still his presence evoked disturbing recollections of his younger self, and that was sufficient to warrant her keeping conversation to a minimum.
The Sanctuary of the Clans loomed before them, its austere walls echoing with the memories of monumental battles, its gloomy halls still exuding an odour of blood for the amount that had been spilled beneath its steepled roof over the centuries. As the party trooped into the ill-lit chamber at the centre of the Sanctuary, Raziel looked from the Reaver's undulating blade to a faded patch of blood on the floor: the rusty ochre still stained the tiles where Kain had torn the bones from the untried flesh of his wings.
Raziel chuckled. "Ironic really, Kain. That your life should end here – at my hand." The malice in his voice was unmistakeable.
Freya removed her helmet and stepped forward, her uncertainty at the wisdom of the action the Vampire Lord was about to undertake emboldening her.
"This is not what you set out to do, Raziel. Your mission was to bring the human and vampire creeds together in a peaceful solution - what you propose contradicts Janos' advice to you. Besides, killing Kain could end all our lives."
Raziel glanced at her in irritation, his tone implying her dim-wittedness. "No, woman - not here, and not now. This Kain belongs to this time. From his point of view, he has already sired me – that cannot be undone."
He flashed the Reaver menacingly before the Master Vampire, allowing his prospective victim to appreciate his intentions, already deriving pleasure from the pre-act torment.
"Ever the showman, Raziel." commented the Emperor dryly.
"You taught me well, 'father'." The Dark Lord grinned back, mind afire with the potential dimensions of retribution that stretched before him in a veritable banquet of sadistic possibilities.
"But why?" persisted Freya, eliciting an exasperated and cautionary growl from Raziel. "Why would this action above all others restore Nosgoth's balance? Kain's time for sacrifice is past – the moment of opportunity that he had to complete the deed is long gone." She regarded the Vampire Lord distrustfully.
"You're just caught up in some sick revenge fantasy – killing Kain won't solve anything."
Raziel rounded on her, his scant patience evaporating.
"Perhaps not, but killing you might make me feel better," he threatened, his aggravation at the woman's incessant banter inducing him to take a step towards her. He was almost instantly confronted with the scowling countenance of his son as the younger vampire interposed his own redoubtable form between them.
"Stand aside."
Isca remained where he was, silently defying his sire.
Raziel's eyes narrowed. "I gave you an order. Move aside!"
Isca shook his head slowly, his diminishing trust in his Lord supplanted by his deep-rooted devotion to the woman he now protected. Seemingly dissuaded, Raziel moved as though to turn his attention to Kain, only to lash out against his son in an action of unequalled heartlessness - the blow knocking Isca violently to the ground, the cruel claws laying open the younger vampire's chest in a three-grooved slash.
Freya dropped to her knees at her lover's side, casting a horrified glance at the perpetrator of the uncalled-for deed. "What is wrong with you?"
"Nothing – at long last. I used to shy away from using my power to its full extent – ever keeping a tight rein on it – and for what? It accomplished nothing. I never truly understood the pleasure that comes from fully unleashed power until Moebius fell to my blade."
Freya stared at Raziel in realisation and horror. " . . . You killed him?"
"What of it? I thought it fitting that the Time-Streamer should die at my hands – he should not have manipulated me so." retorted Raziel, examining his bloodied claw.
Before she could respond, a horrific scream erupted from the base of the Pillars. As the three turned, they saw Kain, a look of satisfaction on his face, rise to his feet, effortlessly shattering his fetters and Immolating the guards who surrounded him without so much as a glance in their direction. His calculating gaze centred on Raziel as the bodies of the last of the Razielim Elite expired in blazing agony behind him.
"You were never destined . . ." came Freya's breathless voice from where she knelt at her stunned lover's side. At a warning growl from the Vampire Lord, Freya changed her wording, looking from Raziel to his approaching sire in dismay. "In the original time-line, Kain killed Moebius. In ending the Time-Streamer's life, you robbed Kain of the chance to ever take the decision to save the land: the Pillars were irredeemable to him from the very beginning."
Kain continued to stalk forward, an emotion akin to regret momentarily lightening his dour features.
"The fledge is correct," began Kain, pausing to afford Freya a further curious glance. "When I invoked that paradox so many centuries ago, I was trying to change the flow of probability. In one possible outcome, I sacrificed myself to save the Pillars, and the world flourished; in another, I refused the immolation and the land was damned; the third possibility, the one on which I had counted, would allow me to survive and the land to live again. That third outcome now holds sway," he informed his son with an almost regretful smile.
Raziel frowned suspiciously at him. "What do you mean?"
"Our destinies have been exchanged, Raziel. The one flaw in probability that I was counting on has come to pass. . .You killed Moebius."
Raziel took a step back, suddenly concerned despite the extent of the power coursing through him. "What are you saying?"
"You have taken my place in Nosgoth's destiny,"
Raziel shook his head in furious denial. "No!"
"Your actions precluded the possibility of my sacrifice."
"This cannot be!" averred the Dark Lord, desperately searching for a flaw in Kain's reasoning and finding none.
"You must die, my son, so that the land can be redeemed. Would you deny this world its salvation? You were named its saviour, after all . . ."
Raziel backed away towards the Pillars, the Reaver clutched tightly in one white-knuckled fist, still shaking his head defiantly.
Kain followed, his expression fatherly. "Give me the sword, and I promise I will end it quickly."
Raziel spat his hatred at his sire. "You think I would allow you to kill me twice?"
"There is no other way," The Emperor's voice was soothing, placating, fatalistic.
Raziel froze, his sire's words sparking the fire of conviction that had resided in his heart ever since his defeat of the Time-Streamer. "I would not be so sure if I were you."
Kain hesitated, slightly alarmed by his son's apparent change of demeanour.
Raziel crouched into a combative stance, the Reaver raised high, and his eyes aflame with passion and purpose. "If you can deny your destiny – then so can I."
"Janos charged you with this mission," countered Kain, glancing about for a weapon with which to defend himself. "If you refuse to complete it, you condemn us all."
Raziel's features twisted into a sneer as he carefully and spitefully enunciated every syllable of his response.
"Like father, like son."