Disclaimer: Yet again, I don't own any of the characters mentioned. If anyone actually reads these any more, I will be shocked.
Note: Thanks, Fallen Ryu, for your review. It got me to think about adding this chapter. And I hope to get more reviews. I would like to know what everyone thinks. It's rare for me, but it does happen. I hope you all enjoy the fourth chapter to Deadly Thoughts.
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I follow him into the dark, fleshy hallway. I don't know what makes me follow him, except for my future. My destiny.
What is Destiny? Surely we all wonder this, but why haven't we gotten any answers? Is it my destiny to follow my weak brother, my kin, into the heart of hell? And if so, what is to happen when I get there? Will I protect my captor? Or will I fight at the side of my enemy, once brother?
Once my brother. How the years pass, Dante. I wanted to save you once, and now regret the very thought.
I walk on with thoughts rushing through my mind as they always do, as they always did.
How long have I walked down this hall? Why do I not see the end? There is no light at the end of this darkness, no freedom. How long before I face my fate? Don't delay what is supposed to happen to me. I will welcome it with open arms. Just allow me the chance to face it while I still have the heart for it.
As though this were a dream, I move but gain no ground. Nothing has tried to stop me. Could it be that the devil believes I am going to try destroying him? It's not far from the truth. Or does he think I'm with Dante? Please. Never would I condescend so low as to join my enemy. Never would I help my killer.
A door appears ahead. It seems my "master" has heard my last thoughts and invites me. Little does he realize, in his pride, that I am not here to save him from my brother, but to kill him myself without hesitation. His pride seems to be boundless, like the darkness here in hell.
How long will he delay Dante?
It doesn't matter to me. I'll deal with him when we meet again.
I reach the door and raise my hand to push it open. My mind seems clearer now than it ever has been. For just this moment, my thoughts have gone silent. For a short while, I am a weapon. A weapon against everyone and everything I ever knew.
'Virgil, my son.' The voice again. What does it want? Why does it haunt me? 'Many faces does the devil wear,' it whispers. 'Trust not your eyes, but your heart.' What does it mean? Does my heart still see what is true? Or have I become so blind that my heart no longer chooses to see?
None of it matters now. My soul will either be lost forever, or be restored. I pray it will be the later. But who is it that I pray to? God? Surely he no longer even casts his eyes my way. I represent the very thing he despises. I can't imagine any reason he would have to look my way. I can't imagine why he would even do so willingly. So why do I pray to him? Or do I pray to myself? Do I hope against hope that I will answer my own prayers? Is this what everyone does? Or do I merely pray as a way of telling myself what I believe will happen. Telling myself that the dice of fate will roll in my favor.
Never mind. I'm tired of contemplating such ridiculous things. It's time to open the door to my future. It's time to discover what my own heart holds for what is to come. Who will be my enemy? Who will be my ally?
Slowly the door opens with such ease. Soft candlelight pours through the opening, flooding my vision. I have arrived at my destiny, as I know it. I have come to find who I truly am. What resides ahead, I don't know. But as with every day of my life, I will face it with no second thoughts. I will go on with no doubts.