Author: Johannes "Jergen[K]" Cruz			Viewing: Chapter 4

The sea crashed into the rocks far below him and melted into foam. He fancied, just for a moment, that he could feel the salty mist sprinkle his cheeks. He leaned forward, his dark hair whipping about his shoulders in a silken fury, stark against the nearly silver paleness of his bare skin. Full lips parted in a smile as he opened his eyes to the night sky. This was bliss, the simple ecstasy of the content. His slender fingers rested lightly on the nearly white marble of the carven banister he stood upon. Like the cup of a stone hand the portico jutted out from his chambers in the rear of his estate and hung far above the raging sea below. When he leaned far enough out he could forget that there was a mountain behind him at all. He could close his eyes and let the wind caress him, its tendrils running over his flesh with all of the gentleness of an eager lover. He would quiver with it, the expectant rush of flight, and the absolute independence from gravity. It was as close to becoming oblivious as he could imagine being, and as often as he could, he lost himself in it. His bare feet touched the cool stone of the landing and he smiled. For a moment he slid his naked toes over the smooth marble and reveled in the stolen freedom of the night. All around him the waves roared their secrets to all that would listen, and the sky lay open its countless treasure atop delicate obsidian skies. The moons had fallen away beneath the hungry sea, but the silver light of evening remained despite their absence. The doors to his chambers stood open before him, the crimson draperies, nearly black in the darkness, moving with the rhythm of night’s breath. He paused, leaning against one of the doors, twining his hands in the soft fabric of the hangings and peered in at the sleeping form sprawled in the satin bed sheets. The line of her back was perfectly smooth, meeting her small neck and raven hair. Her breathing was a whisper in the quiet room as he crossed to her, running a single finger down the line of her back to the swell of a hip. Her skin had the texture of new milk; it slid under his touch like so much silk. He longed for her, the ache in him a quick pain that stoked the fires of passion to white hot. She did not wake, but a sigh escaped her lips, and for a moment her breathing quickened. With great effort he turned away from her and strode into his bathing room. A crouched lion, carved of stone gilded with gold and copper, sat along one wall. Heated water flowed from the great maw into a pool longer than three men and twice as wide. Here, the marble had not been polished white, but was instead very dark, almost black and shot through with veins of gold metal. He leapt at the steaming water, landing in a great spray near the center of the pool and coming up with a great smile on his face. His thick hair coiled about his face and neck and he had to struggle with it so that he could see again, and when he could, he was no longer alone. “It is good to see you little brother,” the stranger said from where he stood in the doorway. Where once the night had seemed soft, it was now menacing. Where this being’s presence drifted the water cooled to ice and cracked on the floor. His dark robes drank in the feeble light of the few candles around the bathing pool and seemed to fill the air around them both with living darkness. The man in the pool became very still, his eyes blazing up at the one before him, “Why have you come?” “You know why, you have always known this day must come,” the chilling voice said, a smile could be heard in his speech. “How have you been these many years brother Canaan?” “So it is to begin now,” Canaan said, approaching the dark form standing at his door. “You would finally force me to oppose you, as you know I must.” “I would beg you to see my justice and bring me your support,” the other said, not moving. Canaan stopped, the warm water swirling about him as he did so. His fingers toyed with it as he thought, and then he simply shook his head. It was a small gesture, but it was enough. “Very well then,” the darkness swelled about the one in the doorway as he turned to go. “I will listen in the darkness, you have but to summon me if you change your mind in this little brother.” Canaan nodded blankly, but said nothing. When next he looked up, the figure was gone, leaving only swirling shadows and stinging ice in his wake. The water was no longer warm with the heat of the spring, but he scarcely felt the chill of it. Oceans of time had flown past him since the day of prophecy. He had almost dared to believe that the time would not come, that the wheel would not return to this point, but this foresight was relentless. In time the pool warmed itself again and he lay back in the soothing water and let himself float limply, buoyed by it. His hair, lighter than shadows, but not quite the color of darkened bronze, pooled out about him in a great halo about his head as he sought perfect weightlessness in the silent pool. The only sound that greeted him was that of the fountain refreshing the bath, but that was easily forgotten. Soon the muscles of his body relaxed, and he left the room dripping wet and steaming. He woke his lady with a kiss, and she was as sweet as raw honey. As the sun rose, so did she, and the darkness of the night was lost in a wash of rose dawn and burning desire.