Interlude I - Someday, Lasting, Serenade

"In the entire english language, the kindest, and sometimes, the most difficult words a person can ever say to another is; 'I forgive you.'"

xxx

He was lying face-down in the dark. His clothes were a little torn from his last battle, holes ripped into his shirt and jacket from where the wires and cables had struck him mercilessly, though thankfully, all of his wounds and injuries seemed to have disappeared. He did not notice this, but his hands, which had previously been encased in hard unfeeling black metal, had flaked away like discarded scales while he had lain unconscious, revealing untouched human hands underneath. They were cold and pale, slightly marred in places where the metal armor had connected to the softer skin underneath. Those imperfections were gradually melting away though, disappearing as his healing factor worked without fault.

Everything around him was muffled by the intense darkness, and all of his senses seemed to be stolen from him, existing without the aid of sight or anything else. Actually, it felt like he only had one sense left, and that sense was everything, like he was part of something far greater than he could ever comprehend. However, it made him feel incredibly small and weak on the inside, having trouble remembering what had happened or why he was there. Ravendor groaned and pushed himself up with his arms, feeling as stiff as a frozen corpse. He noticed that his clothing was in tatters and soaked in dark black blood, by this time now dried. Forcing his joints to work, Ravendor was able to sit up at last.

… What happened?

The landscape was completely destitute, bearing nothing but blackness. It was like an unformed dream world, or in his own case, a world of unending nightmares. This would probably become the nightmare that would never end. There was nothing around him, nothing above or below him. There was just… nothing left. The last thing he could remember was the entire cavern collapsing, and a muted explosion that he never got a chance to see. That was it, though. He couldn't recall anything else, though it seemed like an eternity had passed since that event.

I guess I died…

The bandit leader slowly raised his hand and brushed some of his hair behind his ear, having been loosened from it's ponytail a short while before his death. By all right he should have been in agony from his grave injuries, wherever they had disappeared to. It was true that he could heal fast, but no demon in Filgaia could heal that fast. Ravendor touched his chest, where the horrific gunshot wound should have been. It was not there. In death, he guessed, there must be no pain. A world without pain. How laughably remarkable…

I have desired this place for so long… But now, it does not seem to be the Eden that I have hoped for… yearned for…

Ravendor felt isolated from everything else, something telling him that there were no other signs of life around for hundreds and hundreds of miles. He was in a place certainly unreachable to all forms of life. His limbs felt heavy and tired, like he hadn't slept soundly or peacefully in years. The floor he was sitting on felt solid, but at the same time, silky like velvet or satin. It didn't feel like any earthly plane of existence.

So this is death.

… Is this what death is like?

Ravendor shivered, drawing his knees up under his chin and then wrapping his wings around his body for extra warmth. It didn't help very much, but he felt a little better than before. Bowing his head, he tried to ignore the frigidness of death and focussed on warmer things, though he couldn't think of any at the moment. The temperature had dropped so rapidly in a few seconds that it was almost impossible, his heart felt like it was frozen into a block of ice. The feathers didn't help much in dispelling that inner frost, the cold that had risen in his own heart. Nothing external could save him from that.

The others escaped… didn't they? I did… do the right thing… didn't I?

His mind felt like a sieve, and all the memories of his life were being drained away so that nothing tangible remained. It felt numbing, the erasure, but also a little soothing and pleasant. Was this the purpose of death? Ravendor didn't like to admit it, but he felt afraid. What would become of him now? Was he destined to Hell like all the other sinners of the world? He had always believed that death was like an eternal sleep, but now, though his body was tired, he was very much awake and in doubt of his original beliefs. Was he going to burn forever in crimson hellfire for his sins? But then, why did his body feel so cold?

So cold…

Is this the answer…?

Is this what I was looking for…?

There was something small and metallic in his hand, attached to a thin chain. Upon realizing this, he squeezed it slightly, wondering what it was. The specter of his silver cross pulsed to warm life in his hands, like a holy light shining into his dark and isolated world. It was pure, magical, almost ethereal in it's structure, untouched by blight or a tarnishing curse. Ravendor had trouble remembering where it came from, somewhere important, somewhere special, from a very special person, a long time ago. He wracked his mind for an answer. It was important, it was his most precious possession. Wait. Hadn't he given it away only a little while ago? To who? To somebody…

…Kaitlyn…

He felt his eyes start to burn from sadness and he didn't try to suppress the silent tears anymore, breathing steadily and crying quietly as his memories were gradually stolen away. Soon, he wouldn't even remember the reason for his crying in the first place. Unaware of this from his current predicament, Ravendor's wings were slowly changing colour from a deep dark black to something else, like a great big ink stain in reverse. It stung slightly, but he did not notice. Ravendor's hand tightened as his silver cross disintegrated into the darkness with a vapid sparkle, where he would never see it again. He wouldn't need it, anyway. Ravendor felt the darkness close all around him, suffocating him, trying to absorb him into it's eternal night, for an ever-lasting and never-ending sleep. He didn't care. He felt no reason why he should care. He deserved this punishment, anyway. But still, he couldn't help but hope and wish that things were different.

… My Kaitlyn… God, I miss her…

Please… God… Bring her back…

It was a prayer.

He had prayed.

