Where Angels Cry

Where Angels Cry is a part of Tales of Arkain.

## Synopsis

Saint Loraine was captured by Lady Meya's agents/Sir Ross, and Rahandir Drakeskull examines the prisoner.

## Story

The room was filled with darkness. It was cold, some parts of the walls seemed to even be covered in ice but it was impossible to see. And still, there was more than just darkness. There was evil. Corruption. Death. No good could ever come from this place for it was as if it was made to create evil. There were shelves filled with tools that could only exist to cause pain and suffering. In the center of the room, surrounded by darkness, torture tools and cold, was a table. On that table lay a figure. She was bound to the table, she could not move. Her eyes were closed and she whispered the texts that she had learned during her training. She concentrated entirely on her litany, not paying any attention to what was happening around her. "...and his radience will protect me. The faithful will be protected. In our hearts, his divine light shines. Death is a part of life and those who die in his service shall be reborn to sit by his side when the time is right. Pain is an illusion. There is no agony for those who have done him no wrong. My heart knows nothing but peace."

"Is that what they teach you at your priest school in Rodan? Do you believe this nonsense?" a voice said in the darkness. She was no longer alone. A dark figure was levitating towards her. She could hear it but she did not open her eyes or allow herself to be interrupted, even as she could also hear hissing that sounded as if the being it came from had no tongue. "I am but a tool. I am the extension of his will. In my service, I find solace and true happiness." "I would assume so. You Imperial religious fanatics do like to turn your subjects into obedient servitors. No wonder your high lord considered you a valuable tool. You were nothing but his personal slave. A pitiful creature in the service of powers beyond her understanding. Blind and fanatic. Like the rest of your idiotic Golden Guard." the dark voice mocked her. She opened her eyes. The room was still dark, but now there were sources of dim light on the walls. Blue flames flickered from the old and rotting torches. She could see the figure. No, not figure. It was more of a monster than an actual figure. It was a lich. And not just any lich. Rahandir Drakeskull, once a hero of Rengar and now... a corrupted undead being. But... there was no evil coming from him. She was confused. How could he, a being of death, not radiate the very evil that kept him alive? This was not what she had expected. "You may take my life, but you will not break me. Your magic is useless, you cannot bind the life of an Angelic to your cause. My life belongs to my high lord, my soul belongs to my god." she explained. The reply was a chuckle. It sounded... dry and dark and... strange. "Your god? Oh, naive child. I'd say that I pity your ignorance, but let's be honest, if I actually pitied you, it would be much more merciful to just kill you and be done with it because you know and understand so little. Simple-minded, you just believe what you are told and follow orders. You, a self-appointed servant of light, do not see the darkness on which your faith is founded." Rahandir replied. His face appeared directly in front of her. No, not a face. It was a skull. There was no flesh remaining. His eyes seemed to pierce through her eyes but she withstood his gaze. He grabbed her chin and pressed her cheeks together.

"Your god is dead, girl. He died long before you or I were born. The gods waged war upon each other, they blamed their own failure on each other. Your god DIED, just like the others. When you die, your soul is lost to the void of the afterlife. There is no one to save you, no one to protect you." he said. His words were vile and twisted. And still. His voice. There was no evil, no curelty, no ill-will. It was cold, it was heartless but she felt that there was a faint sadness hiding behind it. Bitterness. Resignation. Arrogance. But no deceit. He really believed what he said. "Tell me, Lord Rahandir Drakeskull, is it this knowledge that made you into what you are now? A bitter, arrogant and insulting being? Is it desperation that drove you up to this point?" she asked.

