Scion

Noble? Or humble? 

It was me, who was chosen to control the massive mysterious power from darkness. I have been chained up long. But the physical cage will no longer confine me. My talent will break though it and flicker, brilliantly.

I know what they treat me. A young aristocrat, with enviable family but also a pre-adorned puppet, a product for sale. People look at me, fawningly, and prise my appearance, my dress, my hairstyle. I know how they pock fun at me. The voice deep in my heart bellow loudly, to show the fatuous person your brave,your strength and your intelligence. 

Blood is the congratulatory flame, dazzling and pleasant. Finally, I cut off the strings, in the eve of wedding day. The eve will become the big day instead of the next day. My dream realized. The smell of blood is so fragrant. It is the freedom that breeze the fresh air. My dress, white before but now scarlet, is my best tabard. The upcoming wedding in Fei o Pulos has no start. 

Life would not be worse. I have uncover the mask of Noble. Their reckless laugh seems to remind me my disappearing glory——They regard it a glory, but actually a hypocritical presentation, for me. The next exile to Wraeclast, which they frighten to mention it, as the place of death, but I call it a jamboree, is the bed of my rebirth.

Here comes my friends, different from my former peers who keep up with the Joneses all the day. The distingue soul point a way to the marvelous achievement, in the name of light. Also, a despicable horde teach me how to prolong my last gasp in the deep dark world. Sparks surround the fingers of the witch, dazzling as stars glimmer. In my eyes, they have no differences. We all live in miserable land and pursue incessant illumination. We all keep a decayed body in search for  almighty freer of the soul.

Unrecognizable.

Clearer mind, faster learner, deeper dream. I am invincible. 

Malachai, you will pay for it.