– Your name is Ar-hon! Tireless Slave!
– Begone, Darkness! Behold the collapse of the foundation laid in me. I’ll build something different, and the eye of the depths of my soul will penetrate into your world. I’ll annihilate it and Earth Kingdom will fall! Life
is put in the people by God; you put the distortion, you are reflection of destructive spirit; you're worthless! You're weak! Your essence is Lie, the Power is illusory and the power of yours is deception and shaky. Leave! Leave me alone! You torment me! I’m perishing, and the Life is flowing down as a drop of life-giving water, as hot steel in the soul, in the heart, which you want to subdue like the body! Damn you! And I’m damned! And the Power is flowing away from the wounds of the soul left by the Spirit. It’s not able to accept the Gift of this unseen and taken away from me from the birth, from conception of originally damned soul! I hate you! I’ll destroy you! Begone… Begone! – Wanderer appeared as a child hugged by Darkness, he was twisting, suffering imprisoned in the Void, alone and naked, on bended knees in a vacuum of mob, shedding tears.
Reality dispelled the Illusion, stopping the vision and Wanderer, recovering, gradually approached Aundas. He looked into the eyes of blood brother and stooping down, dug his clawed hand into Aundas’s head and lifted him up. Turbulent flow of life, as pouncing threatening wave, instantly swept and weeded out the hidden anger and bitterness that plagued the innermost part of the soul – the memories.
– Brother, I'm sorry… – said the wanderer, and his hand crushed Aundas’s skull.
Blood dripped from his claws, soaking into the snow. Scott Renter turned and walked away and, gradually taking human form, approached Iona. The bloodied child was lying in a snow-white tomb; the warmth was leaving cold body; and different life, spreading through her veins, was transforming the dying girl. Gasping, anguished breath was bursting from the lips.
Wanderer snatched the blade glittering in moonlight from the earth; and with a cry of anguish, sobbing pierced the child's heart, and froze bowed, on bended knees near the girl. With hers last ounce Iona glanced at the drooped, smiled shyly, and froze forever. Iona’s face stamped in memory of Scott Renter indelibly, and tears shed at the moment shriveled the soul, and henceforth nothing could cause the tears of Wanderer.
A silky tender voice broke into the silence of speechless suffering. Moonlight lit a virgin in a white cloak; her soft hands pulled back the hood, revealing a high forehead, blue eyes an the face, framed by golden curls. Red lips, half-opened sensually, said mellifluously:
22
– You have not changed, Anthony…
– The only person who knows the true name of Wanderer…
– Rise, Anthony; this way is given to the dead. You, who tasted life from
the birth, got the force of the mortals. If you recant the original essence, you will be taken away the life, you will become feeble, you will become just like human beings.
Wanderer gave a sigh, grabbed the sword and approached the virgin. His gaze was stern and voice was cold.
– You rose up from the depths of the past… Annette… Are you foreshadowing the Pain and the battle of the feelings implemented in the ashes? The hammer of Fate has shattered Love and will the immortalized know the terrestrial? Will the world of Love accommodate the one who is neither alive nor dead, – lifeless, breathless… And yet, as the dust of sand hides an undercover life…
