Thursday 7 March 2019


It's a simple trick, held in light but dealt in darkness.  Now you see me, now you don't.  You never did, Fallen.  Despite your coliseums and claims to godlike power.  Corrupted chronologies and fractured fractals mean little to me.  I am a night-watchman.  I've walked among the dead all my lives.  Sometimes – if I'm willing and they are kind – I bring them back.  Oh, wraiths, your mockery knows no bounds.  But I'm a thing of eternal spirit.  As is my kin.  You know it.  The whole world knows it.  Yet I elude you still.  Standing in the spotlight, every piece of my myth studied and elaborated, and still you are blind to me.  The human heart isn’t just a pump, an engine, or a cauldron.  
   The heart is a proposition.  
   A dare, a wink at the brave. Are you a kind one, wraith?  I seriously doubt it.  But would you like to be?  You fear that open door, don't you?  The depth of our love.  Hear me, Fallen.  The wounded have their guardians.  Mark it well.  Your ability to kill and sicken things doesn't negate Empyrean, or its holy fathoms.  And my ability to hunt and frighten you doesn't negate the proposition of play.  Affection can dream in synchrony.  Last Light, First Dark.  A simple trick, cowards.  But one of unimaginable power.  Now you see me.  Now you don't.

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