Hero and Hate
Heaven was dark that day. Hero rose once more, physically exhausted yet spiritually strong. Every nightmare, every midnight terror, all struck him. Made flesh by his own demons, they cut through his muscle and sinew, making him bleed and tearing him from the inside out. For a fortnight hero wrestled and fell until suddenly, finally, he struck and finished his plunge. Blue eyes veiled by a cloud of inner darkness, dark hair plastered to his forehead, sweat on his brow, hero rose. The world around him spun full circle. He saw his sister... he saw his sister.
"Seven days left Ryson," she smiled.
"I don't want to go," he cried, angry at being reminded.
"You'll come back, everyone does," she pushed the tip of his nose. He squirmed away and crossed his arms.
"I'm not going."
"We all need to go Ry," she smiled again. Smiled the sweet smile of her mother, and felt almost like one.
"Testing only takes a few days..."
A few days. He remembered. His testing went on for months. So long that the doctors insisted the general bring hero's sister to him. The feared that he might die.
"Please take me away from here," a tear rolled down his cheek. She wiped it away, and held his covered cheek in her hand. The skin had been pulled away from his other cheek, revealing the muscle and bone beneath. Others could not look upon him. She found it difficult, but her love overcame, she was the only one.
"They say it will only be a little longer Ryson," She wrapped her arms around his frail body and hugged him close. "Once you're better we'll take you home. We'll eat sandwiches and watch the rabbits play."
"You promise?" His tears subsided for a moment.
"Of course I do."
The doctors had other ideas. Ryson, patient number 666, was the younger brother of that girl. Her name was Morou. And she would be the next one subjected to the tests. He was greedy, he knew that if the brother had it, the sister would as well. Hate general wanted it harvested, he wanted it for his own. Ten years of testing on both of them, yet the source could not be found.
"Morou!" He cried. The doctor held him back from his sister. Ryson bit his hand until it bled and he let the youth go. He ran down the hall to meet his sister. She was dead. Ryson threw himself onto the bed. Blood stained her sheets. How could they have tried? She was not the same as he. She never could be. She was not his blood sister.
Now hero stood before her. She had been recreated with his own blood; Recreated by the hate general who had destroyed their lives. She drove nails through his hands and feet; bolted him to the ground. All under the orders of the hate general. He was afraid of hero. The hate general was terrified, something not easily done, and swiftly dealt with. With the power of his machine, the girl, and the boy's blood... he had taken hold of the world. Taken hold of all but one...
"This is loathsome, what you have done, hate, she is my sister!" His words came clearly through the pain.
"I don't know that you fully understand. You would have let her die. You would have left her to rot in a forsaken hole in the ground," he laughed. "In order to have a sister you must also have a mother and father. You don't have either. You were created by the same engineering which allowed me to bring Morou back. Did you ever really love her hero?"
"To deny a soul it's eternal rest is a gross perversion of nature," he uttered the last syllables through his teeth. He raised up his hands, through the nails, tearing his flesh further but all the while keeping his eyes on hate. In one blow he took Morou's pointed metallic arm and drove it through her chest. She uttered no scream, and her black eyes showed no pain. Hero held her in his arms, on the brink of tears but never allowing one to slip. Her body went limp as her blood flowed down hero's forearm and dripped off his elbow.
"What have you done?" Hate roared. "You've killed her! Murderer! Demon!"
"Perhaps I am a demon," hero whispered as the holes in his hands and feet healed. "If that is what I must be to set my sister's soul to peace," he turned his back slowly towards the hate general. "Then that is what I choose to be." He was not afraid.
"Then you leave me no other option but to right my terrible mistake," the general took his own dagger and stabbed hero's back. He withdrew the knife, sensing no reaction from hero. He plunged the blade deeper the second time, cutting through his muscle, yet hero did not flinch. Enraged and frenzied the hate general stabbed him again, seven more times, spraying himself with blood, until he was exhausted.
Hero's hollow laugh filled the empty room. Rubble lay around him. He'd destroyed the entire building trying to get to his sister. Everyone had died save himself and hate.
"I shall not bear your soul to peace," were the last words hate heard as hero pulled the dagger from his own back and plunged it deep into hate's heart of stone. He fell onto the body of hero's twice dead sister.
From the stab wounds in his back hero's broad wingspan grew. Thick, dark wings of skin and hollow bone unfolded from his shoulder blades. He was lifted into the sky, a hero to his sister, condemned to live eternity as a demon.