Goat Bits

Hurricane

Around him, the rain was warm; deceptively comforting against the fear clawing its way from the confines of Vlad's chest to the surface. Suffocating him and drawing all breath from his lungs, leaving icy shards in its wake. Fear should not affect him like this. He is a God; the Dominex of Knowledge, immortal and omniscient. Knowledge lived within him, became him even.

He knew Goat was dying. His sole purpose fulfilling itself with the knowledge that the only man he ever loved was on death's door and he could do nothing. However, no amount of omniscience could prepare him for the feeling of that same soul being ripped from his own. It was as if he had swallowed glass and allowed it free reign to the tender meat of his heart. The path it shredded left Vlad choked, unable to pull in a true breath.

He was drowning in emotions never experienced. Nothing could have prepared him for this. The knowledge there, but never able to be understood. Not until now. Not until he was fighting fate and death themselves to get to Goat. The clawing fear chased sorrow in his chest, carving a harsh abyss that seemed to grow as he ran to the last place Goat was.

The rain was warm and the lightning bright. He chased the path of lightning, unable to hear the booming thunder and pattering rain over the pounding of his heart and the blood rushing in his ears. The quiet prayer-turned-mantra to let his love still be alive was ignored by the cold fact that he was gone.

Gone.

Any hope, be it false or not, fell to the wayside. No one could argue the impersonality of facts. They cared not who and what you were. They came and destroyed the falsity that was hope. He was not prepared for the agony stabbing through his chest, a physical pain that he tried to claw out. The blood welling up from the long stripes in his skin faded pink with the downpour soaking him through. He staggered, his knees connecting with the floor; the tearing of his pants and the stinging of the scrapes was ignored in favor of the white hot pain searing through his chest. His breathing was frantic, the edges of his vision darkening.

'You're hyperventilating.' A monotone thought flitting through his head, another fact that was known. He tried to calm himself, succeeding only in dragging choppy breaths that did nothing for the burning in his lungs. Tears blurred his vision and he managed to get his breathing under control after several minutes under the warm rain.

He didn't understand. Why did this happen? Why was a vibrant life snuffed before those who deserved it more? Why not the cannon fodder Goat so desperately tried to protect?

Vlad knew why. It was revenge at its coldest. You betrayed the Dominex. We destroyed the object of your love. Ankh, the Dominex of Fate, was cruel like that. Her loyal servant, Behemotcoitl, Dominex of Death, even crueler. In the back of his mind, Vlad knew he deserved this. A price for his complacency.

He didn't dare look up. He couldn't bear to see the shell where green eyes and a kind smile once played. This thing, this empty lifeless doll was not his Goat. It couldn't be. It was too still. Goat was never still, always moving and laughing; a kind soul robbed of life too soon.

Vlad forced his eyes to the form in front of him, entirely unprepared for the sight of the man he loved so still and lifeless. He could have been sleeping if not for the blood.The body slumped sideways into the wall was a porcelain doll painted in thick crimson around his midsection and chest. The scent of iron was overwhelming, thick and cloying, forcing its way into his nostrils. Bile rose in the back of Vlad's throat. This wasn't Goat. There was no way this was Goat.

His knowledge told him otherwise. This was Goat, cold and gray.

Shaking hands pulled the slumped form to Vlad's chest, one last attempt to hold what was dear. He couldn't hear the scream that tore from his throat; a raw and agonizing sound. The sound of a thousand mirrors shattering with the force of his agony. He knows he screamed. He felt the scream turning into a raw sobbing deep in his chest. Vlad tried to muffle the ugly sounds from within by burying his face into his lover's soaked hair. Pressing a kiss to the cool temple to calm the emotions churning in his mind.

The sudden flash of white hot fury chasing the despair and sorrow into retreat was unexpected but not unwelcome. Fury was safer than grief. Fury was the twisted grimace that overtook pale features. Fury was the heavy breathing hissing through clenched teeth. Fury was the second scream, raw and primal. The scream not of a man mourning, but a predator ready to wage war on his lover's behalf and drag the soul back to its home.

Ankh would pay. She would pay for being a sick bastardization of fate. She would pay for allowing Behemotcoitl the chance at that which was not his. The whole Dominex would pay. Watch their towers fall around them. Let them suffer as he had. Deny them the love they so selfishly took from him.

They failed to remember the knowledge he possessed. He would help them remember.

The Glass King. The Dominex of knowledge would rise again.

Vlad stood, the air around him shattering like glass, Goat's body slack in his arms. The shards swallowing them whole, taking them to the safety of the Library of Alexandria.

Behind them the storm had passed. The air warm and calm. But another lay on its horizon, worse than before.