Rahandir intensified his gaze as he studied the face of his prisoner. An angelic called 'Saint' Loraine. The fools of the Golden Guard apparently believed that the ability to cast higher forms of light magic made you a "saint". Naive children. They had no idea that their prayers remained unheard. Krom and Meya had captured her in Salria and Aridon had ordered Rahandir to study her. The zealots of the Golden Guard considered them sacred and were defending them fanatically. Like any religious person would defend their idol. But these 'angelics' were human. They were modified by their little ritual, but they were still human. Priestesses of the Golden Guard, no more. "Interesting. I did not expect to find yet another Imperial who knew my name. Then again, I assume the mortals I have spared after confronting them, may have lived to tell the tale. But what do you know about me apart from the fact that I am undead now?" he asked. She kept returning his gaze, showing no weakness. It was... refreshing. Rahandir had already thought she'd be crying in fear and wouldn't stop sobbing when he'd seek her out. It was better for his nerves to have a prisoner who could actually talk in full sentences - which was also something not all Imperial fools were capable of.

"When I was a little child, my grandmother told me the tragic tale of a legendary demonhunter. It was the same story her grandmother had told her." she said. Rahandir let go of her chin. "That still does not explain how an Imperial would know of this story. Tell me more, child." he demanded. "My mother hails from Rengar. She married an Imperial and, after my grandfather died, they and my grandmother sailed to the Empire before I was born. My grandmother told me stories whenever she'd bring me to bed. Fairy tales, mostly. But there was also this one story. She told me to keep it to myself and only tell to my children and grandchildren, as she, her mother and her grandmother had done. It was a story that had been forbidden to be told in Rengar. The story of Rahandir Drakeskull, the Defender of Rengar. You defended Rengar from its enemies for many decades. You were kind and good-hearted, filled with mercy and generosity. The people loved you and the loyalty of your followers knew no bounds. You were the greatest hero of Rengar. Until you fell in battle. You fell. You lost, but... your battle was not for naught. My family lived in the village that was close to your battlefield. The Demons would have destroyed it if you had not defeated them. You were outnumbered, you and your men were betrayed. But you kept fighting, knowing that you would fall. You died fighting, killing every single demon because you KNEW that innocents who would not be able to protect themselves would die if you ran. My grandmother told me that the people of the village later burried the dead but they could not find your corpse. Nobody in the nobility wanted to hear about it but the villagers kept the story in their hearts. You were a hero in life. You fell, betrayed and stabbed in the back. You were forgotten but some never forgot your name and deeds. You lost yourself to bitterness but my powers as an angelic tell me that you are no vile being. I did not expect this, but I see this as a sign of my god that there is still good in you." the angelic said.

Rahandir looked at her, not saying a word. His undead companions did not utter a syllable. He looked away from Loraine. He remembered. When he fought the Demons on that day, he had indeed remembered the villages he and his brave men had passed through. He had wanted to protect them. But it had still been for naught. What were his heroic deeds in life compared to the sins and flaws of humanity? "You are a fool, child. A dead god does not give you any signs. The god you believe that you pray to was just as flawed as my king was. Obsessed with his own power. Paranoid. Foolish. Egoistic. Untrustworthy. Just like your Emperor." Rahandir explained. The angelic's face now showed a sign of... pity. She pitied him. His soon-to-be-doomed prisoner showed him pity. Oh the irony. "I pity you, Lord Drakeskull. You were a good man who lost himself to the darkness of desperation. The betrayal has made you bitter and turned your heart to stone. It pains me to see you like this. I always liked the stories that my grandmother told me about you. You were my hero when I was a child. As chosen of the High Lord, he has become my new hero though I have never forgotten what I learned about you. I will pray to my god that you will find your peace one day, no matter what pain you inflict upon me." Loraine declared. This ignorant, stupid, idiotic, simple-minded, naive child! Rahandir looked away and pondered for a moment. Then his gaze returned to her. "Tell me, girl. Are your mother and grandmother still alive?" he asked. She nodded. He turned towards the exit. "If you insist on praying to your dead god, then pray that you never meet them again." A move with his hand and the flames that he had ignited when entering the room before were extinguished. "Lord Rahandir." she said. Rahandir turned around. She still looked in his direction, in his dead eyes. Now there was a single tear in her golden eyes. She must have understood. Or was it still her pity? "I forgive you."