This is my second fan-fic for the Legacy of Kain Fanfiction Challenge and answers the following challenge:

Fic 2: Sr/2 Kain seriously questions what he's attempting

Must Include: Raziel, isolation/loneliness

No Mention of:...

Fic contains no spoilers for Defiance. (Spoilered games: SR/SR2)

The Long and Lonely Night Before Dawn.

"The sands of time for me are running low"

- Hallowed Be Thy Name

The wind picked up stray silver strands of his hair and lifted them across his shoulders to float gently at his side. The heavy red velvet of his cloak swung slowly around his thighs like an animal slinking at the legs of its master as he stood still and silent in the night.

The darkness was alive with the sounds of those creatures that called the shadows their home. He could hear life all around him, in the forest, in the grass, in the very earth itself. So much vibrancy. It made his stomach clench to think of it all and the fate that awaited it.

It was cold here in this place, and yet he felt the sensation only on some detached level. There was no longer any need to fear the night or its elements and there had not been for many years. Millennia even. The thought brought a bitter smile to his lips.

The moon was bright on this night and its light caused the shadows of the pillars to stretch out like the grasping fingers of some great hand reaching up from the earth to ensnare him. He shook his head slowly, the vision was only too true. These ancient constructs had enslaved him as surely as had he thrown his life away for their sake. Either way, dead or alive, he was bound to them.

Glimmering fireflies, their luminescent bodies like tiny foxfire stars floated aimlessly in the air currents. He reached out and carefully imprisoned one with his hand. Its eldritch light shone out from the cage his claws made and he lifted it up to eyelevel to peer at its glowing form. It sat flexing its wings, stick legs prodding at the hard surface of his claws in puzzlement at its new predicament. He supposed they were alike, he and the tiny firefly, both bound by the wheel of fate, both imprisoned against their wills and both too unaware to immediately realise it.

"We are alike, you and I."

The sound of his own voice surprised him, he felt it had been an age since he had last spoken aloud. Too long since he had conversed with one capable of sharing the great burden that he shouldered, and how he longed for just a brief moment of understanding. One spark of recognition for the magnitude of the task he sought to undertake, one soul to sympathise with his plight.

Kain snorted softly at his own thoughts, and with an upward flick of his palm, released the firefly to rejoin its brethren. He watched it bumble its way upwards in a lazy spiral before it located the swarm of other insects and inserted itself back into their slow circling dance.

And was it not all one great dance that every soul was ensnared in? Bound to follow the rhythm being drummed out by the universe itself, like a great slow heartbeat pulsing in the darkness of infinity. He closed his eyes slowly, trying to clear the thought from his mind before it could take hold of him. There was a desperate, draining sense of futility attached to the idea and it made him feel cold of soul and so completely and utterly alone.

It was times like this, as he stood awaiting the next step in the dance, for his partner to match his rhythm again, that the despair crept quietly in. It was all too easy at times like this to allow the very magnitude of the task he had embarked upon to rise up like a great black wall and block his any hopeful imaginings of success. Gently he massaged his forehead with his claws, smoothing out the scowl imprinted there by years of strain and a slow inexorable creeping exhaustion. One day this would all be over.

But will you be the victor? whispered a small treacherous voice in the recesses of his mind. There was so much at stake here, it was truly overwhelming even for one such as himself.

He took a step forward, and then another, moving slowly towards the pillar looming out of the darkness before him, an ancient sentinel soon to be broken. He stopped a pace away from its base and reaching out ran his palm lightly over its surface. The marble was cold and smooth and he was strangely disappointed to feel nothing more. He supposed that the magic lay elsewhere. Or perhaps he was as dead to it now as it was to him.

His chain, his leash, the stake driven deep into the ground tethering him to its hold like some animal set out to graze unable to move beyond the length of its rope. He placed his palm flat against the pale surface and leant his weight against the immoveable stone. Letting his head drop, his mane of silver hair falling in its loose pony tail down across his shoulder, his gaze wandered aimlessly across the runes inscribed on the stone platform beneath his feet.

Had they known, had they ever guessed what would come to pass as they set these stones into place? Had the workers who had chiselled the delicate carvings into the marble thought of the dread possibility of one such as he, of what would happen should their creation fall to ruin? But of course they had, and yet still they had dared to hope.

Ah, hope. Something he had enjoyed less and less of as the years continued to pass. Hope had faded to nothing but a dogged determination to continue on. It was as if he knew of nothing else save this eternal struggle, this refusal to simply lie down and die. Sometimes he felt that he had lost his way, that life had no other goal than to maintain the struggle and that ultimately there was nothing but the great effort of resistance.

God, but life could be hard sometimes.

And then, as the wind whispered in the leaves of the surrounding forest and lifted his hair across his vision, he thought of Raziel. Kain sighed. In truth, his thoughts were never far from his eldest son. How could it possibly be any other way? His eyes traced the loop of a sigil, its length curving back on itself endlessly, the sign of infinity. His eyes narrowed. Was this the fate that awaited them? To break the endless cycle of fruitless manoeuvring, the game of cat and mouse with its immoveable doom, would be a feat worthy of a god and not a mortal whose own fate had betrayed him.

Once, Kain had considered himself a God. Had even spoken such words to Raziel, hot words full of righteous passion. And how ironic now that passion seemed when placed parallel to the ideals of the holies of this land, the Sarafan and their fanatical ilk. Yes, it was ironic how blinded by one's own cause one could become. How enamoured of one's own cleverness.

Pathetic really.

The sky was paling, an almost imperceptible greying of the horizon that heralded the approach of dawn. He would be here soon. It was imperative that he understand, that he listen, truly listen. The boy was so rash, so full of hatred and fury. Kain supposed that he had earned the right. After all, he knew nothing of the fate that awaited him and as yet had no reason to suspect the true magnitude of his future actions. Nosgoth's fate, his fate and the fate of all souls rested squarely on those withered shoulders. He must be made to understand. There was no other choice. No other option. There could be no other way.

Straightening up, Kain raised his head and turned his face to the dawn. If he were to be the god that he had proclaimed himself time and time again, then he would have to show the resolve befitting such a creature. Thin lips twisted into a sardonic smile. The cause was not yet lost, not by a long way. There were still many players in this great game, some old hands and some yet to be revealed. The smile widened into a ferocious grin. Out there in the awakening land, the dance was about to begin a new movement.

-

Author's note: Kain is so hard to write. o.O

I was listening to Hallowed Be Thy Name, the Cradle of Filth cover when I wrote the end for this - I think it fits Kain really rather well)