III. "Never See The Sun" for Muse Shuffle
Judgment, A Story in Six Scenes
I. II. III. IV. V. VI.
You hear the door slam and realize there’s nowhere left to run // You feel the cold hand and wonder if you’ll ever see the sun
He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused in pain. Pain is the wrong word, agony is not complete enough, it goes beyond despair to something that is supposed to be reserved for the souls that will never leave Hell. He could remember heat and light as a distant dream, the thought of being burned alive a whisper of heaven in this cold dark place. But as her cold hand was on him again he knew she would never give him so kind a release. He would pay and pay and pay again until she was satisfied. Until she knew everything she needed to. Then he would be given the death he craved even more than the sun he would never see again.
There had been a time when he had had faith, when he had truly believed it was the duty of mankind to eliminate the other magic bearing sentient species. He had been doing god’s work. That had been before Mab had made herself his entire world, so frigid and beautiful, demanding that he tell her everything, devote himself to her entirely. In the end she was his religion, his love, his hate. He spoke words he had been trained and bespelled never to speak. Anything to satisfy her endless empty silences.
When he was done she smiled, an act that was the most beautiful thing he had seen in this shadowed place. In his heart he heard the smile speak the words that those had trained him said his god would tell him after he died if he martyred himself in his final action. Well done, my good and faithful servant, enter in to the next life. In his joy at her gift, he never felt the ice that ushered him to the next world.
I. II. III. IV. V. VI.
You hear the door slam and realize there’s nowhere left to run // You feel the cold hand and wonder if you’ll ever see the sun
He stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused in pain. Pain is the wrong word, agony is not complete enough, it goes beyond despair to something that is supposed to be reserved for the souls that will never leave Hell. He could remember heat and light as a distant dream, the thought of being burned alive a whisper of heaven in this cold dark place. But as her cold hand was on him again he knew she would never give him so kind a release. He would pay and pay and pay again until she was satisfied. Until she knew everything she needed to. Then he would be given the death he craved even more than the sun he would never see again.
There had been a time when he had had faith, when he had truly believed it was the duty of mankind to eliminate the other magic bearing sentient species. He had been doing god’s work. That had been before Mab had made herself his entire world, so frigid and beautiful, demanding that he tell her everything, devote himself to her entirely. In the end she was his religion, his love, his hate. He spoke words he had been trained and bespelled never to speak. Anything to satisfy her endless empty silences.
When he was done she smiled, an act that was the most beautiful thing he had seen in this shadowed place. In his heart he heard the smile speak the words that those had trained him said his god would tell him after he died if he martyred himself in his final action. Well done, my good and faithful servant, enter in to the next life. In his joy at her gift, he never felt the ice that ushered him to the next world.