Too Late

    Should he be happy? Could he, in this moment? Or was the bitter pain of loss too great to allow any pleasure? Was there any point in being thankful for something he didn’t know he had when he had it, now; now, that it was far beyond his reach, drowned, part of a fate he’d never taste?

    He’d come to Vycean to be free. Free, from everything. In control, at last, of himself. To be a man in his own right.

    How could he have guessed? Or known? That when he’d been reduced to nothing, absolutely nothing, stripped naked of freedom, and hope, and wealth, he’d find what he had truly starved for in the heart of his soul?

    It was cruel.

    Maybe there was some grim solace in his slaughter.

___________

I PROMISED I'D STOP PAINTING CAIN BUT I HAVE NO SELF DISCIPLINE
SOMEONE HELP 

 

Cain, from Tales of the Fatherless, taking what very well might be his last trip into the Temple. 

More Cain Spam: