seem merciful compared to the alternate finale.
Priest had hoped that in reminding the Dark Man of his past, the good part of Martin Roberts would resurface. Unfortunately, he’d greatly misjudged the situation. Martin Roberts had indeed died, though his body still walked and breathed. He had been the first victim of the assassin named Vain and possibly the most tragic. If Priest had succeeded in resurrecting Martin as he’d hoped there might have been a chance in the coming battle. Now there seemed none.
Priest collapsed into a chair beside the bed. He placed his head into his hands and wept.
“Why do you cry, black man?” whispered Vain malevolently. “Do you envision your death at the hands of the Dark Man?”
“No, Dark Man. I cry for the boy who will die because I have failed.”
A hint of emotion flickered across the Dark Man’s face, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“What boy?” asked Vain strangely.
“What do you care assassin? After I am dead I’m sure there will be hundreds more innocent victims for you. Consider them instead.”
“Who is the boy?” Vain repeated.
Priest conceded defeat and appeared to crumple in on himself even further.
“The boy is the one I have devoted my existence to. He is the next golden light to arise from the darkness. I have searched for him my entire life and now that I’ve found him I am too weak to save him. He is the Avun-Riah : the child of rebirth–the one who would make things true. With the turning season he will die by the hand of evil and you–or rather Martin Roberts reborn with your skills–were to be my last chance to save him.”
Vain contemplated the words. Most of what the man had said made no sense to him, but he understood enough to know that a child would die. Little Angelique still seemed to be calling him, had been calling throughout the long empty years of death; her cries were all the more clear now.
“Who plans to kill the boy?” asked Vain.
Priest peered at him with teary and bloodshot eyes. A look of utter amazement lit his face like an explosion of fireworks and he smiled.
“You’re going to save him,” he said in disbelief. Not a question so much as a statement.
“Do not make the mistake of reading my thoughts too deeply black man. I still plan to kill you before I’m finished, and the images of that will burn your fragile little mind to cinders. Now answer my question.”
Priest quickly sobered and closed his mind to the Dark Man’s thoughts. Though his death seemed imminent, the knowledge did not frighten him. Without knowing the exact time or method, it felt more like a dull aching he had come to relate with pain and mortality, rather than a definitive incident or time.
The talents Priest possessed were far from precise. He could not predict the winning lotto numbers, nor could he determine the exact actions required to ensure the future might unfold the way he hoped. He likened his talent to steering a boat through thick fog during a hurricane, lacking compass or radar to guide his way. All he had was a single light in the distance winking in and out of view. His current predicament made these limits all too obvious, with the only light he could see, held by a merciless assassin. He took a deep breath before beginning.
“The people after the boy call themselves the Souls of Sordarrah . An ancient cult from the Babylonian era, they believe that if they sacrifice the Avun-Riah on a certain night of the year in the middle of a lunar eclipse, darkness will cover the Earth and death will stalk the planet in the guise of the demigod known as Sordarrah .
“Sordarrah was a fallen angel thrown down with Lucifer after the Great War in Heaven. Essentially he was Lucifer’s lieutenant, and from all reports an extremely nasty character. After the original war, it’s believed a second war occurred, this time between the forces of Sordarrah, and the armies of Lucifer for control of Hell. The second war
Priest had hoped that in reminding the Dark Man of his past, the good part of Martin Roberts would resurface. Unfortunately, he’d greatly misjudged the situation. Martin Roberts had indeed died, though his body still walked and breathed. He had been the first victim of the assassin named Vain and possibly the most tragic. If Priest had succeeded in resurrecting Martin as he’d hoped there might have been a chance in the coming battle. Now there seemed none.
Priest collapsed into a chair beside the bed. He placed his head into his hands and wept.
“Why do you cry, black man?” whispered Vain malevolently. “Do you envision your death at the hands of the Dark Man?”
“No, Dark Man. I cry for the boy who will die because I have failed.”
A hint of emotion flickered across the Dark Man’s face, but it vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared.
“What boy?” asked Vain strangely.
“What do you care assassin? After I am dead I’m sure there will be hundreds more innocent victims for you. Consider them instead.”
“Who is the boy?” Vain repeated.
Priest conceded defeat and appeared to crumple in on himself even further.
“The boy is the one I have devoted my existence to. He is the next golden light to arise from the darkness. I have searched for him my entire life and now that I’ve found him I am too weak to save him. He is the Avun-Riah : the child of rebirth–the one who would make things true. With the turning season he will die by the hand of evil and you–or rather Martin Roberts reborn with your skills–were to be my last chance to save him.”
Vain contemplated the words. Most of what the man had said made no sense to him, but he understood enough to know that a child would die. Little Angelique still seemed to be calling him, had been calling throughout the long empty years of death; her cries were all the more clear now.
“Who plans to kill the boy?” asked Vain.
Priest peered at him with teary and bloodshot eyes. A look of utter amazement lit his face like an explosion of fireworks and he smiled.
“You’re going to save him,” he said in disbelief. Not a question so much as a statement.
“Do not make the mistake of reading my thoughts too deeply black man. I still plan to kill you before I’m finished, and the images of that will burn your fragile little mind to cinders. Now answer my question.”
Priest quickly sobered and closed his mind to the Dark Man’s thoughts. Though his death seemed imminent, the knowledge did not frighten him. Without knowing the exact time or method, it felt more like a dull aching he had come to relate with pain and mortality, rather than a definitive incident or time.
The talents Priest possessed were far from precise. He could not predict the winning lotto numbers, nor could he determine the exact actions required to ensure the future might unfold the way he hoped. He likened his talent to steering a boat through thick fog during a hurricane, lacking compass or radar to guide his way. All he had was a single light in the distance winking in and out of view. His current predicament made these limits all too obvious, with the only light he could see, held by a merciless assassin. He took a deep breath before beginning.
“The people after the boy call themselves the Souls of Sordarrah . An ancient cult from the Babylonian era, they believe that if they sacrifice the Avun-Riah on a certain night of the year in the middle of a lunar eclipse, darkness will cover the Earth and death will stalk the planet in the guise of the demigod known as Sordarrah .
“Sordarrah was a fallen angel thrown down with Lucifer after the Great War in Heaven. Essentially he was Lucifer’s lieutenant, and from all reports an extremely nasty character. After the original war, it’s believed a second war occurred, this time between the forces of Sordarrah, and the armies of Lucifer for control of Hell. The second war
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