Volume V: The Tragic End of Treason

Chapter 11: We, the Damned

            The Drakes. Darius and Raine. The pinnacle of devotion - absolute, pure, the embodiment of everything it ever stood for. They lived, breathed...and died - for it. They were a step above what Shawn and Christine were, and what’s more - they were always that way. The Drakes, Darius Riddle and Raine Drake; the marriage of darkness, art and expression. They were each other’s, always. They were the founding members of Love, they started the idea of Family; they single-handedly defined Art. The world would be empty and worthless without their achievements, their commitment...and their sacrifice. They paid in blood and tears and still had each other, always and forever. And they always will. The Drakes are possibly the biggest and most elaborate of all the legends, theirs is one that will continue when all else is shadows and dust. They are the definition of Eternity. If the Endless were Death personified, they were Devotion. They died for one another, repeatedly. They suffered and cried and kept going for each other, nothing else. Not for the family they cared so dearly for, not for their jobs or friends; only for each other. When it came down to it, the hard facts and bitter truths, it was each other that they died for. Their children weren’t a factor in the equation. They are survived by us all, revered by the demons and martyrs alike. They made the impossible work, they made the improbable real. They made fact of fiction. This is theirs, above all. They died within seconds of one another. Their saga is long and hectic, their travels were hard and weary, but in the end, they proved the greatest mystery of all - Love. Love did prove real for them. Here’s to them.

            Draven, Darius’ only blood relative remaining after Uncle Cid’s untimely death, he is her guardian and caretaker in this world. The trusting companion of the pair, the soldier of fate and fortune to help them through the madness. The big brother, caring father  - vengeful mercenary of devotion. To fully understand why he did what he did would take years of explanations, and even then, his motives are questionable. Murderer, madman - martyr. The list of names go on, you could call him everything this side of never, but it wouldn’t be accurate. All of his titles fall short, all of the names that box him in - useless. Honest and faithful, Draven followed blindly because it was demanded of him, he was devoted to his causes. His motivations, his reasons were his; even Darius didn’t know the deepest fictions of his heart’s depths. Words all fall tragically short, as they were meant to.

            Syrius was everybody’s right hand guy. He was clever and quick, his manner was characteristic of a swindler. He could get whatever he needed out of anybody...and still leave them wondering how the hell he’d managed it. He was the grandfather that overlooked the plans, he kept watch over the young. He had the voice of experience burned in his throat, pain seared in his eyes. He was the survivor of a tragedy. He was a statistic. Syrius was more than a man but less than a god. His past died with desire and all that remained was the a tarnished will to live. He lived for family, to make amends for his crimes and earn salvation. He believed in love and devotion and he made use of suffering and loss. He wasn’t a true martyr, but in his own right, he was. He was unstoppable - only mortality could hinder his ways. Another name, another face - another time, another place. Another victim on the line.

            Faye was Syrius’ other, Madison’s older sister, a legend in her own right. She never was, in terms of the stories. She’s simply a name without a face, a story that none but Syrius could place. She never really lived, but she never really died either. She just was. She was Syrius’ everything - with her loss came his downfall. She is more legend than person, as all great ones are now. A once upon a time that influenced many others, a fairy tale made legacy - she was a name with a story, or maybe a story with a name. Either way, she was something.