death

More. More.

Eh. That spells out the story of his life, doesn't it?> Was it supposed to hold some meaning to it or just describe how it was? Life was cruel, they faced odd, but what they didn't do was not oppose what they thought was /wrong/ and that felt way better than whatever it was the spirit would ever feel. To t-hem, even living 18 years of meaningful life all led up to a moment where they were just killed in the background, randomly and not even really talked about.

Losers. Nobodies. That is what they were considered, weren't they? Ehe.

That's funny.

However, he can't laugh. For some reason the fuel pumping through him takes him through the battle, with each rake of his sword and movement made he further lowers the spirit's health, getting it so damn close to falling that he could taste it and what guided him? It wasn't some spirit that refused to accept change - even bad. That couldn't think, that only fought for somebody that thought of himself as the supreme ruler of Cruxati.

Did he even try in all those years he didn't exist? Did this place really have any life with him here and not Leland? It didn't, so it felt nothing, but right to fight this god like power that deemed them all unworthy for...

This land isn't Sibri's anymore. It isn't what it used to be, what Gehenna stood for now? It wasn't meant to be what he thought it should be. It wasn't meant to be so fucking stale, so stagnant, so god damn boring that nobody wanted to even live here let alone walk through here.

Leland made it work, Leland made the dream work, he slaved himself to feed those that wanted to be fed by him. He made it what it is, he brought these people here, he made them feel at home, he made waves across the continent, he made those to the west come over, he made those that were in the north vanish. He made the vampires and even dawn want his head in those time.

What did Sibri do for this generation?

Nothing.

His body is rocked back, his vision, blurry and thoughts scattered, it was more about this all, leading up to this, what did it mean? Why did it matter?

It didn't, none of them did. To people like Sibri, those strong people? They were background people that just did something bad! They deserved to die! Life is meaningless in the eyes of those with power and they call that corruption, because for somebody who was so adamant about spirits, he was far too corrupt in Daichi's eyes.

"Jujube-" his eyes wander, looking for her and before he knows it, he dies to the flames, occult powers and lashings of the spirit that wishes to defend - that wishes to hunt two people, but takes others in turn. He falls, he skids and he gets to see her for one last time, hand coming up to her cheek before what is left of him fades away into the next life.

His vision? Gone.
His dreams? Gone.
The rest of his life? Gone.
And for what? Doing what he wanted to? Defending somebody that believed in him, that took care of him, that strived to bring him up and make him something?

That was worth it. "-sorry."
The last words heard from his mouth as he lays lifeless in front of her, fallen in the background because the spirit wanted more, more. This is the life he got to live until the end, nothing more than a sad solider for Leland that died to something that could likely destroy a whole town on its own.
(Daichi)

It was unreal. Lyrian rolled away repeatedly to avoid getting caught in the crossfire of the tumultuous battle. The sight of the world as he knew it being sundered by the great Wraith that was supposed to be the guardian of their settlement... was something he would never forget. The quaking ground were not all that shook him to his physical core--something much, much more grotesque would foster in Lyrian today. After the umpteenth roll out of danger's way, Lyrian's blue eyes drift over to the square before he sees it.

Something that makes his eyes widen. His vision progresses in slow-motion, and the pictures go nearly still.

The blood coursing through him freezes, and his heartbeat stills.

A thundering sound erupts as the wraith Tlazhotla opens its maws to emit a massive wall of fire at the many combatants around it. The fallout is immeasurable, and the image he sees--of his father's last hour--simply reverberates and replays in his mind like ahaunting, broken record.

The great beast's flames roll out at Leland's crimson, floating vampiric figure, before sweeping him up in its entirety. The flames continue, and when they are gone, not even a shred of his father's figure is left.

Gone?

Lyrian's pupils constrict, and his blood comes to a complete halt. He wants to scream, but he chokes on his own voice. Losing all strength in his knees, the young boy collapses to his rear and leans back onto an arm, barely keeping himself afloat. This had to be a nightmare, right? He just had to open his eyes, right? This didn't happen right? "Father, hahahaha.... hah.... hahah.... no, this has to be fake.." the boy croaks out, barely squeezing out a sobbing voice. "Wh-"

Two trails of tears trickle from his eyes down his cheeks. Pinching his face into a rictus of horror and grief, the now-orphan boy clutches his chest painfully. There wasn't anything he could grasp onto. No carcass signifying the last of his father's presence. Even anything remotely close to a memento had been annihilated.

No nothing.

It was complete emptiness.

A part of Lyrian's heart seems to...crack off. A sense of loss, but he does not know what it is. A void, a holy in his chest that could never be filled.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" he screams, sobbing now. Keeling over, the boy gets on all four, slamming his hands into the ground.

He breathes hard onto the tiles, bringing his face down onto it. There's no comfort even when he seeks it, and there's no way for him to cope with having the entire sky come crumbling down on him. A part of him that would never be restored had just been shaved off of his soul.

Scratching his talons and claws against the ground, he trashes around for several minutes before simply...

...slumping over onto his face and front, arms down his sides. Unmoving, broken.

Lyrian's eyes cloud over and become grey, and he keeps mumbling something incomprehensive.
(Lyrain Lelhua)