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Requiem by MarkReaper

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I am Requiem.

It was not a name given to me by a faceless shadow at my bedside. I am not a spirit. I do not sit in the company of all the saints and prophesize that which can or cannot be, or the follies humankind brings upon itself. I am eyes as white Grecian statuary that watch the Prophecy from the darkest shadows. I am that which cannot change- but that can bring change as quickly as the sun falls down behind the earth. I am shackles personified...I am a creature that age can never touch and that pain can never release. And so I walk amongst the immortal, alongside the Prophecy, and I shall be the vapor at her side that guides her to eternity when her mortal body has failed her.

I was born like all Mystics, from the shimmer of moondust and mercury. Upon my arrival came the dirge of bitter lament. And so it was that I became the sadness and frustration that greeted my arrival upon the solid Earth, for the Mystic priests had created me while attempting to bring one of their own kind back to life. At the sight of me a cry rose into the night, from many mouths as one, and with a freezing edge it speared the night sky and made the very stars cringe. I am a mistake. I am regret.

I am Requiem.

I watch the Prophecy from my place among the rocks, where the spray breathes droplets of moisture upon my midnight cloak. She is a Gifted- I can see the aura around her, though it would not take a Seer to understand that she is something special. Her name is Dante. Yes...she is the one the priestess spoke of. I will help her bring on the Second Coming- something of which her vampire companions cannot yet comprehend. He is in the shape of a small boy with eyes like garnets. The priestess, who placed kind hands upon my head, told me of him, as well, and I have seen him on the Other Side more than once. He wanders like a lost soul, but does not moan or gibber a funeral dirge, for his voice was lost long ago, for no one ever really listened anyway. She guides him but cannot aid him on this side of Being- it is the Prophecy's job to do that, and my job to help her. And so I shall.

But so strange, so alien, is this mortal Earth. All around me things are dying, and the elders assure me that it is commonplace, natural. Nature, then, is cruel and insidious. The sun dies every night, the moon dies every morning... such misery I can hardly stand. But I shall stay and do as the elders have bidden, for I am the only one who can appear before the Gifted, and speak unto them, and I will not fail to do so. I will walk the shadows of this sordid place and leave no prints upon the surface; leave no mark upon the world. For I am Mystic, a creature born of blood, moonlight, mercury...born of magic eternal. I am the burnished gold of the harvest moon and the glimmer of the waltzing stars. I am the whisper of the sea upon immortal sands and souls...

I am Requiem.

The End
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