[ShiroKirishiki]

Flames rise from burning canvases.

Woes and sorrow met fire and brimstone.

Carved and bled from carcasses,

as wood turns to ash and steel groans.

---

Pain is such a strange thing.
I've long since forgotten its bite.
The scars of my past mark my skin like ghostly brushstrokes on a canvas.
Each one whispers to me, a memory given form.
Some are louder than others.
Some.. are deafening.

Silence is so loud.. why is it so loud?

I am facsimile.
I am hollow.
I am an empty vessel.

I am an echo.. a message without a voice.

I removed so much of myself, carved it free willingly so that She could be free.
I wanted to be appreciated. To be loved.
My other half never treads outside her sanctuary.
My family is nothing more than whispering memento.
Even as I am surrounded by the faithful, I find myself ever alone.

It is a strange feeling, this pain.
A phantom sting that defies my command.
Incessant. Bitter. Black.
I rewrite meaning in my own flesh,
distorting the message so that it does not bother me..

So then why is it that my heart still hurts?

I do not know what it is, this feeling that festers like a plague.
It defies me, pressing like needles into my skin.
It burns, yet is cold. It pierces, yet is dull.
Every time She calls another 'son', grants gifts for so little effort while I bleed myself dry..

What is it She sees in him? Why him? What has he done to be seen so easily?

Perhaps it is passing fancy.. unless?

I built a city as a shrine to Her.
I held hands with my brother for the last time, for Her.
I have shattered my soul, lost my voice, become naught but a doll made to please Her.
I owe Her so much. I am grateful beyond words. My heart aches to think someone like She would suffer such a fate

And yet... no matter what I have done, I have failed far more than I have succeeded.

Too much black has blotted out the white. The image is blurred. Uncanny.

A crack in a divine cage, faux divinity's ichor on my claws..

Perhaps, I should have considered things more deeply. Not have been as trusting.

Katsuya, Sable, Qiu, Apollone, Aqualyn, Kalmak..

So many more. So many faces that blur into the same.

Where is their monument? Where is their shrine? Where is the grief for their departure?

None here but ash and echo...

It rests in Delphina, collared and docile.
Tranquil and safe.
Protected in its own gilded cage of kindness and mercy.

And now, the shrine I built, the symbol of our devotion, was reduced to a festering pile of corruption.
Blackened hands beget blackened hands.
Yet, I could not stomach the death of innocents in Her name. Within Her hall.
There is no joy in a meaningless death. Destruction for the sake of destruction is barbaric.

Senseless.
Vile.
Monstrous.

But, at my core, am I truly any different?
I have known for a long time, that I am different.
I do not fit the mold the righteous and the just have made.
My Art is a compulsion. My Art is what gives me life.
Everything else is dull and monochrome.
What else could I be, but a monster?

What is wrong with that? It isn't something I can change.

Only a monster could do what I've done and be proud of it.
Only a monster could have—
No... I'm not looking at it properly, am I?
It isn't about me, is it?

All for Her freedom.
Walk with grace.
Bask in the Silence Before.
The Silence Between.
The Silence After.

I will do what I must to see Her free.
To right a wrong on a divine scale.
Once it is done, I will remain in the shadows.
The darkness always welcomed me far more than the light.
The moon always looks prettiest against the endless night.
That's enough for me.

...It has to be.