• 1-Slaughter
• 2-Chapter Two
• 3-Chapter Three
• 4-Chapter Four

Slaughter

Disclaimer: Legacy of Kain belongs to Edios and Crystal Dynamics
not me. I am making £0.00 out of this fic, it is written purely because I have
a burning need to create. Although I would like to own Kain . . . then he’d be
mine.

Warning: this fic contains YAOI (GuyXGuy), blood play and a lemon, if this offends or upsets
you do not read this, it’s that simple.

Rating: R - NC17

Pairing: Kain/Raziel

Part: One of three or
possibly four haven’t decided yet

Authoress note: the beginning came from a one off I wrote a while
ago. I was trying to write this but it wasn’t working at all so I just posted
the beginning as a separate fic.

Now I have tried again and
will hopefully succeed this time.

{Kain} meaning Kain’s point of view.

{Spectral Realm} meaning location

* / * / * / * / *

Prologue

{Kain}

I consider myself a connoisseur of mortality.

I have consumed much of it.

When I was young, a fledgling vampire chasing after the
Circle, I sampled all the offal that surrounded me. But now I preserve my
energies for only the sweetest meat. The one tainted by fear, the one crisped
alive by fire, the one begging for life and willing to exchange anything for
it. Even their soul.

Here in Meridian I have
always dined well.

I find great beauty in dying meat, in its many colours,
shapes and unique textures, the heaving indigo of rotten meat, the crisp
blackness of burnt meat, that wonderful purple and the spongy texture meat
takes when it was drowned and finally the wonderful warm, bright rose of
freshly sliced meat.

But it is not truly the meat I crave, not any more. I have
not truly craved meat in centuries. But that doesn’t mean I should not have
it.

When I kill, ripping a carcass apart, reducing it to bone,
I reveal their structures, what made that body what it was, but that is not all
I reveal. By swallowing the life it becomes a part of me. I live through its
experiences and emotions and subsequently by killing thousands I have lived
thousands of lives. Privately, I like to believe I have realised that human’s
soul, the part that truly made the human what it was.

When I find myself with my hands buried up to the e in in
some creature’s flesh, stealing its life, everything becomes clear to me. I
gain a little clarity, the fog of my destiny lifts for one heart wrenching
moment and I am my old self once more. My old self, full of
arrogance, pride and power.

The creature I was before I discovered my true path.

But it is only a moment and all moments end. Far too
quickly, I find myself surrounded once more by the fog of destiny and the
weight resettles itself comfortly upon my shoulders once more.

So now I gorge myself; preparing my body for what I am
about to embark on.

I smirk to myself as a young man, no older than I was when
I died, walks beneath the roof I am currently perched on; he will do for my
last meal tonight. I follow him from the rooftops, letting him get a little way
in front, then catching up before letting him slip ahead again, occasionally
and deliberately making little sounds, and even letting him spot me once.

I am making a game of this; glad that despite the
metaphorical weight I now carry I can still find enjoyment in the simple
things.

The human has heard me and yet has not acknowledged my
presence; I catch little whispers of thought from him.

“There
are no more vampires in Meridian, no more vampires in Meridian...”

Dropping down, I knock him easily to the ground and lift
him back up by his collar, slipping fang into flesh quickly and easily.

The terrible realisation of death seems to sharpen his
taste. I become drunk on the flood of his experiences, I live his entire life
in the time it takes for his blood to leave him and enter me. I wallow in his
world.

Dropping him unceremoniously I leap gently back to the
roof tops, stalking now to the higher area of Meridian, to seek out a noble
among the few still here and still living.

I want my child’s second meal to be a worthy one; his
first of course will be my own blood.

~

I sit on the spire of the cathedral, looking out at the
city bellow.

Small golden lights glow in windows, but instead of
looking warm and welcoming they remind me of fear. The humans fear us and light
the streets, banishing the darkness and hopefully the vampires with it.

Mindless, thoughtless and hopeless. Three words that describe the human race perfectly.

I am currently almost contented, despite the rushing
thoughts racing each other through my mind. The blood in me is settling, making
me comfortable and lethargic. My whole body feels heavy, but comfortably so,
like slipping into a warm bath with all your clothes on. Warm
and heavy.

I sigh loudly as one thought forces its way to the
surface. o:p>

No doubt it was foolish of me to come all the way to Meridian just to
feed. But I needed time to think, to clear my head of all thoughts before
pulling them back inside, more organised and easier to understand.

I find myself less and less able to understand things
lately, trying vaguely to comprehend the vastness of it all. The glimpses I
have been granted into my own future have actually confused me more than if I
had never known a thing, but they have given me one clear message.

I am . . . responsible.

Once more I want to snigger. Of all the people to choose
for this job, the fates have chosen me. The fates must either be desperate,
foolhardy or very, very stupid. Once more giving me the same ultimatum, sacrifice yourself,
only this time it is not self sacrifice. They will send some . . . creature to
do it for me.