Something warm touched the soft outside of one of his half-stained wings and brushed it gently aside, the dark-haired man too tired to resist any kind of outer force right now. Carefully, tentatively, that same warmth touched the back of his hand, and Ravendor stiffened, hardly expecting anybody to touch him in the middle of the deep darkness, away from all trace of life. The touch felt heavenly and incredibly warm, sympathetic and close, like the touch of a loving mother, or a caring friend. Timidly, he raised his head and looked up at the owner of the warmth, his black fringe partially obscuring his jade-green eyes. All at once, Ravendor's heart suddenly froze in his chest, completely paralyzed. "No…" He said, bewildered. "No…"

Kaitlyn smiled at him, her pale azure eyes wistful and beautiful. She was beside him, close to him, a divine aura visibly emanating from her body with her pale hand over his. Her long golden-white hair had lengthened and trailed all the way down to her legs, in radiant waves, and she was dressed in a flowing white airy robe, like an angel, a true messenger of Heaven. She had aged a little, just enough to be equal to Ravendor's own age, in her late twenties or early thirties, and altogether, she emitted a kind of calm that was simply not earthly. She was, Seraph was now an angel, a true angel. There was no denying it. She was there.

"Hello Ravendor." She said.

The dark-haired man was at a total loss for words, he was staring at her as if he had never seen anybody else before in his entire life. It felt like his heart had finally stopped beating, or that every part of his body had become petrified all at the same time, though his consciousness still seemed to be awake. He blinked a couple of times, just to see if his vision was correct. Was he hallucinating? "… Seraph… how… but I, … you were…" He stumbled terribly in his speech, for the first time unable to dredge up any words at all. He was completely tongue-tied. "Im… Impossible…" He finally managed to stutter, unable to look away, trembling a little in a mixture of fear and disbelief.

With utmost care, Kaitlyn took his hand and allowed Ravendor to sit up onto his knees, the stains on his wings spreading fast. His hands felt cold as ice, while she was so warm, filled with holy life. Softly, she pressed his hand against her cheek and closed her eyes. "My Ravendor…" She crooned softly. "I have been waiting here for you, for such a very long time. My soul has already moved on towards another life, a newer life, but this part of me, the part that you kept alive in your heart, this part stayed here to wait for you, to wait until you returned. I could not leave until I saw you one last time. I've missed you, my darling…"

"You were waiting… here… for me?" He asked her breathlessly, moving his arm down so that he could lightly grip her shoulder, not quite sure if she was there or not. She felt solid, tangible. No, this couldn't be true. Wasn't he alone? Had somebody been waiting for him, after all this time? Even after all the horrible crimes he had committed? Was that even possible? "You waited…" He repeated himself, trying to convince himself that he spoke the truth, "I thought I was all alone, but you waited…"

"Yes Ravendor." Kaitlyn replied in her soft and gentle voice. "I waited for you. In here." She placed her small pale hand over his heart, trying to show him a truth that he should have known all along. "As long as you loved me, you were never alone. I never left your side. We were always together, my love." Languidly, she reached her hand up and brushed a few strands of loose hair out of his face, still smiling. Then, she brushed his silent tears away. "You have cried silently throughout your entire life, haven't you, Ravendor? It is okay now. Everything is over. You do not have to hide your pain. You do not have to cry silently anymore."

Shedding a couple of soundless tears that rolled down his cheeks, he didn't even notice when the tattoos all over his body, part of his sinful past, slowly disappeared. He closed his eyes. "Kaitlyn, I have done some terrible things. I have killed so many people. I wish… I wish that I could be forgiven… but not even God can forgive me now. Nobody can save me… Nobody…" He bit his lip, trying to prevent himself from worsening his sadness. "I am not deserving of… your love." He whispered.

"Ravendor…" Kaitlyn whispered, leaning forward so that they were practically embracing each other. "The only person who can forgive you is the person you have sinned the most against. Clive has forgiven you, and you have forgiven Clive. If you think… that your inability to help me and Isabelle was your own fault, then that is your decision to make. But Ravendor, listen to me." Lowering her hand so that it gently brushed against his cheek, she bowed her head solemnly. "I forgive you." She said simply, and with warmth.

"You… forgive… me…?" Ravendor echoed, hardly able to talk.

That was all he needed to hear. Letting out a choked sob, Ravendor suddenly threw himself forward and grabbed Kaitlyn in a rough embrace, falling like a scared child into her lap with his arms around her middle. He started to cry audibly, thirty-three years of pent-up up emotion coming out all at once. The sobs took him and carried him just as they would; he had no power to stop or stay them. He could not moderate his grief, and at last found, with deep incoherent relief, that he had no urge to do so. All he had ever wanted was Kaitlyn and her forgiveness, and now he had at last received it. He was shaking with tears, but at the same time, he was also joyously happy, happier than he had ever been before in his entire life. She was right. Everything was now finally over. His pain was gone.

Kaitlyn tenderly stroked Ravendor's dark ebony hair as he cried, off-handedly glancing at his long feathered wings that had unfurled when he had moved. They were no longer stained, and they were no longer symbols of evil. "God's messengers are not born, they are chosen." Kaitlyn said softly, leaning down to kiss her deceased lover. "And one has to go through Hell… to find a home in Heaven."

They were now a pure snowy white, like the colour of a dove's wing.

True angel wings.

And God had finally answered.