A foreglow immersed the heavens above while an ocean of wan, ashen grey clouds spread across the distant horizon, surrounding mountain peaks, only just able to break through the clouds' rippling waves. Sheaves of lightning illuminated the swirling vortex at the sea's heart, snaking across the mortal heavens with lurid violet sparks briefly coloring foggy mist. Atop the tallest mountain peak, a lone figure sat cross-legged with a weathered blade laid across his lap while he watched the lightning intensify its ruinous dance as if attempting to amuse him. Alas, no smile graced his blood-speckled lips that the bitter, cutting winds had cracked. Numbness had long since found its home in his knuckle's hollow crevices, and his hands refused to unfurl from the sword's dented hilt, even to rejoice for the destruction he bade.

For amidst rumbling thunder and sharp crackling lightning were scores of souls pleading to Heaven for his death. He contemplated their wishes with vague sincerity, impressed by the purest heart's ability to wish him the most gruesome end. Truthfully, he could not fault them when they called him the Harbinger of Calamity, nor did he hold any concern toward their malice. 

He felt nothing because to feel something, one must care for what was committed.

So, as the mortal beseeched the divine to end their suffering, he who bestrode the line between Heaven and hell patiently waited for his enemy's arrival — be it from above or below. Nevertheless, even his patience had its limit. He blithely pondered how long it would take for someone to reach him. 

Surely, he thought, they will not stand idly by.

As the cacophony of noise from the surface dulled, memories surrounded him, carried upon blustery gales slicing through threadbare robes. Every time he stayed his tongue and bowed his head in submission, it was with the hope that the karma accumulated would grant his dearest ones a lifetime of happiness. Though they would never meet again in this life, perhaps another awaited them in a far kinder world, where their sacrifices would finally be rewarded. 

Ruthlessness is mercy.

For a moment, he mused upon those words. He could still hear his father's deep, soothing voice, and what fault he found in his father's absolutes drowned in the knowledge he kept to his heart for years to come. Once he refused to stay his hand, troublesome obstacles disappeared from his path, just as his father said they would. And yet, as the wind combed through his hair, whipping it back from his ice-cold skin - he could almost imagine it was his mother's hand as she stroked his hair. 

"Vengeance begets vengeance," she once said. However, there would be no one to take vengeance if all opposed were dead. Those two tenets governed his ascension to the mountainous summit, where he waited and listened to the mourners beg for mercy and the grieving cry for vengeance. Embittered, he wondered if the heavens heard his prayers to protect his loved ones and chose to ignore them, cruelly watching as their sacrifices amounted to nothing.

"It won't be long now," he whispered, lifting his dull eyes skyward with a slight tip of the head. "So, will you come to me, or shall I come to you?"

Lightning roiled beneath the cloud sea's stormy surface before a streaking pillar of light tore through the maelstrom's eye. A rush of wind blew sand and stone past him, but he never once pulled his eyes away from the heavens, even when a shadow arced across the sky, landing somewhere behind him with a resounding boom. Glass shards, newly formed from the shattered, melting earth, shot out from the point of impact, tumbling over the peak's craggy face. One strayed close enough to graze his cheek, simultaneously slicing cleanly through flesh and cauterizing the open wound with scalding heat. Slowly, he blinked away his stupor and lowered his head to stare down at the still-sparking crusts of glass encircling him; the translucent barrier shuddered like an open flame cowering before a mighty storm, splintering glass fragments scorched black by lightning pulsated where they sank into the supports, dangerously close to piercing his back. 

"I see," he murmured as he nudged his senses outward, and the barrier began to tremble, forcing the fragments out.  With another prod, the shards fell in a cascade behind him, tinkling softly as he said, "I suppose it was foolish to think the Messengers would descend from their Pillars, even to answer the common people's cries."

He could not say whether he was relieved that the world stayed true to the unfair principles he'd always known or disappointed that it would be this way for all time. 

"Is that why you did this, Sonam?" He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief second, willing his swooping stomach and thudding heart to quiet long enough to hear the aggrieved whisper, "To anger the heavens?"

At that, he barked a laugh, "Hardly," then drew in a sobering breath as his final wish slipped through his fingers. "Although, to see them kneel at my feet would be amusing."

An inferno blazed at his back. It flashed and shone like the first rays of the sun, casting its all-consuming shadow northward. He watched as small pockets opened within the sea and imagined how the warriors below would turn their faces to the sky. Opening his ears, he could hear their vigor renew with a misguided sense of hope — or perhaps not so misguided, for even he knew there was little chance that he would leave here alive. 

"They've sent you in their stead," Sonam mused aloud. "Not to bargain or to question but to rid the world of a scourge," biting out the last word with a grimace, his tone sweetened as he recited, "For your judgment is Heaven's will.." then, peered over his shoulder with a twisted sneer, "Isn't that right, Apotheosis?"

The air hummed with searing energy, sizzling and snapping as a glowing white-hot aura outlined her from head to toe. Unbound dark tresses fanned out, carried aloft on the crackling wind, while limpid brown eyes bore into him with a flicker of something swallowed beneath burning passion reflected in her gradually slitting golden pupils. She glowed from within as if she were carved from sunstone, a smoldering umber light flaring beneath her tawny skin. 

Though morning had yet to come, against the lightening sky, she was like the sun itself. 

"I hoped if I reached you first, there would be a chance that we could talk once more..." The reproach in her voice and the admonition in her gaze made his skin crawl. Taken aback by the strange feeling, he tightened his grip on his blade's hilt. Her eyes flicked down for a brief second, then they hardened as she held out her hand, and he felt the air pull towards her. It swirled and curled in upon itself, turning and twisting as she moved her hand as if molding something.

His muscles burned with disuse, screaming as he pried his hand open to clutch at his chest. Uselessly, his heart strained against his ribs and feverishly beat upon the confines of his chest while anticipation prickled and burned his numbed skin. In a blink, the haft of a spear formed within her palm, twisting and melding downward until it solidified into a curved blade of scintillating molten gold.  Her eyes opened, meeting his with smoldering rebuke as she lifted her arm to the dawning sky, lances of sunlight pouring over the fractured earth. 

"But I see now, words are beyond us," her voice seemed to come from everywhere at once, reverberating in his head over his galloping heart. Yet, he knew it was from the one who stood before him. There was no other that could interfere where they stood. "Harbinger of Calamity, you will plague this land no longer."

Slowly, Sonam released the breath he'd been holding as time slowed to a crawl. A brumal chill slithered deep within his bones, creeping closer to the still-beating heart vying for freedom. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears and feel the steady thrum as the pulsating became painful, pounding against his temples and knocking raucously at his pressure points. Glass crunched and sifted beneath his feet as he pushed himself up, exhaling steam and gelid mist. The blood on his lips turned his coloring breath into a faint shade of scarlet as he twisted his hand into his chest until an audible crunch broke the stillness. 

The corners of his lips pulled up as he lifted his gaze to meet hers, opening his mouth to speak. But for a split second, he hesitated. Beneath the spear's glare were eyes widened with horror. What was she seeing? Why did she look so pained? Seconds passed, barely the length of a breath or the scant beat of a heart - Sonam stayed his hand. 

But then, he decided, she would do just fine. 

With a smile, Sonam turned to face her and earnestly confessed, "You don't know how long I've waited to hear you say those words."