Prologue

“Each step forward feels like a betrayal of who I once was; yet I cannot stop walking.”

Blood drowns the barren soil beneath naked nights, where the moon shifts its color and size every first of the month.

Demons fly across the horizon, veiling a golden moon like Saturn’s rings. The moon’s craters—one as large as the moon of old—pierce through me with those hollowed eyes.

I stand atop a cliff and summon my sanguine sword, which undulates with my heartbeat, like waves through wheat at dawn.

My veins burn Red, my enemies’ grow cold. Sacred, they claim to be—Gods even; a lie … so am I, wearing the body not given by my birthmother: sandy hair; eyes azure like the never-changing sun; and even as it is disparate, it resembles who I always was.

My grip firms around the sword’s handle, and my feet shatter stones loose. The abyss below devours all blood, whether fallen or still standing.

Beyond the horizon, battling the army in black, legions of Seraph cast pulsating light. My eyes twitch, yet I linger in the strobing scene, for the shifting moon breaks through it, its edges bleeding into the starless night.

The soil below—a black sea of endless colors—glistens with gold; each color is its own salvation. Some live longer; some grow stronger, but ultimately, they all die—even Gods.

I lampoon the hope of people who believe that we can sleep under the same moon.

Equality is a fairy tale for children; the strong take, and the weak kneel—both just pretend it means something.

On the horizon, all light dies; once vast and luminous with gold, the moon darkens completely—an Eclipse slicing through the night; then it burns Red.

“I’m sorry,” guilt gnaws at me.

He should be four years younger than I am now … my hands tremble … but he isn’t … the moon gushes further… I killed him.

My grip tightens again, and a battle cry shatters the silence—perhaps an echo of my own.

“But don’t worry. Soon—I’ll be with you.”

And as the moon shrinks, setting the sky afire, I remember counting planets with my brother—Mars, his favourite.

It was a lie … yet I cling to it.

“My dear little brother,” I smile ruefully as a lost child of a tear finds its way down my cheek. “Just …”

The wind howls, and the ground beneath me cracks; blood shakes through flesh; I embrace the burning light—the Red Eclipse.

“… just wait a little longer.”

And I jump.

Into blood.

Into death.

Into hell.