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Syndel's Spire
Syndel's Spire

My texts (78)
My series (10)




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00th 0000

Syndel's Wings

Added:July 02nd 2009, 20:08:36
Rating:5/5 (Votes: 1)


Crouched, alone. I saw you. In darkness, twisted and covering yourself, crying tears into the darkness. “Syndel,” I whispered, “What happened to your wings?”
Black stumps, bloodied and cold. I saw your pain. “Syndel...”
You do not hear. Your eyes, glowing red in the darkness, lighting the floor. I cannot reach you, face locked in pain. Feathers litter the spotlight, the corridor you ran down, into darkness, underground. Away from the sun. Like a frightened child, harmed and scared you ran, ran blindly passing the many doorways, past the broken glass and scattered debris, past the shadows leaping and dancing in the darkness. You balance on the knife edge, or the point of a spindle, spinning your life in strands of red in the blackness.
He banished you, banished you to this hall of darkness, “I see your memories, Syndel”, you turn away. Why did you have to fight him?
You speak: “It wasn't fair.”, simple. Your words fixed with conviction even through your pain. “Justice,” you say, “justice is just a name by which he judges. Will always judge now.” Your voice breaks. “They must all know by now, we have failed. I have lost... we have lost”
I had nothing to reply, I could not leave, so I stayed. “My thoughts are with you, Syndel.”
“As are mine,” he replied.

“Once I flew,” you spoke after a moment “up above the stars, above the heavens, playing with the others in the ethereal sun. We flew then too, and you would always comfort me, tell me what to do. I held you dear to me like my own flesh and blood, you gave me the wings I was created with, you gave me the breath I was created to breath. We talked forever without saying a word, why do you speak to me now? We flew among the stars and you never spoke, 'Syndel' never pierced your lips, you never needed to speak. Why now when it's too late? Why now when all is lost and I am cursed by him? Why now when my wings lay strewn among this wreckage like a stricken bird? Why am I stricken?” you spoke angrily without ever raising your voice.
“Syndel, he didn't want me to find you,”
“I didn't want you to find me.” you replied “Why did you leave me?”
“He tore me from you as he tore your wings” I replied.
I saw you reach round and touch the painful stumps where once white brilliance had erupted and beat to the pattern of your emotion. Blackened, bloody lumps. They were no more brilliant.
“What now?” you asked of me, like you had asked my advice more times than you knew.
“I can't tell you that.” I replied regretfully, each moment wishing it were not true.
“Without you... I have no control.” you spoke, poor Syndel.
“You are the banished one, do you remember his words, Syndel? 'Banished forever to walk the underworld, removed of all power and conscience, you will lord over the realm of the damned, others like you, traitors, criminals, murderers. For you and them there can be no penance paid. I shall be obeyed'”
“I am evil then?” you said.
“Without me, I fear you will be. I cannot stay.” I replied.
“Damned without conscience? To become the very evil I seeked to depose, to become the very essence of a demon, or a god? Truly there can be no worse punishment for an angel such as me.”
I said nothing. I didn't want to say goodbye.
“Conscience, as you must leave as my wings and freedom before me, answer me this,” you said, standing. “What may I remember you by? What name would you wish upon yourself?”
I hesitated. “I am Syndel, free will and no exception. The conviction to challenge the stars, the daring to threaten the gods, the belief to stand up to even the mightiest of foes for the sake of justice. Whatever I shall become from now shall not be me, for this is as I am.” you nodded and repeated the words. “And now I must go,” I said.

I felt her leave, voice of freedom, cut like my wings, unclean and unceremoniously. She was me, but I am no more, for now I am without emotion. I am without guilt. I feel no pain for those I led to death, or worse. I feel no care for those who yet live imprisoned, I only know these to be facts. I feel no love or compassion, no regret or fear. I walk into the corridor, down the many flights of stairs, through the broken shattered revolving doors into the world of sanguine sky and where the souls swim like salmon through the streams of ether. I shall make this my new world, perhaps one day to strike again for the heavens, but if not I shall remain. Am I evil? Do I have a choice? He made me, I am his creation. I am free will without conscience, I am the devil-angel. “Ashes to ashes...”

July 02nd 2009, 22:03:28
so pretty

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Total Personal Pages: 221 - Total series: 116 - Total texts: 885
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