Final Thoughts

[Lord Iezkon]

''Books.... Books are nice, aren't they Serexil? With just one sentence you can get lost in all sorts of dreams. The way I think of it, literature allows the reader's consciousness to deeply relish the author and be closer to them. And so... we freely walk around the world of the story from the yarn spinner's point of view. It is only when you immerse yourself in the world of a book that you are able to forget just who you are. And now.... I am left to wonder, would it have ended differently had I never touched his journal?''

''I'll join your mother now. We'll wait for you.''

''Why did I say that? Am I still trying to comfort her? Trying to nurture her? Why am I not fighting back now? It must be your mother's influence on me all those years ago.... Your mother.... yes, what was her name again? Kharyssa I believe. She shone as bright as the Horuset sun, her heart was burning with righteous indignation, and she lit the fire I ran on. Carry it on for me... will you?''

The blade of deep crimson swung through. Eyeless visage traversing through the air and on its way towards the harsh, cold ground.

''And now... the curtain closes. Our performance ends, The stage is veiled. Our audience applauds. We have brought them an opera of despair and a song of hope. Breathe in the atmosphere, Cerberus. Continue your work... you will be poetry. You will be beautiful.''

''It's done, go... Get out of my sight.''

''I led me by the hand, as if to fill the niches in the memories in my oozing brain fluid. Without even a destination, we kept walking. Disgusting clouds were floating in the sky, a familiar sight. I know I already know I won't wake up this time.''

A soft thud came through as an unknown figure dropped to their knees. They were so close.

''My severe injuries had healed and the sweet taste of blood coated my mouth. I kept walking, my goal vague...trying to dispel the building unease in my chest... Upon entering an open area was the scent of rotting flowers and in the middle of the flowerbed, he stood... Without anyone saying a thing, without his name given, like an unsolved puzzle falling into place by itself, just by seeing that figure, I--understood exactly who I faced. Tsudama. The undefeated third. A cold, vivid gaze. There, stood the Warden of Death. Why was it that I was seeing beauty in death rather than life? Strangely, I thought he was beautiful... Disoriented, I had failed to comprehend the scene before my eyes. It was not anything like flowers but a large amount of "Death". Had he done this alone? No matter how I tried to rouse my will to fight with hatred, more than sorrow, more than rage, the emotion that arose within me was despair. Because I knew my ‘turn’ was next...''



(*Post by Luca/Khatatas.*)