Falling Leaves

By far, autumn is my favorite season over any other, even the Darkfall. The air, laden with the smell of dry leaves, moist leaves, earth, and chill is invigorating. I can blow my breath in a tube and have it appear to me in the form of a white ghost. I can crumple a leaf between my fingertips, and feel the texture of the dead thing on my skin - excitingly itchy and brittle.

To be in such a state of mind, in such a golden time, is more than I could have prayed for. I truly am blessed by Him for this, to be able to experience this novelty, over and over again. Seeing the various preparations for the harvest festivals, to be so invigorated by the four senses is an experience I'm not wishing to pass. To think I would have dulled this out, that I would have stowed away myself underneath layers and layers of reservations, in turn with wide smiles of the toothy kind, is madness.

My only regret is that I am alone. As I look at the vague changes of color, as I sit and watch them even as they change, for hours on end, I feel it acutely. When I stare into the sky, my mind drifts back to years ago when I used to stare at the same sky with a kindred spirit. We would sit on a rock, and I would profess a young affectation for her, and she would sit next to me.

How many women did I do that with when I was young? How many of them did I confess love to, only to have love replaced with disenchanted glances and a canyon of ambiguous emotions as my manner dissuaded them from me? I recall a few, though perhaps it was a fair number more. I can hardly recall those individual situations, and even now I don't know why I recall those in particular. It's only somebody to talk to, somebody with whom I can look upon things, that I feel a longing for, not a lover. In my loneliness, why would I not wistfully ponder back to my mother, and to her image? After all, she knew me better than anyone aside from Lilian.

And now, as I write the words, it strikes me. It's because I can't remember her. That's alright with me, oddly enough... I've no feelings of corrupt morality on it. Maybe I've no morality to speak of, or it's been so starkly convoluted from what Lilian left it as.

The raindrops are starting to speckle through the climbing roses, now. Perhaps I should stop writing.

The Art of Living

Wherever they came from, these spawns of the Darkness are powerful. Their venom, it cuts through my will, and that's saying something. It's odd how I can cut myself, how I can be cut, punched, and even burnt, and yet it's a choice to me if I feel the pain or not. I can put a vast canyon between myself and it, or feel it as it is.

But no, not with the poison. It slices through whatever barriers I put up around my mind, and strikes me right to my core. I haven't felt pain so raw in a many years.

The situation has given me an awaking shock though. Since Lilian left, I've been so... detached. I've been losing myself to it, taking refuge in it. For what? As a defense against the very real pain of her departure? Regardless, it's carried on too long, and I'll be a slave to it no more. The safety, the comfort, has made me languid. It's hardly what I would call living.

I've been given a gift, and once again, I will come to recognize it.
I haven't been living - once again, I will live for Him.
I've blocked myself from the pain of losing... her. No more. I will come to terms with it.

A New Demon in the Mirror

"It's been so long since I've been confronted with the things that I did in those first months," I spoke out the words in a quivering voice, a voice shaking like the candle which provided the only light in this room. "It was so long ago, I had forgotten, and it never seemed very important at all. Even now, I can hardly remember the times... they were so intoxicating. But what I have seen tonight, Lilian... what I've seen tonight was an abomination - an abomination to Him, and to Us."

The woman who sat across from me was beautiful in every way. Obsidian hair, as dark as a raven's feather, and her blue eyes - so much like the sea as it is obscured by night. I could lose myself in those eyes, and had before. Then, she spoke, a voice of empathy, of understanding, and of wisdom; lilting and filled with all these things. "My love... my pupil... if you can see this so clearly, than I have taught you well. It is not the carnage He desires; leave that to Morhiag, no matter how her followers deny it."

"How do we know, Lilian? How do we know what it is He desires. I feel Him, yes, I cannot deny that I am part of Him and He part of me, and you. He is our Father, and I love Him... but what does He want us to do? Children without guidance are hardly good children at all. You've taught me of Him, through your own experience, yet I've none of my own to base it off of..." I looked at her. I think, if I recall, I was pleading. I wanted so much to know what to do, what He wanted me to do. If He would but give me His will, I would have it done. I would destroy the whole damn city if He wished it, even though destroying something so enticing would hurt me so.

She simply looked at me, and smiled a thin smile. So much like the smile I employ now. Somehow, it's just more comforting. "When He wishes something to be done, and it isn't blatantly obvious, He will show you. Remember, we are a part of him. All you must do is listen to Him, through your own mind, and you will know what to do without any intervention from the Father."

Then, I asked the most simple question I could muster in my confused, fumbling state. "Why do they torture them so? Were we not all once like that?"

"They do it because they are sad, because they are mad. Because they don't know how to handle themselves, because they were confronted with the same questions that face every one of us, every one of His children, and they were overwhelmed by it. That, dear, is what separates those who will live for centuries, and those who won't last the decade. Those who last undoubtedly go on to serve the Father more than those who don't."

"Lilian... I want to live. I want to live for Him, not for the blood."
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.
I want to live.

"And with my help... you shall."

Birth

And when my eyes closed, it was not death that I saw. It was not sleep, nor dreams, nor agony that I felt creep upon me. It was the silent comfort of shadow, and the feeling that I could be in them - forever.

"Do you feel it?" The voice echoed deeply, and eternally, within me. It came from everything, for everything was it. Everything was darkness.

"Yes... I feel life."

"And what else do you feel?"

"I feel You. I feel Your pain... M'Lord, you are sad."

"Why do you think that?"

