The Forgotten Archive - 4. Black Prince

The judgement of equals, a fate to behold all,

for the shattered afterlives from east to west.

Both the bold and the craven await this fate,

Like scattered souls lost to space.

But one, a Bright Soul,

One whose heart laid in light.

His love for his alluring Spark,

Forever changing his life's ark.

They danced, and drank, adorned in white.

Peers basking in the Bright Ones smile,

and his sparks beauty.

Until the departure, a sooty evil would see.

Lust took the shadows heart, jealous of the Sparks light.

Assurance of election to The Deep.

It would come after suns and moons, his need grows,

It would creep into the Bright couples lives.

A spark without light, his spark suffered alone.

Behind the cloak of night, the evil would strike.

“Don’t! No!” the Spark fought to become flame,

The heartless rite would overcome.

Extinguish the flame! Beat the embers!

The glow faded, the deed done.

The Spark had died.

To meet the Bright One one final time.

As the rain cascaded over the onyx tomb,

The Bright One toiled.

His anger would boil,

And succumb to the doom that had stained him.

Betrayed you were, by the jealousy of your own kin.

“How do I know?” the Bright Ones skin raised.

Only one to know, who else?

His lonely heart fell, as did his knees.

One hand on the black, he prayed over his fallen.

“Behold this word spoken from my lips.”

“This world is guilty, rest assured it is.”

It is!

“Mark my words as iron.”

The fire held by your own andiron.

“In exchange for my absolute revenge,”

The route to justice, I shall pave.

“I’ll grant you any wish spoken from your tongues.”

Chant the hymn, let it be known

“Make everything I see, fall down to meet me.”

Destroy them all, let their walls fall, and hear the call!

A hand met the Gray One, one of red.

If what you said holds true, open your soul to me, rise as my Black Prince!

“If only you knew my pain, my anger, my hate!”

The hole you dig is yours, but your faded spark rests there nonetheless.

He opened his soul, the coiling snakes envelope.

To cope with his loss, the brightness gone, innocence lost.

It would be mere hours after, a strip laid with decadence

Neon, and skin glistening against pale moonlight.

His kin would meet him for drink,

The end of his brother nigh, no good to the world.

“I’m sorry for you brother,” the falsehood would be too much,

For the Black Prince, his thirst for murder would take it’s toll.

Later at the Kin's lair, he would strike,

A mere knife in the back, to bring the evil down.

“You sent them to their final gown!” the symphony of screaming,

Mere music to the Black Prince.

He stole the victims seat, thinking over the atrocity.

“What have I done?” he would mutter, the crimson fading from his eyes.

Justice, what you had sought.

“Not yet.”

He looked at his kinslayer,

Coated in blood he saw himself in the red reflection.

No prayer would save him, he assured himself.

A flood of sorrow washed over him.

One last glance at the lifeless man,

Red and Blue filling the room with light,

One chance to make amends.

He would pass his own blight on.