Prayers in Conflict
A talon misses flesh by the width of a feather. A storm catches wings of gray, and summon forth the wings of a nightmare...
Rain fell heavy wherever Langdon Walked. The chill wind announced his arrival, the thunderclouds chiming with each step, the lightning revealing his darkened form. From the pounding heart of the city, to the furthest reaches of the stars, Langdon Walked, and Walked, and Walked.
But he couldn't find his prey.
Follow the red mark.
I pray for that soul, for he is a good man.
Sinner!
We are all sinners. Langdon "Stop..." Kill him! The red mark never lies.
Can one not be a sinner and a savior?
Sinner!
We are all sinners. Langdon "Where is he?" He's alive. Find him!
He is beyond us. Choose another. A true sinner.
Sinner!
We are all sinners. A figure walked onto the path in front of Langdon. An old man, arms shaking with the weight of his grocery bags. He was drenched, what little hair he had left flattened to his head by the rain. Kill!
No!
Sinner! Langdon "We are all sinners..." No! Langdon's sword Cut through air and water, a thunderclap covering the rasp of steel on bone, lightning revealing his handiwork. Vegetables went tumbling across the cold ground, and blood soon followed. The old man looked confused... But then at peace. ???: "Thank you." An amulet tumbled from within the man's robes. The symbol of the House of Sinners. Langdon stepped back, lowering the man to the ground, his sword clattering on the stones. Langdon "No? N- No!" The rainy street faded away. The Doors of Death opened to Langdon. The soul went up and through him, and into the beyond. But as it passed... No sin was given. No nourishment for him to feed on. A pure soul. He'd severed a pure soul. Langdon "Oh gods." It was all clarity then. Deep, and harsh, and agonizing clarity. The red marks faded away, and the hazy voice that came with them. Prayers bounced off his skull like fists, revealing the truth of it. That truth burned him all the way through, hollowing out his insides, tearing his essence asunder. The brand on his chest ached, the badge that marked him Death. He stretched his wings, as if to fly away from the pain, and was surrounded with feathers, as the glorious appendages disentegrated from his back. Langdon "I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry." There was only one way to attone for this now. Langdon reached for his blade, mechanical joints creaking as they began to rust. They found only ash there. His Scythe was gone. Langdon screamed, beating his head on the path forward, but found no deliverance. Only the worried prayers of his followers, and the shrinking of his immortal purpose... The vision fades, but the scream continues, howling and howling, until daybreak pulls the nightmare away.
I pray for that soul, for he is a good man.
Sinner!
We are all sinners. Langdon "Stop..." Kill him! The red mark never lies.
Can one not be a sinner and a savior?
Sinner!
We are all sinners. Langdon "Where is he?" He's alive. Find him!
He is beyond us. Choose another. A true sinner.
Sinner!
We are all sinners. A figure walked onto the path in front of Langdon. An old man, arms shaking with the weight of his grocery bags. He was drenched, what little hair he had left flattened to his head by the rain. Kill!
No!
Sinner! Langdon "We are all sinners..." No! Langdon's sword Cut through air and water, a thunderclap covering the rasp of steel on bone, lightning revealing his handiwork. Vegetables went tumbling across the cold ground, and blood soon followed. The old man looked confused... But then at peace. ???: "Thank you." An amulet tumbled from within the man's robes. The symbol of the House of Sinners. Langdon stepped back, lowering the man to the ground, his sword clattering on the stones. Langdon "No? N- No!" The rainy street faded away. The Doors of Death opened to Langdon. The soul went up and through him, and into the beyond. But as it passed... No sin was given. No nourishment for him to feed on. A pure soul. He'd severed a pure soul. Langdon "Oh gods." It was all clarity then. Deep, and harsh, and agonizing clarity. The red marks faded away, and the hazy voice that came with them. Prayers bounced off his skull like fists, revealing the truth of it. That truth burned him all the way through, hollowing out his insides, tearing his essence asunder. The brand on his chest ached, the badge that marked him Death. He stretched his wings, as if to fly away from the pain, and was surrounded with feathers, as the glorious appendages disentegrated from his back. Langdon "I'm sorry. Oh, I'm sorry." There was only one way to attone for this now. Langdon reached for his blade, mechanical joints creaking as they began to rust. They found only ash there. His Scythe was gone. Langdon screamed, beating his head on the path forward, but found no deliverance. Only the worried prayers of his followers, and the shrinking of his immortal purpose... The vision fades, but the scream continues, howling and howling, until daybreak pulls the nightmare away.
Comments