The blood dripped down the sleek blade, oh how it felt so good he silently lilted. Humming to himself he finally understood how whole he was, how pure he had become by the one swift movement of his hand and blade as it kissed the last of his clan. His veins no longer coursed with acrid blood but of water. Pure and cleansed more so then any of the saints, he thought joyously.
Meticulously cleaning his blade he was clouded by a memory of none other than his mother and of the day she told of the coming rebellion between Saos and their leader Ran. It was inevitable but not foreseen. As like many childhood stories his mother would tell, the noble leader had fallen and the evil confidant had risen. But during the last battle the leader had yelled to the skies a curse. What was more baffleing was the curse was intended for his son... |
Submission Name: The Curse
