Evil in you

Flowing Tears

Even though the Cell was windowless, Antti knew that it was just before dawn when he awoke. That was because he always woke up just before dawn. Ignoring the aches and pains of his age and flail ravaged body he moved in front of the cell-door and prostrated himself, awaiting its opening.

But it never came.

Antti waited for hours in front of the door - ignoring the loud and cacophonous sounds above, for he was not worthy to comprehend or speculate on their origin or nature - he remained on his knees, unmoving, until a great force ripped the door clean from its hinges. Even as dust swirled around him and the rest of the cell wall collapsed he remained prostrate, afraid to look up lest he see a sight he were not permitted to see.

Eventually, however, base curiosity got the better of him. Cautiously raising his head Antti gasped in horror as he saw the damage that had been done to the Lord's house. A great hole had been torn in the floor above, exposing the Cell and destroying its entrance. Antti could only imagine what sort of force was required for such violence. His bewilderment was quickly replaced by righteous indignation; who or what would dare to violate the sanctuary of the Lord's home? Indignation turned to icy dread with the thought that the household had been attacked while he had been doing nothing. Horrified at his own sloth Antti scrambled clumsily to his feet and hobbled up and out from the Cell.

Blinking, his eyes adjusted to the light streaming through the horrendous gashes torn in the fabric of the house by what had clearly been terrible and destructive weapons. Every step Antti took increased his fear and his guilt. Everywhere were signs of conflict; the characteristic burns of the blasphemous energy weapons that the Heathens were rumoured to use, rents and craters blasted into the walls by explosives. Splinters of shredded wood stabbed into Antti's bare flesh as he brushed past shattered paneling, but he was too numb from shock to feel it.

How could this have happened? How could the Heathen have struck so decisive a blow upon the Lord's household? How could Antti have allowed it to happen? Broken glass crunched underfoot as he passed the kitchen, the gently smoking bodies of servants splayed across counter tops and blood-streaked tiles. Antti barely noticed them. He was too shocked for his brain to even consider them.

His hatred for the Heathen knew no bounds. He knew how degenerate and how savage they were, he had been well-educated in how blind they were. He had learnt by heart the lessons on how they hatefully and blindly wanted to stamp out the light his Lord would bring to them, but even this seemed beyond their malice, and certainly beyond their capabilities. Such an attack was unprovoked, surely. What could they hope to gain from such wanton destruction? While Antti dared not try and fathom the thought processes of such vile creatures, he failed to see even the bare shred of logic to their actions.

The Lord and his household were beautiful, shining examples to look up to, even for a Heathen; they were to be respected and feared - not attacked and violated. Anttii could not comprehend such savagery, such disdain or such lack of respect.

A soft groan caught his attention and he hurried to its source. Coming into the Grand Hallway Antti saw his Lord laid out at the foot of the stairs. A great wound had opened his belly, exposing innards which spilled down around him, but through sheer force of will - or maybe divine intervention - he lived still, though he was deathly pale.

"Lord!" Antti choked, dashing over and falling again to his knees. His Lord's eyes focused on him with evident difficulty, and then he smiled. It the same warm smile that had filled Antti with joy all those times over the years, even if it was on a face splattered with blood.

"Antti. It is good to see you are still alive," he said. His voice was calm, not betraying a hint of pain. Truly, Antti thought, his Lord was an example to all. He desperately wanted to ask why this had happened, but he knew that it was not his place to ask. There was only one question he could ask:

"My Lord, what do you require of me?" He asked, his voice cracking as tears filled his eyes. His Lord chuckled, blood frothing on his lips.

"Oh Antti, there is no need for such formality now. I am dying, and have no need of it. The Heathen has risen up against me, Antti, and against my family. Unprovoked! They have taken my children from me - you must get them back!" He said, descending into wracking coughs.

"How, my Lord?"

"Take up my armour, Antti; it will protect and guide you."

"Y-your armour, Lord? But I am unclean and unworthy!"

"Do not worry Antti, there is the glimmer of righteousness in all souls, even one as tarnished as yours. You will succeed, I know it. The armour will recognize my righteousness in you and allow you to make use of it. We are all tools in the grand plan, Antti, some simply are more effective than others. Now go quickly; every minute that passes is a minute closer to the fruition of the Heathen's no-doubt dark plans! You must not let them succeed, Antti!"

His Lord pushed him away, smearing Antti in his blood. Antti faltered for a moment but, drawing strength from his Lord's resolute faith in the face of impending and painful death from blood-loos, he got back to his feet. He wiped the tears and snot from his face with the back of his arm - inadvertently wiping more of his Lord's blood across himself.

"As you command, Lord," he said, bowing and, with great effort,  turning away to find the armour.