Resurrection
by: Anansi's child
Disclaimer: I am a fangirl, and a struggling college student. Not exactly the sort of person to own a successful franchise right?
Warnings: Slight slashiness that you could go cross-eyed trying to spot, and the normal darkness that LoK is associated with. Come on, no one reads LoK fics without expecting a certain amount of darkness right?
...Estuans interius, ira vehementi...
Estuans Interius, by Carl Orff
He fell, and as he fell, he screamed.
Pain blossomed on his skin, acid seeped into his eyes and rage suffused his heart.
A fool he must seem to those he once called brethren-a puppet, obeying without question, to the very end. He laughed a laugh that did not quite sound sane. And vaguely noted he was, after all, screaming a word.
Vengeance.
He did not hear his laughter, though.
He felt himself burning-his body with the acid touch of water, and his soul with his rage against the one who had betrayed him.
His Lord.
Kain knows Raziel will never forgive him for what he had to do. How could he? Loyal Raziel, who would have given him his soul had he asked. Loyal Raziel, who had loved him. He wonders if the twinge of regret in his heart is for his lost son or for the path that fate has once more set before him-no, them.
From his chambers, the Vampire Emperor waits for the sun to set. Though the fumes of the Dark Eden covers the sky, he feels the movement of the sun still. It will be soon, when his other sons' fledgelings rise.
His sons' fledglings, his pawns. What difference is there, truly?
It is time.
He rises as he always had. He rises to do what he must.
He did not question his sire's actions-no one but a fool did. He did wonder, however, why so harsh?
Wings, of course. Fool he was for even wondering. Such an evolution would change all of Nosgoth, perhaps even give Raziel the ability to surpass their God.
No, he felt no pity for his forsaken brother. Foolish Raziel, not to have foreseen their God's reaction. The myths are full of such situations. The story among the cattle, for instance, of a girl turned into a spider for daring to surpass her weaver-goddess; the tale whispered in the depths of the night, of an entire race, damned for daring to deny their god. And now, a vampire prince, destroyed for daring to achieve what his God could not.
What happened to Raziel was a lesson, one he would take to heart. And nothing more.
The vampire Turel heard his master's call.
He rises and walks to his master's throne room, as he always had.
While Dumah did not understand his sire's action, he did understand the warning hidden in it. No one, not himself, not Turel, not even Melchiah-cowardly, lurking Melchiah who would not even dream of surpassing any of them-was safe. One wrong act, one wrong move, and he knew that the long fall could be his due.
Even as he wondered what place could possibly be a safehold should he one day find himself in Raziel's place, he knew that if that day ever dawned, he would be dead regardless.
He heard his sire's summons.
And he rises to hear his words, as he always has.
Water... water is good. Water is comforting, after the shock of seeing Raziel-proud, powerful Raziel-brought so low so easily.
Water... vampires feared it, justly for it did burn them as fire did, and at times more easily. It was agony to them, and I shuddered at the thought of such pain. I was immune to the caustic effects of water, my last evolution had seen to that. I had no doubt, however, that my lord would find a way to cause me as much pain, should he ever decide that I needed to be brought low.
I could almost feel pity for Raziel. While I am certain that we had schemed against each other as much as we had against everyone else, I had respected the first born. Or at least more than I did the second. How galling that I now had to give Turel that respect.
Raziel... May you have peace, brother, wherever your pathetic soul finally falls.
My lord speaks, calling me to a council.
I rise to hear his commands, just as I always have.
It seems strange to me, that our leader would order Raziel's death for that. Imprisonment, torture, perhaps, but not death.
Dear Raziel, to him, but certainly not to anyone else. For that, if for nothing else, I would have thought our leader would spare him.
It is a warning to all of us, I think, and I fully intend to heed it.
Of course, his death opens new opportunities to me, and I intend to seize them. After all, do not spiders devour even their own mates? Skilled though he maybe, Turel is nowhere near as brilliant as our dead, unlamented brother.
I do wonder if he'll be next.
Hmm... I must leave my musings for another time. Our leader calls.
I rise to hear his plans, just as I always have.
Melchiah dreams. In his dreams, he sees blood and pain and bone, all one vampire's. He sees his maker's face, shocked and almost uncertain when he first saw, then cruel (no, his mind whispers, regretful) as claws reached out to rip asunder bones and skin and flesh.
He dreams, and he sees the fallen one, the broken one, fall into the abyss. His eyes were wide, agonized confusion warring for dominance with pained disbelief, and Melchiah thinks the screaming could go on forever.
And he wishes that it would stop, for it reminds him too much for what could one day be his fate.
It ends when he wakes.
It ends, for it is replaced by the voice of his maker.
He rises to join his maker as he always had
The unseen sun had set some hours ago, and one of the Dumahim made his way to the vast plain before his god's abode. His master, the vampire lord Dumah had called a gathering of the clan, and he marveled at it. In the hundred years he had been a vampire, never once had the entire clan been summoned.
With a start, he noticed that the Turelim were also gathering, and were the Rahabim... No... his eyes widened as he realized that all the clans were coming. There, the skittering Zephonim, there, the lurching Melchiachim. All that were missing were the Razielim, and he wondered why.
The answer came as, not six, but five of his unholy God's lieutenants appeared.
It was time for them to slaughter once more. He relished the thought, and wondered how sweet another vampire's blood would taste.
Eagerly, he rises, rises to obey, as he had always done.
The fledgeling was excited. His lord had gone to present himself to their emperor, and he knew, he just knew that it meant the Razielim would be exalted above all the other vampire clans. They would give their emperor control of the skies, and he would reward them for it.
The fledgeling smiles at the thought, and remains smiling even as an unseen dart picks out his heart.
He rises off the balcony he had been standing on and falls to the ground far below.
He does not rise again.
His cries are exhausted, as is his sanity. All that he has now is hate.
So he hates, and he hates, and he hates.
He hates, even as the pain becomes a part of his identity. He takes the pain, and feeds it to his hate.
He hates, even as water dissolves his jaw, his skin, his entrails. He takes the water, and it distills him into a creature of hate.
And he swears that he will one day rise once more.
He will rise.
End
Author's note:
Raziel was excecuted the night before (almost dawn) and the story takes place from just before dusk to, well excluding Raziel's parts, around dawn of the next night. Melchiah wakes a bit later than the rest of his brothers.
It's random. I know-I wrote it at 2 am on 4 hours of sleep the last time I did sleep. Which was too long ago, I may add.
I'm sleepy now.
This has nothing to do with my other fic. That other one is giving me slight problems.
Comments welcomed, desired and highly appreciated.