For all themany places I’ve been over this globe, this is my first time flying through the outer atmosphere into space. It’s very cold. Not to mention the whole lack of air thing.
It feels strange at first to not breathe and feel my feathers crystalize in the beyond freezing temperatures.
My flight slows as I struggle to adjust to the darkness lit only by a million stars. I can’t imagine the warmth of the woman I just left behind. But just the thought of her is enough to spur me forward in spite of the discomfort.
I am a Horseman of the Apocalypse, and a little discomfort is nothing to me. Finally, I have a worthy opponent.
Not that I have any idea how to fight them.
I don’t have sword or spear, and I don’t think they’re capable of language, so I doubt I’ll be able to persuade them to turn back. But I am rage, and I am chaos, and there is no turning back now.
So, I press on.
Ten more minutes, and I cannot feel my legs, arms, or face. But my wings continue to propel me, and what is the point of feeling one’s limbs anyway? My tail has curled around my legs as if that can stave off the sub-freezing temperatures, and I’m vaguely afraid it might snap and break off completely.
The thought doesn’t deter me.
I am made of eternal material. My father grew back to full strength from a mere ember of ash. Granted, my brothers and I are not the same as him—he was merely our architect.
But surely being eternal means being able to survive a little interspace travel? Too late to turn back now, anyway. I’m closer to the sun now than I am to the Earth, and I can just see thetail end of the Devourers. I press myself to move with even more speed.
I hear the crack but don’t look over my shoulder to doublecheck. All feeling is secondary at this point, but I think it’s what I feared.
I think I’ve just lost my tail.
By the time I reach the back of the line of glowing Devourers, my mind starts growing fuzzy.
I may be eternal but I’m starting to suspect that doesn’t mean indestructible. Maybe there is something beyond hell-metal that can kill us. Huh. All this time, it was waiting in the deep sky above our heads, and we simply didn’t realize it.
I mean, even I had heard the story of Icarus. The storytellers just got it wrong. He didn’t die because his wings melted off. They froze, and then he fell from the sky. But there’s no gravity here. I won’t fall back to Earth, my body to be mourned by my beloved in the moments before her sky goes dark forever.
At least I will have finally killed Romulus.
The thought should bring satisfaction. That’s what I’ve wanted all this time, isn’t it? Joking that I wanted toget rid of the parasitewas a coward’s euphemism.
I’ve wanted him dead. Not only that,Iwanted to kill him.
Like Cain and Abel, I wanted to fight him to the death, standing over my brother as the sole owner of this body.
That’s who we are, aren’t we?War? Two souls locked in eternal battle for one body.
If I get the both of us killed, will that bring half the satisfaction? I’m too cold and exhausted to even laugh.
Chaos reigns to the end. It’s all meaningless. There is no satisfaction here, but there never is. There never will be a victor, only ever this useless, endless struggle between us and then…
Darkness.
Cold.
I can’t flap my wings anymore; it’s just the propulsion I began with that continues me forward in the airless void of space.
My mind blinks in and out of consciousness, but at least the vampire’s blood coursing through my veins allows me to stay in the barest of control. I’m glad for that.
It would feel even more cowardly to sleep now and give this final battle to the tactician. Even if he’s better suited to coming up with some brilliant last-minute strategy.
I shake my head—or try to. Everything’s so cold and fuzzy. There’s no time for second-guessing now. I’m barely conscious as it is.
I reach the front of the line of Devourers, so bright from their internal lights, as we all approach the burning ball of the sun.
