Eclipse - Act 4 - Cycle's End

Prologue

The Shattered Moon watched from above, staring across the World of Remnant.

A little girl laid in her bed, still wide awake, and nowhere close to falling asleep, with her mother sat on the foot of her bed. Her long red hair hung down her back, and her beautiful emerald eyes gazed down at her beautiful little girl, with a head of red hair and blonde mixed in with the crimson. "Momma... can you read me a bedtime story?" she asked softly. The mother smiled softly, caressing her cheek.

"Okay, sweetheart... let's see." She pondered, flicking through the pages of the Book of Fairy Tales, and she landed on one story.

"Well... ever heard of the Deacon's Promise?" She asked with a small smile, and the little daughter tilted her head curiously.

"No?"

"It's actually the newest one in this book, was written one year after the Dark Queen was defeated." The mother said.

The little girl's eyes widened with surprise at that, usually Fairy Tales were way older than that. Then her curiosity drifted to a certain word.

"What's a Deacon?" She asked.

Somewhere... in a dark abandoned workshop, the sound of a hammer striking steel upon an anvil echoed, and golden sparks flashed, revealing his silhouette as he hammered, whilst the words of the mother spoke to her child. "A Deacon is a sort of messenger." She answered. The hammer continued to strike. The only other light in the darkness came from the worktop lamp, shining upon the armour that was being forged. "Usually someone of from a Religious Clergy, who would spread their gospel. But a Messenger nonetheless, one who would stop at nothing to spread the word." She explained.

"But this man was no ordinary Deacon, where most were at the bottom of the hierarchy of a Religious Organisation... he stood near the Queen, and he alone would carry out her words." The mother narrated.

The hammer struck once more, and the sparks bounced off the walls, revealing the carved scars that shaped the Salem Eye marking on the man's back. The pain could be seen as sweat trickled down his spine, covered in so many scars, signs of torture.

"Go now, my Deacon. The Queen commanded. Deliver my words to all who will hear them, to those who would follow, and cut down those who would not."

"Did he... hurt people?" The child asked.

"If he had to." The mother answered.

The hammer struck once more; the sparks flashing off his furious eyes.

"But this Deacon was different, whilst his Queen was cruel, and he was expected to carry out dark deeds like every other Deacon who came before him... he chose a different path. He chose to help people instead, defied his Queen, and in the end, walked his own path, and spread a word of his own." The mother narrated.

"What did he want to tell people?" The little girl asked.

"Any who would tread on the hands of those seeketh light shall meet the embers of their punishment, by the cold steel of my blade. No longer shall we suffer under such a tyrant's rule... for the good... and the kind deserve to prosper... and the weak and the cruel... will only know the flames of their own oblivion." The mother continued.

The man set the hammer down as he stared at the armour, binding each piece of armoured metal together, and wiring the electronics together.

"What did the Queen do that was so wrong?" The child asked.

"She betrayed her people... chose her own selfishness and hatred over their own safety. She would have destroyed the world if it meant she could have the revenge she sought. This final Deacon... saw the truth... that vengeance is a cycle that only brings pain. To themselves... and everyone else around them. And nothing has ever been worth the price of revenge." She explained.