My Reflection In the Snow
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Chapter 1: Prologue
Prologue:
What defines a man: Is it his stature in society, his culture, his color; Or perhaps his family, friends, and enemies? Is a man of his father? Is a man of his ancestrial lineage? Who is a man -What is a man- without any of these things. Are you left with a deceitless truth, or are you left with nothing at all?
These questions always swim about me as I amble perpetually through the dark, desolate streets and the even more so halls of the castle that sits within its reach. The moon, she seems to be the only one who smiles down upon me with such a gentle light. For, even the adulated sun pierces my skin with its merciless, self-righteous rays, and the light of fire only seems to bring darkness. I've grown tired of darkness; Such is the backdrop of my dreary existance.
My existance...
Which brings me back to my question... Who am I? Well, my name is 4. But who am I... In all truth... The whole of my being... I do not know...
Am I my father's son?
Or am I the Prince of Purgence?
I know but two types of people: The creatures that my father has created (Those that shun the light and lay ruin to the land that was stolen away so long ago) and the light dwelling creatures that curse and relentlessly oppose us. My father's creations know me as their creator's son... They are kind and civil beings who act as my friends, family, and care-givers. I can not see why the light-dwellers give them such disgust; All I've ever known from them was good will and cheer. Yet, that is the nature of the light-dwelling fiends: They ridicule those they do not understand, lay claim to a righteousness no god has ever given them, and demand respect that's never been earned. They are the truely foul ones, and we see it as our job to rid our fair land of their stench... They know me as the Prince of Purgence... Yet...
Yet... As of late, I've begun to question if all this slaughter...
All this slaughter...
Is it really...
Just?
My mind has been restless these past moons. It seems as if I haven't slept in eons, and my prowess has suffered, but they tell me that I've just outgrown this silly need for sleep. It's common knowledge that the night never sleeps, nor do the inhabitants -I had been the only one who had need of it.
It's no secret that I was a bit different from my "family". I needed to eat at least three times a day, I couldn't eat raw meat (And for that matter, I couldn't swallow it whole), and my I.Q soared above their's. At least, on a positive aspect, my athletic ability excelled above them, and I have thumbs. However, I often needed to stop for breaks during the routune rampaging, I can't go outside in the sunlight, I'm susseptable to sickness, and I am in the likeness of a human.
My father is in the shape of a human, but there was nothing about his actually features that... Well, he's... He's just plain scary. I may look a bit like my father, but I pale in comparison. No eyes could look so menacing -As if staring through you and into your soul-, no stance itself could hold so much power -As if all power in the world is concentrated under his feet-, and no laugh could be so maniacle -As if all of Hell were cackling. No, there was no man quite like my father... And even my few glances of him has proven that to me.
What defines a man: Is it his stature in society, his culture, his color; Or perhaps his family, friends, and enemies? Is a man of his father? Is a man of his ancestrial lineage? Who is a man -What is a man- without any of these things. Are you left with a deceitless truth, or are you left with nothing at all?
These questions always swim about me as I amble perpetually through the dark, desolate streets and the even more so halls of the castle that sits within its reach. The moon, she seems to be the only one who smiles down upon me with such a gentle light. For, even the adulated sun pierces my skin with its merciless, self-righteous rays, and the light of fire only seems to bring darkness. I've grown tired of darkness; Such is the backdrop of my dreary existance.
My existance...
Which brings me back to my question... Who am I? Well, my name is 4. But who am I... In all truth... The whole of my being... I do not know...
Am I my father's son?
Or am I the Prince of Purgence?
I know but two types of people: The creatures that my father has created (Those that shun the light and lay ruin to the land that was stolen away so long ago) and the light dwelling creatures that curse and relentlessly oppose us. My father's creations know me as their creator's son... They are kind and civil beings who act as my friends, family, and care-givers. I can not see why the light-dwellers give them such disgust; All I've ever known from them was good will and cheer. Yet, that is the nature of the light-dwelling fiends: They ridicule those they do not understand, lay claim to a righteousness no god has ever given them, and demand respect that's never been earned. They are the truely foul ones, and we see it as our job to rid our fair land of their stench... They know me as the Prince of Purgence... Yet...
Yet... As of late, I've begun to question if all this slaughter...
All this slaughter...
Is it really...
Just?
My mind has been restless these past moons. It seems as if I haven't slept in eons, and my prowess has suffered, but they tell me that I've just outgrown this silly need for sleep. It's common knowledge that the night never sleeps, nor do the inhabitants -I had been the only one who had need of it.
It's no secret that I was a bit different from my "family". I needed to eat at least three times a day, I couldn't eat raw meat (And for that matter, I couldn't swallow it whole), and my I.Q soared above their's. At least, on a positive aspect, my athletic ability excelled above them, and I have thumbs. However, I often needed to stop for breaks during the routune rampaging, I can't go outside in the sunlight, I'm susseptable to sickness, and I am in the likeness of a human.
My father is in the shape of a human, but there was nothing about his actually features that... Well, he's... He's just plain scary. I may look a bit like my father, but I pale in comparison. No eyes could look so menacing -As if staring through you and into your soul-, no stance itself could hold so much power -As if all power in the world is concentrated under his feet-, and no laugh could be so maniacle -As if all of Hell were cackling. No, there was no man quite like my father... And even my few glances of him has proven that to me.
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- Chapter 1: Prologue
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