Crusade

Before

There was a curious ringing in his head as he remembered Her. Its source was a mystery as he lost himself in the thought of her fluttering eyelashes, when wakefulness had stolen away the quiet of their long sleep. He remembered the way his heart pounded as he first saw her bright eyes. He'd spent millennia beside her, and he'd yet to find the words to describe their color. The closest he'd ever come was a comparison to natural pools they had discovered together once, so very long ago.

It had been a place where crystal-clear waters of the sea poured inland, to be met by the mists of the falls that ran down rocks from myriad streams that all gathered upon the plateau above. Those pools had somehow defied the nature of other places where fresh water met salt. They remained pristine and clear, and as the sun traveled across the green of the sea's waters slowly became bluer. For a time those waters offered the refreshing balm against the crushing weight they both harbored. They had been a beloved place of sanctuary, where they knew nothing but peace, wonder, and love. Despite this splendor, they didn't compare to her eyes, but it was the very closest he had ever come to describing them.

No words would every really do. For in the first moment that he woke he had known the breadth and scope of all that was, and all that would be, for his people, and the weight of it was crushing. He could feel the sorrow and heart ache that would come of his mistakes, and feel how passion would drive him beyond the capacity for learned decision. His people, immortal and full of grace, would explore the world and love one another, and in so doing fashion their own tragic fall. The simple act of living sewed the seeds of unmaking. This was nature. This was the way of all things. The knowledge of it all nearly drove him mad.

But in his agony, he turned, and there She was. She, like him, woke with the terrible press of knowledge – they were first of men to wake; they were assailed with the indescribable vastness of consciousness. Like him, the pressure of knowing all but shattered her. And like him, she turned in that moment so that their eyes might meet. But for the blessed light of her tear-kissed eyes he would have fallen apart in that first moment that he woke into the world. And even as men and women stirred about them, waking into the world with wonder, they, the first two, lay beside one another one another, knowing full well all that was to come and enjoying this one, brief peace.

The ringing filled his head he remembered how soft the moss was as he lay there. He remembered the tickle of grass against the soft, underside of his wrist as he reached out and his fingers tangled with Hers. Most of all, though, he remembered her eyes; so gentle, so warm, so full of compassion... Oh those eyes... it would be so long until he could see them again...

The sharp report of metal on metal shook him out of the thought, and left him breathing a deep breath of shock even as the reverberating tremors in the metal of his armor rattled his arm and chest. The ringing still filled his head, and he remembered the here, and the now. Two Forsaken soldiers were before him. They were the last of another group who had fought their way to him, with guile and valor, to fall before his feet; more lives thrown away by the cruel design of his Son. The Father stood his ground and gritted his teeth as the backswing brought the cruel barb of the spear's leaf-shaped head against his the curve of his shoulder, catching and dragging him forward a step before he dipped with the motion and stepped free of the exchange.

Moments ago, the weapon had slammed against his helm, and left his ears ringing. Perhaps it had struck him harder than he had thought, if he was to so easily find himself lost in thought at a time like this. All of it had occurred in the span of seconds.

Mentally, he shook himself and braced. Letting his guard down had resulted in the blow that left his ears ringing. These were Forsaken: men and women whom his Son had bred and molded into a warrior before finally stripping them of their souls to fuel His cruel sorceries. There was naught left but the vessels of men before him, and though they might think and reason and feel, they possessed no soul for him to sense. They leveled the field against his magic, engaging him in a fight that in which his otherworldly senses could not avail him. The Father mourned them as he shuffled back, regaining his balance and bracing for the fight. Their brief lifetimes were all that they would ever know.