Once he had wilted, the world wilted with him.
From his ashes rose a phoenix, a phoenix of unchained rage that which who he had loved would become.
And the world would be scorched in a dark cloud of anger that wrought a destruction nothing and no one could ever have achieved. A destruction felt even by the gods held up to, prayed to for salvation from the annihilation.
Some say he knew his fate, that perhaps he had achieved a sixth sense that had leapt beyond the perception of everyone else. That he achieved a foresight those around him had never achieved. Perhaps, they sought not to see, perhaps they failed. But he saw, and he knew death was approaching fast.
So to many, it remained a mystery as to how he smiled in the face of the devil, how he glimmered in the wake of darkness, in the maw of what preyed on and hated him.
And maybe, it should remain a mystery for times to come.
This is a story of the catalyst of the Association, Kit Brooks.