"You are sad, M'Lord, because You thirst. Not for the blood - mostly, but for knowledge mostly. You thirst for the world. You thirst for it all, everything. M'Lord, I feel that you are the most raw emotion that I've ever contacted in all this time, and it... it..." I could not speak, for my voice was caught it my throat.

"Overwhelms?"

"Yes," I could only weep.

"My Son, for you will be My Son, do not cry. I will walk beside you always, and you shall always feel this emotion, my emotion, echoing across the distance. It will be a reverberation of your own emotion, and it will echo your own emotion as if across from a vast canyon, for it cannot be helped. Your's pales in comparison to Mine. My son, I will feed you, and you in turn shall feed me, for it has been deigned that way. The so called 'Divine' would have it no other way than that we both desire this blood. My son, I will hide you in shadows, and from there you will live the rest of your life like any human - but you will live it for Me, and I will live it for you. In Shadow We are One, and in Shadow We are All. Remember these phrases, for if nothing else, they will guide you on your new life."

And it faded, only it didn't. I knew I was asleep now, but the Shadow didn't leave me. Father stayed with me.

The End

From the perception of Cecil Nightengale, Armante Nightengale, Samuein Nightengale, and countless others.

Why does He do this to me...

Have I not satisfied you enough, Father?! Have I not respected You, given You the Drink, did I not DIE for you? No, no, that's not entirely true... I died for her, not You...

The pain is overwhelming. His shadow is on me no more. His protection is gone, and I cannot bare it. I can't bare it even if the pain wasn't upon me. I never wanted this! Go, my warped mind, unravel at the seems, for I would be disentangled from you forever more. I want these beliefs no longer, I want nothing. Please, just give me the void back. I don't want anything except a lack of everything. I don't want to exist!

And quite slowly, languidly, things fade.

"Please, don't hurt her! Gods, don't hurt her, don't hurt her damn you!"
Silence.
"Take me, let her live; leave her be - I need her!"
"Then you will lose her... but not in the form of her death."
All things since that have been torture, and now... they are gone. I am dead, or at least as dead as I can be. As such, I will remain, for as long as I can. It's only now that I look back and realize how arrogant I was. If only he had taught me... if only I had known what immortality stood to be.

There is none of that now. There is nothing but silence.

A Lapse of All Things

It was night when I saw her. For the first time in who knows how many years, I saw the woman that I had given everything up for. I wanted to run to her, hug her to me. I wanted to tell her what I had done for her, my regrets, my doubts.

I wanted to spill my black soul too her.

Yet, what I wanted, and what I felt were so very contradictory. I felt nothing, I moved naught, and I stayed in the shadows. It is the place best for me. Yet, my wants, my thoughts turned towards ripping off this mask which I now so expertly wear and running to her.

And for a moment, I forgot who I was........

---

"Mother, mother! I'm right here mother!" I said, my voice bursting with excitement as I ran down the street towards the woman who loved me more than sunshine. Fondness for the reunion had pushed aside all my bad thoughts about her, and I saw her for what she really was; a loving, caring, woman.

"Cecil?! My dear Cecil? Look at you! You're all grown, into a man!"

"But mother, I'm still the same child as before. You're little child." And so I was. I was a child, in a brown tunic made from clothsack, scurrying in her arms, while the other children of the slums played around me.

"Oh, my, my, my! Dear Cecil, I've missed you so much!" She hugged me tightly to her, and I hugged her right back.

"Mommy, I've missed you too. I have something to show you!"

"Oh? What's that, dear?"

"Father, mommy! Father's came back!" And I pointed down the road where there, resplendent in a black robe was a tall figure. With a sudden leap forward, the figure ripped reality asunder. My mother fell into blackness, but she didn't fall for long. Soon the blackness crept around her, and I watched as my mother was devoured in shadows. Then, so too was I. In my place was nothing.

----

My emotions, my feelings, my wants, my desires, my thoughts and will have burst forward at the sight of this woman. Emotions... wants... thoughts... I can't tell the difference anymore. It has been cohersively merged together into what has become my existence.

Yet, it's all devoured, and my body quiets. I turn away.

So powerful is the Void that I would turn away from the woman who I had once upon a time gave my life too.

So strong has been my transformation through pain and all sorts of vile torture that I would shun this woman.

My mother.

For my Father. A shadow. All shadow.

The Drone Ceases

From the perspective of Cecil Nightengale.

Buzzing and overwhelming. A fuzz at the edge of my hearing, always constantly at the edge, and bringing me with it. Annoying yet faint.

Always it has been such since the Rebirth.

It's a side-effect of the Gift. A side-effect, ever increasing as I crawl meagerly further and further from the rays of the defunct and broken Warriors of the Sky. It buzzes and sounds in my ear, the constant thrum of the city, the constant thrum of my own body (which is so faint now), and the constant thrum of those bodies around me. Never leaving me in peace, it's always there to remind me of that which I must do, that which confronts me, and that I am constantly, always hunted.

Yet... I hear nothing now. There's no sound, no touch, no scent. I am alone, and enjoying every moment I have of it. The pain lulls me into a state of meditation that until recently I thought impossible. Almost a state of sleeping, and I think; this must be what it's like when one grows indifferent to the world, and in their immortality, a still vassal for the Lord. It's a humbling experience.

Although I can feel naught but the Cradle of Pain (back and forth, soothing), there's still something that pokes at me. It's not unkind. Never was there more a gentle reminder than this of my station...

And that reminder is simply that I am thirsty.