Kain belongs to Crystal Dynamics....I have no idea what Twilight belongs to. Presumably Stephanie Meyer.


He sacrificed all, his life, his soul, his humanity. He brought a demon older than time to it's knees, drew corruption out of the heart of this world, then called Nosgoth. He may have never been a champion of good, he was never a knight in shining armor, a just and chivalrous hero. In life he was selfish, and vain, and often cruel. He was a vampire, a dead body animated by a soul called forth from it's final resting place. Blood fueled his dark powers, and his spells ripped the souls of his enemies from their bodies, casting them into the gnashing jaws of oblivion. Kain was never a hero of the old tales, he never rescued any damsels or killed any dragons. But after over a year of battling nightmares beyond any mortal's ability to fathom. After drinking the blood of men and women and children alike. After watching his humanity slip and slide into hell with every life he took, he battled a demon. Hash'ak'gik, The Unspoken.

It's body was that of shadow, no blade or claw could gain purchase against it, to do the demon harm. It's iron claws could rend metal and shred the very souls of men, so that it may devour their immortal spirit before crushing their bodies beneath cloven hooves of blackest obsidian. It's eyes were red windows to the very belly of it's hellfire soul, for a man to look into them was to invite madness. The Unspoken had corrupted the Pillars of Nosgoth, ancient artifacts that rose high into the heavens and deep into the ground, and so had infected the land with madness and evil. Kain was never a hero, but Hash'ak'gik had visited ruination upon both him and his homeland, twisted both into bitter parodies of what they had once been. And so he took up his ancient blade, Soul Reaver, and challenged this unspeakable nightmare, this Devil of the Pit. For centuries, men and vampire alike had come up against this demon, but they had all failed. Kain succeeded.

The final blow of struck at midnight, Kain's soul eating blade pierced the shadow's heart, and The Unspoken screamed in torment as his essence was drawn up and devoured by the Soul Reaver. It was finished, Kain's quest to restore Nosgoth and himself was complete, and he could at last be free of the curse of vampirism, as Nosgoth was free of the Curse of Hash'ak'gik. How many hours had he spent skulking in his own Mausoleum? Slinking in the shadows, living in the wild as an animal lusting for human blood? No more, surely this was it. Surely his efforts would be rewarded, or at least, acknowledged?

No. He was asked for yet another sacrifice. The last one, in fact. In order to close the circle, to restore balance he had to give his own life. He had to die, so that Nosgoth could live. He, Kain of Corhagen, Slayer of Hash'ak'gik, The Unspoken. He, who had suffered a year of nightmares, had seen things that would drive lesser men mad, he who had done the unthinkable, killed the unkillable, he who had once commanded armies as a living man and in undeath could command the demons of the night was asked to give up his life, his humanity, and throw away the prize he had earned! He had not seen his wife, his brothers, his father since he had witnessed his own funeral a year before, and yet he was asked to give it all up, throw it all away? Why should he? Why should he pay for other's mistakes? Why should he be the pawn of fate once more? Why?

He accepted the sacrifice without a word of argument.

The last word on his lips was the name of his wife.

Shades cast no shadows.

Kain died as the world's last vampire, for all the others had been slain by the minions of The Unspoken. He died the last hero, because who needed heroes anymore? Evil had been ferreted from the world itself, it's source and master, Hash'ak'gik, destroyed and devoured. Kain's death meant a second chance for the world, it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Kain's two brothers died old men in their beds, his father was murdered by a political rival, and his beloved wife remarried a month after his death. His wealth, his estate, and even his then unborn sons went to a young Baron. A man who was not as great as he, but still good enough.

Time trudged on. One of his sons died in a war, the other of brain fever, neither had any children of their own. Kain's mortal bloodline was severed. When his wife died, so did his memory, for she had never confided in anyone, not even The Baron, that her twin sons belonged to another man, for not even she was completely sure. No one knew the name of Kain, no one knew of his trails and sacrifices, no one knew that they only lived because he had decided to die.

The Pillars of Nosgoth fell anyway, of their own accord. And a stinking, sparkling, slimy thing crawled out some pit in some primordial jungle and decided that it was a vampire. It multiplied and mutated and changed. Whether or not they could have been considered kin to Kain and his kind is a matter of debate, but they never learned the name of Kain. Nor did they learn of Vorader, a great vampire in his time. Or the mighty Janos Audron, a pure blood vampire who had never even been human, but had always been a creature of the night. No, nor would they have cared, arrogant creatures, these self-proclaimed vampires. Humanity forgot about the pillars, about Hash'ak'gik, and vampires were demoted to laughable pop-culture icons, while sparkly blood drinking bricks crept in the night, full of hubris and mad for blood. The world slid further into corruption, but this time it was corruption of it's own making. Kain's sacrifice has been squandered, his gift has been spat upon.

Thousands of years had passed since that night at The Pillars. Since The Unspoken howled in defeat, since Kain died on his own sword. The world had been granted a second chance, only for it to be wasted.

Kain rises again, this time in a small Town called Forks, Washington.

He will not like what he finds.


Anyone who's ever wanted to see Kain melt a Sparklepire into a puddle of toxic slime, this fic is dedicated to you guys.