I half wonder why I was chosen for this. Surely e mue must
be a reason. Out of the millions of souls, why was mine the one selected for
this? Unquestionably, there were better choices. If all I have to do is
sacrifice myself, then there had to be better
candidates, people who WOULD willingly sacrifice themselves for the world,
people like Mortanius or Ariel.

Unless sacrifice is not my destiny, if I was the most apt
soul chosen for this then sacrifice would not be the task. There must be
something deeper. Something that has been hidden, something I will discover. I
sigh again and stand. I do not want to think anymore. Eventually, I will figure
something out.

For once, I have faith in myself.

Tensing, I leap from the cathedral onto a lower roof and
wait for a human worthy to become my child’s second meal, to pass bellow.

As always, it makes me glad to be a vampire in Meridian and not
a man.

Chapter One

{Spectral Realm}

“You are not worthy.”

The voice of the elder echoed through the soul that is
held captive, held forever in the purgatorial grip of the elder.

The soul hung limp, completely without hope of freedom
from this purgatory. Long ago, when the soul was newly dead, it had held
thoughts, memories and emotions from its, life but now it had forgotten what it
was to feel, to think and to remember.

It did not remember that it had once been a great warrior,
that it had slaughtered thousands or that it had been murdered.

So long had it spent in the realm of the elder that it had
forgotten everything. For the soul, there had never been a life before. There
had never been anything before; there had only been the elder.

It held no thoughts now, all sucked away by the elder. No
emotions stirred with it save one - a deep fear of the elder. It knew not why it never questioned why, it did not have the
capacity to question why it feared the elder so. It was hollow, save from its
fear, and almost lifeless.

The soul had writhed and fought at first, when it had been
newly dead and still held memories of life. But then it had become confused,
lost; it began to forget life, and then it forgot why it struggled against the
elder. It forgot why it feared the elder so much, for the elder had always held
it in this unbreakable and timeless grip.

“You are
not yet worthy,” the voice boomed, caressing the soul, causing it to
twitch in terror. “You will be, after
time,” the voice continued, “you will
become my soul reaver, my angel of Death. You will Kill Kain and save Nosgoth.”

The words held no meaning to the little soul that was held
helplessly in the eternal and unbreakable grip of the elder.

“He will
come for you soon,” the elder raved, “he will try to take you, to make you one of his abominations. I will prevent it.”

The elder coiled around the little soul possessively. The
fear in the little soul magnified.

“I can
feel him searching,” the elder hissed, tightening his grip on the
little soul. “He shall not have you. You
are mine, you have always been and will always be my
soul reaver.”

The elder wrapped tightly around the little soul, hiding
it, covering it in darkness and fog.

But the little soul was found.

Something broke through the elder’s darkness easily, as if
it had not been there, or as if the other did not see it. It reached out and
touched the little soul; the little soul felt no fear of this one.

It was . . . warm. While the elder was a cold lifeless
creature, this new one was warm, alive - and yet not alive. It touched the
little soul, entwining with it, caressing it. The little soul responded,
curling tightly around this new entity, wanting to be close to it.

The little soul felt safe as the other touched it. This
was right, so very right. He belonged with this one, not with the elder who’s grip had begun to loosen as the new entity pulled.
There was a brief moment of struggle and the little soul came loose of the
elders grip. This new entity broke the grip easily and, wrapping the little
soul in its embrace, carried it into the physical realm.

The elder watched hatefully as the little soul was pulled upwards
into the physical realm, by his enemy. Yet in truth it did not matter. No
matter how far the little soul strayed, it would always return to him.

“You
cannot escape from me any more than you can escape from yourself.”

~

Kain wrenched backwards, gasping; weakness nearly
swallowed him, almost forcing him into unconsciousness. But he was stronger
than that, able to stay awake despite the dizziness and the nausea.

He had given his chide more blood than he had originally
intended, which was indeed foolish. One of them had to be strong enough to
protect them, should anything happen, and right now he felt like he could have
been knocked down with a feather.

He suddenly felt desperate arms clamp around his waist.

Sensation assaulted the little soul as it was imprisoned
in flesh. Raw sensation blinded it; it had been so long in the realm of the
elder that it had forgotten life, living, bodies and what it meant to be alive.
The body it was now encased in had been dead so long it did not have what was
needed to live.

He opened his eyes, finding his vision broken and
fractured. He could not see. Dead eyes had not yet healed, so he closed them
again, preferring darkness to the blurred world. A musky damp smell hit the new
life hard, making the child snort, trying to rid its nostrils of the stench.
The young one paused for a moment. There was another smell, a more pleasant
one.

The fledgling could feel slight warmth in front of him and
some deep instinct inside similar to one a newly hatched birds possess told him
that this was his father. This creature in front of him was the one who would
take care of him. Automatically, he reached out, wanting to be held, to be
touched.

