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Dusk. The gentle rays of the setting sun bathed the world in a calm sheet. Even though the still lingering warmth would eventually fade, the sun did not seem to be in a hurry in the slightest. It laid its loving embrace upon the world below, giving everything and asking for nothing in return. The long reach of the horizon lay at peace, drawing breath slowly, lingering and relaxed, perhaps subliminally knowing it would later require the warmth and strength it was now freely given. On top of the moment's utopia stood a single mountain. Proud and confident, it did not feel guilt or remorse for claiming the majority the sun's gifts.
Rather, it felt them well deserved.
At the mountain's shoulder two tiny figures took their place in the vast scenery, barely noticeable at the ridge, yet equally and as unquestionably loved by the peaceful shining father of all things.
“A beautiful evening, is it not?”
The swarthy young woman startled, having lost herself in the breathtaking scenery. Scolding herself for letting down her guard, she glanced over towards the voice. A man walked up to the edge of the cliff where she stood, taking a position at a comfortable distance, facing the play of light and earth before them.
“My intention was not to startle you. Yet, I could not bring myself to miss this display of beauty we have been blessed with tonight.”
His voice was steady and soft, his gaze resting on the gently blazing horizon. The last rays of the sun landed on his armour, but their dance died out in an instant. The man was clad in a suit of pitch black plate armour that seemed to devour the sun’s gifts like a hungry beast.
"A gal ain't going to expect nobody else to be up here, s'all, mister,” she finally replied, shrugging off the tension, but keeping the stranger under a close eye. She examined his strong posture suspiciously. He seemed at ease and relaxed, yet there was something unnerving about him. It was his visage, more precisely his expression, she concluded. His chin was slightly lifted against the sun, and a gentle smiled played on his lips. The look of his face and the gleam of green eyes conveyed a sense of profound peace and harmony in stark contrast with his scarred, wrinkled face. The serenity of his countenance clashed with his ominous armour like forces of Evil and Good, and left the young woman groping in darkness when trying to make her mind about him.
“I was drawn by the love the world is showing its children tonight,” the man said. He then turned his head to face the young woman and smiled gently at her. Meeting his gaze and smile, she was torn between whether to smile back or unsheathe her concealed knife from the depths of her boot. She hid her indecision, and began only then to consider what the stranger had uttered. It made no sense.
“Tha' makes no sense,” she spoke her mind.
The man's soft smile didn't waver, he merely swept the landscape in front of them with his eyes.
“The grace we admire tonight is just one of many gifts the last gasp of the world provides for us,” he clarified after a moment of silence. Turning yet again to smile at the young woman, he continued; ”May I ask in turn, what brought you here tonight?”
She shrugged, detaching her eyes from the stranger to glance at the sunset, though his strange words gnawed at her mind and forced her gaze back unto him.
“Don't know, mister,” she said plainly, honestly. “Killin' time, I s'pose,” she added after a moment, more to herself than the black-clad stranger. On the brink of once again asking what he had meant, she found herself interrupted.
“Wandering without a purpose, my child?” the man worded softly, his gentle smile never escaping his lips.
The young woman blinked rapidly, caught off-guard yet again by the accusation. She thought for a moment in silence, peering suspiciously at the smiling knight in lusterless armour. Eventually she answered the question hanging in the air with another.
“Wha' else is there?”
The gleam in the stranger's eyes sparkled to rival that of the sun, whose light had already dimmed as it sunk inevitably beyond the horizon – chased away by the arrival of the pitch black darkness of Shar's cloak.
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"Beauty dies of beauty,”
The shadows were always moving in these woods, tormented spirits of the once slaughtered had long been deprived of their rest. The land itself squirmed in agony, the blackened trees weaved silently in the still air; as if reaching out to grasp the living flesh that had dared to enter their domain—envious of its warmth.
“Love of love,”
Amidst the near tangible stench of decay—which itself seemed to be as malicious as the land—stood a formation of figures, rigid and veiled in black.
“In the fever of our waiting,”
The firm row of solemn expressions was in stark contrast with the writhing trees and restless dead, bringing order and discipline into the forest overrun by chaos. In the ranks stood humans and half-breeds alike, in harmony and unity; each covered in black armour and veiled by an atmosphere of reverence and melancholy.
“We were deceived-“
Before the congregation stood a pedestal of marble, a beacon of serenity in the heart of the blackened forest. It formed a stark contrast with the dark clad figures gathered around it. And so did also a young girl lying on the stone; for those around were still drawing breath—and she was not.
“Without deceivers,”
Her snow-white gown was spotless and without a wrinkle, and on her chest lay a black rose and a cleaned wound. As easily as the sharp object had penetrated her heart, the words woven in the air penetrated the hearts of those gathered.
“Without betrayers,”
The presence more unwavering than that of frigid girl stood beside the stone pedestal. The black-clad man preached alongside the congregated with a gentle and steady voice, his posture straight. His face was filled with compassion and understanding, his eyes sparkled with wisdom and the humility of an old man who had seen enough to understand the insignificance of them all. He was their shepherd.
“A mirror waits for your face... and I have been awaiting you...”
The combined light of the stars illuminated the waist of the preacher, and sparkled on the blade of the dagger the shepherd had used to kill his lamb.
“Don't be sad. She is in a snowflake, she is in the rays of sun, she is in the sparkling of stars...”
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