Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own Slayers in any way, shape, or form. (I only wish I did) I'm just a poor college student writing to keep my sanity.

Felt like doing a one-shot. No names are mentioned directly, but I'm sure everyone can figure out who is who. Enjoy!

: When your throat burns inside out with acid, and your eyes cry jagged pins of ice. :

He never realized how vile blood could taste. Almost pulsing with a life of its own, the warm liquid ran from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. After years of reveling in the blood and pain of both others and himself, it seemed odd to find only repulsion for it now.

Spitting a mouthful of his own blood to one side, he closed his eyes against the agony of even that small amount of movement brought. With effort he drew in another breath, accompanying it with a loud hiss of pain. Closed eyes shed a tear or two, the salty water burning a trail across his skin before being absorbed. So this was how pain felt. Pain had always been sweet before, something to be savored and treasured like rare wine. Now it had the bitterness of bad tea, and it's sting was that of fresh saltwater in a wound.

: When your ears ring with the roar of silence, and caring too much is your only vice. :

He couldn't hear the others anymore. His army had fled, the few survivors heading off to warn any that would listen. He had hoped they would take his fall better, but in his heart he knew mere lower Mazoku lacked true military discipline. They weren't to blame.

He had been the blind one. Somewhere in his long life he had made the mistake of opening himself up to emotion, more specifically the emotion of caring for another. It was a mistake he wouldn't have the chance to repeat. The thought made him laugh, though he couldn't hear the hollow echo of his voice. He felt it in his heart, something he would once have denied having, and the silence rang louder than any battle.

: Only then will you finally seek the answers, and only then will you truly hear the lies. :

Despite countless years as a Mazoku general, years spent planning battle strategies, destroying kingdoms, and seducing various targets, he hadn't seen the betrayal coming. She had smiled so sweetly, but a fiery temper and power to match hid just behind that smile. Hair of flame and eyes of blood had grabbed him, drawing his soul in like the sweetest of kills. For years they had traveled together, both drawn to each other time after time, all the while pretending that no connection existed. Oh, he had played right into her hands.

The other generals, Mazoku he had fought beside and against for years, had warned him against her. Claims of assassin and seductive mage had been thrown about. Evidence had been shown, some by his own hand, yet he had dismissed it with the simplest excuse. She was only a mortal after all, she was only dangerous because he let her be. The ballads he had once scoffed were right in one respect; even the wisest man can be a fool where love is concerned.

: The autumn leaves fall due to rain, and the rain falls from my bleeding hope.
Only sleep cuts through the pain, where nightmares bind like burning rope. :

The duels had started gradually. A simple fight to defend a lady, another to protect his assignment. Duels were waged among the morning dew, and he told himself it was only due to boredom. She was just a distraction, a safe temptation under his control.

Friends, if he truly considered anyone a friend, and strangers alike fell to his magic, scattering before him like dead leaves. With each ally slain he had been pulled deeper into her web. Another coil of rope to bind his soul, another line of convenient friendship severed. Sleep, something done for amusement, had brought ghostly warnings, but he had paid them no heed. They were jealous, all of them. They wanted to steal his prize, something he couldn't allow.

: When the last god falls to bitter prophets, and the pacifists all rise up in arms. :

He converted her in the spring. Against the wishes of all he brought her into his ranks, promising her Mazoku power and immortality the moment she had asked. Everyone that could afford to had pulled away, and even his master had looked upon him with dark eyes. He hadn't bound her to his master, or even himself, and he would suffer for it. Threats had followed, and they eventually left the island entirely. Better an unfamiliar home than one with shadowy attacks waiting just out of sight. Everyone was considered an enemy…everyone but her.

: When children turn to slay their parents, and the long abused forget their scars. :

He still remembered how bright his masters blood had been. What had started as a simple talk had quickly escalated beyond mere family concern. Another duel, another death. The cost had been high, but worth it. Even his family had turned on him, but they were in the wrong. His master simply hadn't liked the possibility of being replaced. The pain of her death had scarred him, but it was just another assignment, just another thing that had to be done.

: Only then will you finally know the truth, and only then will you toss it all away. :

The attack had been a surprise. He didn't know what spell she had used, but he barely survived. Attacking was bad enough, but she had done so while he slept. Finally he realized the truth, and he cursed himself for the past. She would pay, and he would take her blood as payment for his masters. Despite her treachery, he still loved her. If anything he loved her more for such ambition. He was a general though, and an example had to be made. He had killed thousands in battle. What was a single woman?

: The autumn leaves fall due to rain, and the rain falls from my bleeding hope.:
: Only sleep cuts through the pain, where evil stalks my very soul. :

The wind was so gentle here. Despite his fading eyesight, he could still see the trees nearby. Golden leaves tumbled around him, a gentle rain to a dying general. He had loved an assassin, and a magic spell had found his heart. Blindness had dogged his footsteps, and many had suffered for it. Only now, through bloodstained eyesight, could he see the truth.

Despite all his efforts she still lived, and part of him was thankful for that. In the coming centuries his name would be forgotten, along with the horror it once held. She would remember though, even if she stopped caring. With that in mind, he let the last wisps of life drift away.

Smiling, he let the blood drip from his mouth. In roaring silence he closed his eyes, remembering better days. Gradually blood-colored gold formed a grave around him, while raindrop leaves made a cloak to block the pain.