He felt his father let a small sigh escape him, before a
strong arm wrapped around his waist and the other around his shoulders, a
sharply clawed hand combing into his hair. the
fledgling leaned forwards and up, burying his head under the other’s chin,
nuzzling there, trying to be closer.

He felt safe, so safe, protected.

He'd have done anything his father asked at that moment,
as long as it meant he wouldn’t let him go.

There was sound. It was muffled and unclear, but soothing
and nice. He tried to nuzzle deeper into the one holding him. He could feel
vibrations coming from his father. It took a moment for his fractured mind to
realise that the muffled pleasant sound was coming from his father. He opened
his eyes again, trying in vain to see. He wanted to see his father.

When his eyes refused to heal he gave up and settled for just
leaning against his father and listening. Slowly, he felt his eyelids droop,
unseeing eyes closing slowly as his father spoke soft words. Still so new to
unlife, he was unable to separate the sounds, so they all ran together in a
low, quiet, singular sound. The fledgling smiled and yawned, feeling warm and
comfortable. He let the soothing sound wrap around the blank space in his mind,
making him feel content.

“. . . Child, know that your name is Raziel and you . . .”
Kain stopped, looking down at his child asleep in his arms, still clinging
tightly to him.

He smiled before he could prevent himself and teleported
them away.

~

The fledgling opened his eyes and was shocked to find them
seeing, working perfectly, more than perfectly.

He looked around. He was somewhere warm and dry, and lying
on something he knew to be a bed. Red covers fell about him, smelling slightly
familiar. He did not know where he was, and the smells were different, warm and
dry compared with the musky damp that had assaulted him on his awakening, so
his tired mind deduced he was somewhere else. All in all he did not care truly,
as long as his father was . . .

He stopped, frightened. Fear gripped him, stopping him
from moving.

He was alone! He couldn’t see anyone else! He was alone!
Panic ripped through him like a lightening storm full of fury and rage, strong
and uncontrollable. He heard himself let out a cry, a loud frightened whimper.

An arm wound around his waist, a low sound accompanied it.

Relief filled the fledgling as he felt another pull up
against him, holding them together.

Pushing his head back and up, there was a chin just above
his head; he fidgeted briefly, trying to turn around in the grip. The arm
loosened and he turned easily, facing his father. Seeing him for the first
time, tall, slim but strong with elegant features, he was paler than the moon
itself. His father lay atop the red cover. One golden eye was half open,
watching him, his ashen hair splayed around them.

Kain watched as the fledgling opened and closed his mouth
a few times, making small half sounds. Little quiet syllables escaped his
child.

“Take a deep breath,” he whispered.

The young one nodded and obeyed, swallowing first, and
then he spoke.

“Father?”

“Yes, I am Kain, know that your name is Raziel, you are my
vampiric child.” Kain yawned, displaying graceful and deadly fangs.

Raziel shivered and felt all the hairs on the back of his
neck stand up, in fear and . . . anticipation? The word ‘vampiric’ echoed in
his mind and he shivered again. For some reason, the word frightened him. A memory, perhaps.

But from where?

Ideas and images flashed quickly before the fledgling’s
eyes, too confused and fast to make out, but the idea of vampire brought fear,
the feeling of hatred, the want to kill the monsters. The confused fledgling
looked at his father who lay next to him, hair tangled from sleep, eyes gold,
but hinting red and sore, half open and looking exhausted.

His father wasn’t a monster . . . was he?

"Are we monsters? Am I a monster?" he asked.
That confusing fear bubbled up inside him again, causing him to shudder.

Kain blinked at the question. It was not one he had
expected.

"You are my child, a vampire, not a monster.” He smirked a little. “Just a
little one now,” he nuzzled lightly at his child’s hair, “but you will grow as
I will teach you.”

Raziel snivelled a little and leaned closer to his father,
hands grabbing at him until they found a secure grip that they were happy with.

He curled closer and was happy.

Kain blinked as his child curled closer to him. He was not
confused by the action itself; he had half expected the young one to curl to
him. He half envied his child, the fact that he had a maker. Kain remembered
his awakening, alone in his tomb, frightened and angry, wanting someone to be
there, someone to teach him.

So no, it was not the action that confused him.

It was what he was feeling that confused him; he could
feel the comfort, the safety and the absolute trust almost pouring out of his
child. He had felt his child’s fear when he had woken, thinking he was alone.
It had made his stomach turn in a nauseating fear.

But now the happiness of his childe was filling him up
with an almost happy glow. p>

Vorador
sat on his balcony, watching his fledglings practice
against each other on the safe solid grounds hidden in the marsh-like bog of a
swamp. He turned as he heard Kain approach.

“It is
how it is when you create your own,” Vorador sighed contently, not turning to
the other and knowing the question. “A bond will grow, it matters not whether
you hatee one one in life; in death, you will be bound
to them. It’s a strong bond. Almost unbreakable. I
think it’s there to stop us frm killing our young out
of hand,” the elder mused.