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[Dealthagar]

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Dealthagar awoke from the dream with a start, the same way he had every night since he pushed his gift beyond anything he had done before. His eyes only wept black blood when the visions came to him now, and his pillows and sheets were soaked with the poisonous bile that ran in his veins.

As he looked around the room, still trying to center himself from the chaotic nightmares, the images swam in his mind's eye. Umbra engulfed in black flames, the woman in white dancing in and out of the heatless flames, only seen from the corners of his vision, rivers of blood and gore, and thrones fashoned from the skulls of children sat in a half circle around an open grave.

The images were troubling and seemingly meaningless, but in his madness, the Herald knew better.

Each day the images grew more disconcerting. Portents like the blackend skull wreathed in a crown of flames were clear and easy to read, but the symbolism of a gear folded in half thirteen times was beyond understanding.

The image of the tears of blood falling from a statue of ice, hardening and shattering as they fell to the ground were also clear, but as the maw devoured the tears, the ice and all around it, the violence and destruction began to take a life of thier own in these dreams. When it became clear that the maw was his own, there was but a single action to take.

His heart had lost the ability to feel as it had. He had repeated it in the garden the night before, but the words did not strike home with Ceinwyn. "I am as I am, but I am not what I was."

The suffering was complete, as again, as it had before, the price Oblivion asked of him was simply everything. The dragon once again ate its own tail and the cycle began anew.

Taking a box stained her favorite blue color, he placed in it the sentimental gifts she had given him in thier time together. Pulling the wedding ring from his finger, he placed it on top of the other things. Love, peace, solace. These things were a living lie to the Voice of Entropy. There was no future, so there was no future in them.

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"Your home is quite...empty."

He watched her closely as Ceinwyn turned. The smile on her lips, the sparkle in her eyes, alluring, beautiful. And as he gazed at her, he could see the crytal tears falling from her eyes, and hear her screams as the maw tore her flesh, consumed her whole. "I dislike moving. If I don't have a need for them, I'll just leave things in the boxes. Besides, what do I need from here in our home?"

He sighed and pulled the blue box from his pouch. He handed it to her. "There is much room in here. Much you can do."

Her smile brightened. "What is this, my love?"

"Our life."

The look of joy fell from her face and was replaced by a mix of anger, sorrow and fear. She took the box and clutched it to her chest as if fearful to open it. He assumed she could see the distance in his face that he felt in his chest. "What do you mean?"

"I will not inflict my madness on you any further, nor myself. These are your things."

Her voice grew bitter with accusation. "What of your promise? what of your bond? You cannot simply walk away!"

He reached out a hand and closed his eyes, reaching with his mind, feeling for his blood, the blood that held her to him. "In time the wounds will heal."

She jerked as he tugged at his blood within her. "What are you doing?"

"Freeing you." A long labourous sigh left his lips and a black vapor escaped from the pores of her exposed skin, collecting into a ball in the palm of his hand. "In time your heart will harden and your feelings for me will fade." He squeezed his hand and the black blood absorbed into his flesh, dissapearing without a trace, as she fell to her knees.

Ceinwyn's voice was a cruel snarl, blood red tears streaming down her face. "You swore an oath to me! I've suffered so much, suffered for us...for YOU! You...you're no different. No different than any of them!"

He watched as her tears fell, as if in slow motion. As they splashed on the floor he flinched, hearing the shattering and the screams. "No. I suppose I am not."

"Get out!"

He took a deep breath, savoring her scent a final time. "In time, you will thank me for freeing you from this slavery."

She stared into the open box shaking in rage and remorse. He stood in the doorway, watching her for what felt like an eternity. The flickers of madness hadn't faded, and he could still hear the shrieks of pain in his ears of the maw tearing at her flesh. All he had suffered, and nothing had changed. She looked up from the box, he voice icy. "Why are you still here? GET OUT!"

As he turned and walked away, he could still hear her sobs on the night air, but the screams, the beast were gone. His destiny was his to shape, once again. Or so he hoped.
_________________

The Three Truths of Singularity
Do something to the best of your abilty or don't do it at all
Feel to the fullest of your ability, cutting yourself off from your emotions leads to spiritual death
Control your being, your existance, your destiny.
www.adriandrake.com

[Ceinwyn ab'Arawn]

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Her cold, angry gaze remained locked on the door he had departed through, not quite hastily enough. In her mind, his words echoed.

"In time, you will thank me for freeing you from this slavery."

Not bloody likely, or else not without also thanking him with her sword for reinforcing the growing belief inside her that such relationships were a waste of time.

He had brought her back to Umbra, back to the Order. She had followed him, trustingly and faithfully. She had risked and sacrificed much, suffered much. All for him. For them, and he had thrown all of it away. So easily and readily, despite his former vows that everything he was doing he did for them. So much for his empty promises. Sadly enough, the Magus had been more than accurate about his fleeting whims. His true title ought to have been "Herald of Deceit".

You would think that after a couple centuries of it that she ought to be used to it by now. But, in the back of her mind there lingered that very mortal substance called Hope, and perhaps that was the fuel for her unusual streak of optimism. What other explanation could there be for her tendency to give people a chance? Especially when they always proved to be a bitter disappointment.

Ultimately, she was left hollow. So very empty and alone. Always alone.

Friends and family were fleeting, as this life had seen fit to prove time and time again. Inevitably, they left you. They all became disloyal failures. In the end, they crumbled into nothing more than worthless memories and dust. Even they were not spared the entropy of time itself. They only became detrimental attachments that slowed one, that gave that tiny amount of pause that allowed your enemy to strike you down. Perhaps it was time she just accepted that such relationships were pointless beyond the immediate moment.

The only thing eternal was the fact that nothing was eternal.