Disclaimer: Wow, I was just thinking that I don't own Darren Shan, and here comes the disclaimer! Shuo Cao Cao, Cao Cao jiu dao!
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"Si guarda al fine."
- Niccolò Machiavelli
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It is coming. It was always coming, always had been; looming over, and more so for a vampire—a life of searing heat. It was expected.
But now it is here; and Kurda feels, almost, scared—fearful of the unknown shadow, now that he looks it in the eye.
He expected this. The disgrace. The darkness. The unknown. The loss. Of life.
So there is nothing more to do, except wait—think, and wait. Alone.
Alone. That is the word. He is to take the plunge, alone. This is no stranger to him—after all, a vampire's life is one of solitude, and passing days, passing companions.
Gavner's death was regrettable. Kurda wishes that he is still alive. But, he thinks, he would not like Gavner to glare upon him with hate, either; or, worse, see the war unfold. Yes—death is a blessing.
The end of the vampires is nigh and he, Kurda Smahlt, has failed to stop it. He walks away a traitor, and the thought of no Paradise also frightens him—he does not wish to be alone, and even less for it to be eternal. The unknown is frightening enough without evident belief.
He killed people, he thinks, as he faces the ceiling; he killed people, a pacifist like him—he set out to bring peace and survival—the thought numbs him down, the thought of the vampires and vampaneze, wallowing in their tradition, dying so blindly. But throughout history, peace was brought with death.
He doesn't want to go.
Not yet, not yet—so this is his punishment: Failure. Had he succeeded, he would have died with a touch of relief, for his brethren would have ceased their battle. But now—Glalda, dead—Gavner, dead—Arra, dead—Cyrus, dead. Dead and burned. And Darren—he is a child, still; he will stay and watch the clan perish, and suffer.
If anything, he regrets that. He gazes sorrowfully upward, only to see a blindfold. The ceiling. That is his last glimpse of life. The faces swim into view, then flicker and vanish. There is no one.
So many dead. And for nothing.
The emptiness screams at him, and screams at him more as he drops.
Agony. Sorrow. Pain, so much pain—but he lives, still; blinded with light, he is lifted, screaming, then released. The stakes are sharp, so sharp, and yet he lives; but yes, it is death that is shrieking at him, painfully, numbingly, and he might be crying, but he does not know for sure, because he is burning everywhere, and his mind cries in life, because he knows, that this agony is a blessing—
Once more the cage drops, and he screams once more before dying.
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PT: Well...I was thinking about this for a while—"The ends justify the means." And, well, recently I've reread Kurda's parts in Darren Shan—couldn't find Lake of Souls, though, sadly—and...well. What with the manga out now, and all...-sobs- Well!—I'm reminded forcibly of why the hell of love the series, and why I love Kurda to little tiny bits. And suddenly this came out.