Creation

Book One: The Balance of Life and Death

 

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Vorador . . . then he’d be mine.

 

Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy) and a lemon, if this offends or upsets you do not read this, it that simple.

 

Rating: NC-17

 

Pairing: Raziel/Kain

 

Setting: post all games  

 

EXPRESS WARNING: Spoilers for all the games. This fic is seriously out of it, SERIOUSLY its just odd.

 

Dedications: As always this is dedicated in part to my beta reader ‘Odeena Skywalker’ aka ‘Anne Shard’ because without whom this would most likely be practically unreadable for many. Also this goes to another friend of mine who would like to remain nameless but he’s been a great help and I just want to let him know how grateful I am.

 

Summery: The games are over Nosgoth has been saved. A decision is made about life and death. Life goes on until a newer or perhaps older enemy rears its head and a warrior must rise.

 

Authoress note: this is my first fic in ages that not set in the Blood omen two time frame!!

 

Also please note due to the length of this fic it has been broken up into separate parts ‘Books’ each will be about four/five chapters long. This is Book one.

 

Italics mean either flashbacks or thoughts

 

 

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Chapter One

 

{Kain}

 

It was over. It was all over.

 

Those thoughts felt strange and foreign, clanking about inside his mind like lead in water. The more he repeated the words inside his head the stranger they felt. But he could not deny it, it was over, he had done it, he had won. After an immortal lifetime of fighting, victory had been achieved, and he’d been alive to witness it. Watching the pillars pull themselves back together had been breathtaking, watching the blackness crumble from them like ash from a fire leaving them white and pristine had been almost unbelievable. Feeling the power of the land rush into them and pulse back out made him feel almost giddy. Watching it all happen before him, he had to resist the urge to pinch himself, knowing that it would probably ruin the image of reverence if the one to save the pillars started pinching himself to check if he were dreaming.

 

With a loud wordless shout of relief and victory he allowed himself to collapses backwards, landing with a heavy thump on the now lush grass surrounding the pillars. He could feel the life pouring back into Nosgoth. Everything felt revitalised, even the dirt underneath him seemed to vibrate with teeming life. The cry of birds sounded above him and he had to wonder briefly how such delicate creatures had survived the corruption when those more durable had not. But that mattered little now; now, everything that had gone wrong, everything that had died before it was due would be set right. The time stream would repair all the rips and tears and everything would be recovered.

 

He could finally relax, it was over. No more, it was at an end, all his sacrifice, all his effort, it had all been worth it. A pang of guilt and pain seared through him as the thought of Raziel entered his mind; maybe not all the sacrifice had been fully worth it. But Raziel seemed to have thought it was worth it, otherwise why would he have given himself so willingly at the end? Kain closed his eyes slowly. Raziel had given himself to the sword when he had understood the true gravity of their situation. That act made the guilt grow tenfold inside of Kain. If only he had trusted his child, if only he had told him everything from the beginning, then maybe he could have avoided all the pain he had caused his eldest - maybe he could have avoided the hatred his eldest had held for him for so long.

 

He’d watched as Raziel’s eyes had grown dim, as he had faded into the sword, and he’d watched as Raziel’s hatred for him had fallen away like the blackness from the pillars. He’d been so angry then, so angry at the injustice of it all, enraged with the world; he’d been angry enough at that moment to quite easily have said ‘sod it all,’ and have pulled the sword from his child. Let the world crumble and rot, it was not worth losing one so . . . needed.

 

So no maybe not all the sacrifice had been worth it.  

 

Movement suddenly disturbed him. His already half asleep mind tried to ignore it, but his sharply honed instincts wouldn’t let him. Opening an eye, he spotted Vorador on the edge of the clearing. The elder vampire shockedly looked up at the perfect pillars, then down at the vampire sprawled across the grass at the foot of them. A look of fear and sadness crossed his features, but a lazy wave from Kain let Vorador know he wasn’t looking at a corpse. He watched as the elder vampire made his way across the grass towards him and even managed a smirk up at him. Vorador sat heavily down beside him.

 

“Bastard,” Vorador spoke, his voice soft as if this were now a holy place. “Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

 

“I’d appreciate it if you could hold off on any life-threatening ailments,” Kain murmured, yawning widely. “After all the effort I’ve just put into saving you and everything else, it would be a bit insulting for you to die again so soon.”

 

“I’ll try, just for you though…” Vorador was looking up at the pillars, watching the perfect edifices rise upwards and disappear into the sky.

 

“Thank you,” Kain yawned again.

 

He couldn’t keep his eyes open. A terrible exhaustion rushed over him, like water over smooth rocks. He was so tired, tired of everything, tired of life. A strange thought brushed gently through his mind, he had completed his purpose, and now he could finally rest… He opened his eyes and blinked; the thought had felt different, like someone had put it there and he knew that ‘rest’ was not sleep. Yet he found he wasn’t afraid. Quite the opposite, he . . . actually welcomed the idea, free of pain, free of duty and responsibility. It wasn’t the first time he had thought of dying, it had crossed his mind many a time. Many a night he’d sat contemplating how he would feel if the only way to truly restore balance would be in exchange for his life; in the beginning he’d been angry, frustrated; after all, what was the point of life if you were only to die? There was no meaning to his life! But then, over time, the anger faded, a sort of acceptance grew inside of him until, after thousands of years of fighting, he had actually begun to welcome the idea. Freedom from everything. He’d saved the world, surely that gave his life back the meaning that had been stolen by the creature beneath the pillars.

