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“What were you like before you got sealed?” Kayn asked one evening as he was trudging up a steep mountain path, his muscles whining with exhaustion and his mind sighing with boredom. The Darkin scythe opened its singular eye from where it was strapped to his back.
A mighty warrior the likes of which this world has forgotten.
“Terrifying,” Kayn droned. “I mean what did you look like? Where did you come from? What kind of life did you lead?”
Whenever Kayn attempted to gaze into Rhaast’s history, he only found a hazy cloud of memories where past and present blurred together, with the sole exception of a dark force emerging from the entrails of the earth and laying waste to everything within reach. This he felt as clearly as a blade between his ribs, though he could never put a name to it.
Don’t they teach you about the War against the Void at school? Rhaast scowled, ever more favorable to prying on Kayn’s thoughts than to answering his questions straight on. You humans sure have a short memory.
“I didn’t go to school,” Kayn bit back, wincing under the strain of his hike. “There wasn’t exactly time for that.”
Whatever. I am sure nobody has survived it anyway. Except us. We always survive.
“We? Who’s we?”
Though he was putting all of his energy into staying upright and watching for bumps in the path, he sensed that the Darkin was making a valiant effort to delve into his own interiority—something that he hardly ever found the need for. He managed to grasp a glimpse or two of vaguely beast-shaped figures before they vaporized back into uncertainty.
There were a number of us in my time, Rhaast said at last. Equal in power… for the most part. Brothers and sisters in arms. We were respected. People looked up to us. Ha! Can you believe that? You ought to learn from them!
“Irrelevant,” Kayn grunted. “So, what, you were great, and… then what? ‘You lose the war against whatever the Void is?”
The brash ferocity that usually accompanied Rhaast’s every word suddenly died down, laying beneath the shimmering surface of a troubled lake that Kayn could barely see across. Instead, the Darkin’s intensity came through like a draft caught between gravestones.
Mortals these days believe that they have gone through the worst. They have no inkling what that might even look like.
The evening was warm, and the effort was making his body even warmer still. Kayn felt a chill anyway.
“Do you miss them?” he asked after a while, when both had retreated into their respective minds. “Your brothers and sisters?”
Watch yourself, brat. You and I aren’t on such friendly terms I would share that sort of thing with you.
“You literally live in my head, dude. We kind of are.”
No we aren’t.
“We are.”
We aren’t friends, Kayn!
“You’re not my friend,” Kayn conceded as he cast a glance at the lush valley below them; “you’re the parasite living under my skin. That makes us a bit more than friends, I reckon.”
Well, would you look at that. It wasn’t so long ago you would have blushed like a maiden at the insinuation. You’ve come so far, puppet.
“So you admit it, then? We’re close enough for you to share your feelings with me?”
I have no feelings on the matters, Rhaast spat like the word tasted particularly gross, and Kayn understood that whatever it was he’d witnessed in the War against the Void played a major part in it. None that have endured the trials of time, at least. These days, I only have one goal, and it is to un—
“To unleash your fury upon this miserable world,” Kayn finished whilst rolling his eyes, ignoring the spike of indignation that came with it. “Yes, I’m familiar, and I’ve already told you that you’ll fail. But you’re always the one bugging me about what’s in my heart and all that nonsense, so tell me, what’s in yours? What does the bloodthirsty beast yearn for once humanity has left him?”
Insolent brat, Rhaast scoffed, answering nonetheless. You think that surpassing Zed will turn you into the perfect weapon, but it will never change the fact that you are human, and that you are weak. Look at your master. Look at where his heart has led him. You won’t escape this fate no matter how hard you try. You and I are nothing alike. My life as a mortal was so short in comparison to everything that came after, it may as well have never happened at all.
“Yes, but if I overcome you, then surely—”
Rhaast barked out a laugh. It rang between Kayn’s ears like a hundred bells.
As if that would ever happen! You may have resisted until now, but nobody can withstand the will of a God-Warrior for very long. You will fall sooner or later.
“Don’t act like you haven’t been enjoying killing with me at the helm,” Kayn grumbled. He grabbed onto a nearby tree to ease his following step.
Oh, I have, I have, and I am not hiding from that. But I certainly would like it more if it were me making the decisions. What you have given me… it is but a mockery of freedom. It is almost insulting. Truly, the best thing you could do, Kayn, is lose yourself to me. Then you would see how beautiful true carnage really is.
“Why do you care what I live to see or not?” Kayn snapped. “I thought you wanted nothing to do with mortals.”
The Darkin hummed beneath his skin, sending a ripple through his core and nuzzling nicely in a spot behind his eyes.
Does the wild hunter not toy with its prey before devouring it? Indulge me. You are the only one who’s heard of my plans; you can at least bear witness to them.
“Well, that’s very kind of you, Rhaast, but I have no intention of being your plaything.”
Kayn finally stopped, having reached the top of the hill. The sun had dipped so far below the horizon line that most of the stars were showing, and he could see the smoke of a campfire in the distance. He reached behind him to seize the scythe, his fingers skimming across the rugged haft. Rhaast’s grin was so wide it tugged at his own lips.
We’ll see.