Fallen from Heaven

I shall not refuse my father and my king.

The castle of Baron looks still from the plains. Evil is stirring in the grass. The sky calls to me; the moon is hidden from sight, but I know it is there. I dream of flying during my waking hours, and during the nighttime I see only the blood on my sword and my life falling to pieces.

Rosa, how far I've come. You must be disappointed at the boy you saw as a youth, desiring to change the world. Or so he told you.

I go to my demise; after treason, there is no greater hope.

Kain whispers to me during our battles. We have passed through forest and plain and seen the nests of monsters. For as long as I've been in the sky, the world has been growing with the sharpness and clarity of death. Dogs and cattle are slain by the wayside, farms are lit on fire, villages left in ruin and populated by monstrous creatures with a single eye and the wings of a bat. They hover over the trees, and their gaze turns all creatures against each other. Even the noble Greymark, the Eagle of Baron, has become a wandering scavenger and hideous carnivore, devouring anything in its path. Only Kain’s worthy spear has kept us from harm’s way as we make our way towards the Feymarch.

My armor is stained with the blood of animals and sweat. I tell myself that I answer to only myself, but I find that after so many of years of wearing the dark armor and wielding the sword, my life has disintegrated into nothing. I am a tool of the king, nothing more, and I have done even worse than that: I have angered him and told him he was a fool in front of his whole court. I deserve the punishment and worse: why did he spare me? At least lock me in the dungeons. I’m sure Kain is no doubt wondering that as well, for all the good the king has done for us over the course of our lives.

And yet I wonder, never once has the King acted so unaware of his position. To steal the Water Crystal of the Mysidians is tantamount to genocide, rendering them unprotected from the miseries of both the wrathful seas that boil around their country but also their national pride. But these are treasonous thoughts, and I need not bother with them.

Kain is approaching me.

“Cecil, night approaches. We must move.” His helmet is in his hands, and his hair is matted with the strain of the last five hours we have been making our way through the countryside.

“Have a rest, Kain,” I offer, taking a piece of bread from a traveling sack. “You are troubled by my actions, and we have not spoken of it since I was dismissed yesterday.”

“There is no need to speak of it,” Kain says. He has a powerful voice, one that he rarely uses unless called upon. “You spoke out of turn and were disciplined. You are only a man and you lost sight of what is important.”

I nod to him, and do not answer. He is correct. I have lost sight of what is good. The sword, with its dark metal, calls to me, sings to me. I hate it. But it gives me power, and the power over my destiny. The power over men. At least it did. No longer.

“Have you ever questioned what we do, Kain?” I ask him, knowing he will not answer. He does not.

“We must go; it is growing dark, and the forests are stirring with the impatience for our blood.”

I nod in silence. It is true. We have abandoned the world far too long, and in our absence, it has gone mad.