 

A strange smile crossed his lips and he reached out to run fingers over the deadly blade lying next to him; he could be free. He stopped suddenly. Something was wrong.

 

The blade was warm.

 

He muttered a rather decorative profanity, making Vorador raise his eyebrows at him in surprise. Sitting up, ignoring the ache in his back, he lifted the blade into his lap. It was warm to the touch and heating up more with every passing moment. He cursed again, the exhaustion sweeping over him harder this time. Damn it all to hell and back again, every time he thought he was close to ending everything something new had to occur and prevent him from finishing what he now believed he’d been put here to do. Why was nothing ever straight forward? The blade continued to heat up in his hands until it was burning him; he dropped the blade onto the grass and watched it burn the ground.

 

“What?” Vorador asked.

 

“Little bugger!” Kain snapped. Vorador raised an eyebrow in question. “Damn thing burnt me,” was the only answer Kain gave. Truthfully this worried him, worried him more than he would have liked to admit. Previously, the blade had always felt right in his hands, felt like it belonged there; there was a strange power holding the two of them together. Never before had the blade truly harmed him, even when Raziel had held it at his throat or when the Serefan Lord had fought him with it.

 

Kain glanced at his hands, watching the last of the burn heal and fade. This was strange.

 

“You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?” Vorador sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with his claws as if he felt a headache coming.

 

“No, I feel I rarely know what’s going on anymore. I’m becoming rather good at improvising…” Kain muttered, watching the blade as it grew hotter still, the blade turning white now and seeming to melt, shaped metal slowly becoming formless.

 

“It’s . . .  destroying itself,” Vorador breathed.

 

Then suddenly everything went white.

 

{Raziel}

 

The heat was becoming too much to bare. He would have cried out if he’d been able. It was the abyss all over again, white hot fire. But there was something different to the heat this time, it was burning hot, yet it wasn’t painful in the way it had been before. Truly it hurt, it hurt more than he could ever possibly say, but it wasn’t pulling him apart, it was forcing him back together.

 

“Fire is used both to create and destroy,” a voice spoke. He tried to move, to get a look at where the voice could possibly be coming from; it was not a voice he recognised.  He reached out a hand and stopped dead.

 

It was then it struck him, struck him like a hammer on an anvil. He had form once more, legs and arms, fingers and toes, it was all here and it was all pristine white and whole. He was no longer the wraith-like creature he had become, he was himself as he knew himself to be, he was solid and whole. He was a vampire once more. The feeling of having a body, of being able to reach out and touch things once more and be touched by things was almost too much. He felt himself go suddenly dizzy, but a coolness rushed through him, sobering him, taking all feelings of dizziness away.

 

“Welcome, Raziel,” the voice spoke again. It was female, soft and gentle like a mother talking to her child.

 

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Why have you brought me here?” He opened his mouth again to ask where exactly ‘here’ was and felt himself bite his own tongue; ridiculously he laughed, it had been so long he’d almost forgotten how to use his mouth, almost forgotten just how sharp his little fangs were.

 

“I am Fate, Raziel,” the woman spoke, “and I have brought you to the void to give you a choice. The first real choice.”

 

“What choice?” he shouted, turning round, looking for the woman but not finding her.

 

“The only choice you and your father have ever had to make, the only choice that matters and the only one I can give you.” Raziel rolled his eyes, delighted for a split second at being able to do so once again. Why couldn’t anyone just speak plainly was beyond him, was no one capable of plain speech any more? Then a new thought struck him,

 

“Kain’s here?” he asked

 

“Yes,” the woman answered, “in a way. You cannot reach him however; the choice must not be influenced by anything or anyone.”

 

“Oh bloody wonderful,” Raziel muttered. It was the first time in decades that he’d had a body, the first time in a millennium that he hadn’t been raging at his father and he couldn’t go to him, couldn’t speak to him, couldn’t touch him. He shivered, suddenly cold, all that time they’d. . . he’d wasted hating him, when Kain had been right all along, it made his entire body ache.

 

“Just give me the choice,” he muttered, but before the woman spoke again the white light surrounding him grew more intense, and for a split second it burned him, made his eyes feel like water had been poured into them. “What the . . .,” he shouted

 

“Your father has made his choice,” the woman spoke, “now you must do the same.” The light dimmed slightly and for a moment Raziel could see beyond it, he could see the pillars, he could see Vorador, he could see Nosgoth. “I give you the choice that was denied you long ago,” the strange woman spoke;  “I offer you the respite of death or the chance to live out your life as it was originally intended.”

 

“Live or die,” Raziel simplified, not much of a choice in his opinion. The answer was obvious.

 

Then the light was gone, he was kneeling at the foot of the pillars, hands and knees pressed against the cold marble. Suddenly a weight settled itself across his shoulders. He turned to look and saw a burgundy coat had been draped over him; he smiled gratefully at Vorador, who was leaning over him curiously.

 

“Raziel?” he asked. Raziel nodded, his throat to dry for words.

 

Raziel looked around, noticing the purity of the pillars, the lushness of the landscape around them. He’d done it then, Kain had won, he’d always known his father would eventually triumph, he’d never lost faith; the thought brought a smile to his face for a few moments before it was replaced by confusion.

 

“Vorador, where’s Kain?”

 

End of Chapter one

 

Authoress Note: Well that’s the start of it. I hope you liked, but I wont know unless you tell me now will I *hint, hint*

 

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