Глава 14

It was never one drop of blood or a single person's call that awakened the Cunabula of Suffering.

Originium is the response to the call of all Sarkaz, living and dead. No exceptions.

...The murmur of the myriad souls is omnipresent.

The lament of the dead will not stop.

The Sarkaz are bound by the past from the moment of their birth, never to be freed, even unto death.

You witnessed the myriad souls the first time you sang an elegy... Laqeramaline proudly described your talent to us.

This talent was the seed of dissent.

You feel pain, not just for others, but for yourself as well. You may detest the path I walk, but you could not help but feel sorrow for me sake.

I feel sorrow for how you're trapped by the past.

Such arrogance... I should try to kill you again.

But instead, I will bless you.

The slaughterer and the slaughtered... they are all part of the cycle.

I am here because of you.

Logos does not smell any blood.

The incantation easily impales the Sanguinarch's body, causing only a few small ripples.

Your blood is still linked to my elegy.

Of course... of course. You stand with me, no matter how much you resist.

We are all sovereigns of the Royal Court, after all... the oldest bloodlines of the Sarkaz.

I should be glad that you could conquer me, for it proves that you are stronger, and more worthy of carrying the fate of the Sarkaz, leading them on your path.

The Sanguinarch of Vampires laughs, turning around and disappearing into the cave.

His silhouette fades away amongst the Originium crystals, but his voice continues to echo in Logos's ear.

Bless you, Aefanyl, my vanquisher.

Assimilate my blood. Utilize my power. Let your hatred of me fuel your battles!

You will walk in my place and witness in my stead how far the flames of Sarkaz vengeance will burn.

I...

Refuse.

Nachzehrer, Vampire, we all hear the same cry.

The fate of the Sarkaz is caught in a cycle, and I am no exception.

I am part of what I'm fighting.

The fury of the Sarkaz burns within my veins and my viscera.

Words turn into fire, descending from the sky to ignite every seed on the earth.

Incantations burn at Logos's fingertips, on his lips, in his chest.

Originium crystals grow furiously around him, and the crying of the dead becomes even louder, ready to accept him and devour him at any time.

He no longer rejects the power in his blood. The Vampire has guided the flames of the Sarkaz to him, and he has embraced the fire.

'The abyss lies before us. We can fill it with flesh, and burn the remnants with blood.'

If the only way to bring new life is to burn away all the decay, then I will be both flame and fuel.

This is where my blood belongs, that I have chosen.

Flames consume the entire canyon.

The only things left are the incantations that the young Banshee has written his entire life, from a very young age.

They surround Logos loyally, his sword and shield.

If war is the only way to achieve the dream, and new life can only emerge from death...

I shall bring death.

I shall welcome death.

I shall ignite my past with blood, not for vengeance—

But for the day when this fire will burn away what shackles the Sarkaz, through the decay that covers the land.

A bone whistle sounds.

Logos knows that it is merely the echo of the bone whistle in the Valley of the Banshees, the night he set out for Babel.

From death comes new life.

The death knell rings.

For the Royal Court that would rot, past and future, and for himself.