A Promised Land of Cedar Pines: by Bruce O'Brien and Dave Alistair ( Medieval Science-Fantasy: Sword and Sorcery / Satire: Crime )
Prologue:
Their soul and mine, they're one in the same. We were split in twain, but the pain was felt by both of us. The sins of our father ran red in our veins, a constant reminder of the dark legacy that we had inherited. Through all of the darkness and hunger that we had faced, she had remained by my side. But now, her heart no longer beat in tandem with mine. And so I waited, waited for that biting wit and tenderness that would never come.
Instead, all I was left with was the hole in my chest, a gnawing emptiness that threatened to consume me entirely. But even in my darkest hours, I was determined to be there for her. I would be her boatman, her reaper, always hers even though she couldn't keep her. I would lay down on a bed of raven's feathers, the darkness surrounding me like a comforting blanket.
Because that was what we were destined for. Darkness and pain, forever bound together through fate and blood. And even though her heart was no longer mine, I would do whatever it took to keep her safe. For in the end, it was all that mattered. The sins of our father would never hold us down, not as long as we had each other.
Part I:
I watched as the world burned around me, consumed by the flames of our own destruction. It was like watching a terrible illusion, one that I could never wake up from. And so I kept myself at bay, fighting for resolution even as everyone around me ran away. But then you fell, and everything changed. My heart went cold, and I knew that I had to do something. Even if it meant forsaking everything I had ever known.
And so I ran out on my own, determined to deliver justice to those who had been lost in the never-ending chaos of it all. But even as I tried, I knew that I could never take back what had been done to you. My eyes had a fever, burning red with the passion of a thousand suns. And with each step I took, another life fell before me. It was never what I wanted, but your life was mine to bless.
In the end, I was left with nothing but an empty chest and a handful of tears. I cried out, hoping that someone - anyone - would hear my pleas and come to my aid. But the only thing that answered me was the violent roar of the fire, consuming everything in its path. And so I keep fighting on, haunted by the memories of what was lost. I lay them all to rest, hoping that someday I'll find the peace that I so desperately crave.
But until then, I'll keep running. For you. For me. For all those who never had the chance to make it out alive.
Part II:
I watched from a distance as the world burned down before me. It was a beautiful sight, the chaos and destruction filling my bones with a sense of euphoria that I had never felt before. All those people, drowning under the weight of their own pain and suffering, and not a single one of them had the courage to speak up. I was different though. I could feel it in my spine, the power that came with all this destruction. And the best part? None of them ever suspected a thing. They all thought they were safe, that their heroes, the god's Champions, would protect them from the evils of this world.
But what use were heroes to me? They were nothing but liars, selling out for the sake of their popularity and worship. The real power lay with those who knew how to manipulate the masses, twisting everything until it fit their own twisted version of reality. And so I asked the question that no one dared to utter out loud: Where is your god? The one you held so high above everything else. Dead in the fire, owing you that life. When pain is an art, why must you cry?
To me, all of it was simple. The collective conscious was all that mattered, and I had collected enough weapons to make them all bow down before me. Bloodshed and violence was the food that fed my soul, and it was only a matter of time till I had almost everyone under my control. They could try to resist, of course, but they would never win. The truth was that the feeble-minded were easy to manipulate, and they would all fall before me. It was inevitable, and I couldn't wait to see it all come to pass.
So I ask again, where is your god? To whom do you defy? When pain is an art, why must you cry? I had no use for such things anymore. The only thing that mattered was my own rise to power, and nothing would stand in my way.
Part III:
The battle was long and grueling, each side fighting with all their might to come out on top. But in the end, it was their defeat that rang out across the battlefield. The sound of metal clashing against metal filled the air as they fought, their swords ringing out with each blow. It was a dance, one that they knew well. But even as they moved, they could feel their strength beginning to wane.
Their opponent was honorable, fighting with a grace and dignity that made them all but unstoppable. And even though they were beaten down time and time again, they refused to give up. But it was inevitable. As the final blow landed, sending them crashing to the ground, they knew that it was all over. They smiled, the pain forgotten in the face of their victory.
For even as they fell, they knew that they had achieved something greater. They had fought with honor, and in doing so had made their opponent respect them. Their defeat was a victory in and of itself, a martyrdom that would live on long after they were gone. And so they smiled, the last traces of life slipping away as they breathed their final breaths. They had achieved something greater than themselves, something that would be remembered for centuries to come.
Their opponent knelt down beside them, placing a hand on their shoulder in a show of respect. In that moment, they knew that they had earned something far greater than mere victory. They had earned the respect of those around them, and that was a victory worth fighting for.
A/N: Where the Antagonist is the MC, and where the audience is to leave the theater knowing he's the Bad Guy, a monstrous fiend with no equal...and then reflect on, whether or not if they would be much different if they walked in their shoes. It's also meant to be a peek at the darker paths that most philosophies, whether Western or Eastern, that are afforded to them. [EDIT: I probably forgot to make it clearer (or add it in even), but we're supposed to flip perspectives after the Prologue, with the Protagonist being the one to have mastered their darker impulses and the Antagonist being the one to have harmed them so. | EDIT2: That switch is supposed to be foreshadowed throughout, with it not being readily apparent until after the final battle.]
