[P] all the light we cannot see

[Raum]

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

 

Why?
 
Rhoswen’s question rings out like a death knell. But Raum does not flinch. He is forged of stone, cold, hard, unfeeling.
 
His gaze trails over every inch of the girl he once so adored and loved. A part of him shudders, a part of him that is not stone, that is not filled with arsenic and horror. It thrashes and rattles in its death throes – for Raum is dying. Each part of him is turning to ash and ruin and soon there will be nothing of him left.
 
“Because he was weak and a traitor.” Raum says at last. “Because he tried to kill me.” But Raum had been waiting for Acton’s attack. He knew what was to come, that Acton was no longer his brother, no longer his ally. He knew blood would flow like a river, that the ground would be bathed in red bloodshed.
 
He offers none of this to his Day girl of fire and light. He need not, for his skin is painted with his deeds and at his back is a ghost that haunts him all wan and pale. Oh Acton, where is your spark now?
 
Raum might have smiled, were he any other man.
 
Instead he tilts his head back, his eyes closed. Upon his lids the sun shines bright, it turns his gaze red, red,red and dries more the blood upon his skin. “Isra is gone.” He murmurs for Rhoswen, each word silken and monstrous. Each word is designed to be a dagger, for when is he ever happier than hurting the girl he hated to love?
 
Then his eyes open and they are gold and leonine. They a brilliant and bright and savage. Oh they are so laden with violence and promise and such savage desire. He sets them upon Rhoswen. He holds his fire girl there in chains of gold that sear with sunlight and the wickedness of stars.
 
From his lips slip such soft words but he has learned the art of barbed wire from Isra, and each silken word is designed to hurt. “And I am going to take Solterra from Seraphina.”
 
From you.

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@Rhoswen - this made me profoundly uncomfortable. I am sorry he is such a -every expletive under the sun-