A whirlpool of ill intent, fiery emotions blazing across the skies and in the earth. The very air trembled, as the flames of hatred flew ever higher. The blazing columns of fire formed by the great tanks of the Purge were dwarfed by comparisons, mere candles before an inferno. It was seen in the corpses of those that had fallen, charred and torn, cut and bleeding, some still barely living, soon to die. It was to be heard in the screams and cries of tribulation that echoed across the battlefield, in the great roar of war machines. It was to be smelt on the air, gone foul with the scent of fear and death. But most of all? It was felt, in the hearts of men, who stood in this great inferno, in this cyclone of blazing minds. That trembling, adrenaline-charged killing intent, echoed from being to being. Hopes and dreams falling apart before the onslaught of primal, all-consuming hatred, the flame harbored in the soul that would spill into the world, bending the wills of hundreds to it's merest command. 

Gabriel looked down at this spectacle, seeing not with eyes but with his thoughts. Conceptual fingers stroking every surface, a disembodied gaze streaking from face to face, souls flaring up, briefly before dying out. And yet, invisible hands gathered them, those tiny flames. A hatred focused and gathered, a force greater than humans. A beautiful orchestra, played out just for him, on the strings of the human heart.

And yet, all things must come to an end. For all things there must be a beginning and an end, and the time allotted to this inferno was running short. As souls burned to ashes, and bodies hit the floor, the flames died down. Hatred became determination, ideals were once more themselves, and the mind was once more possessed of it's own will. The inevitable hand of time had made it's ruling, or rather, there were simply no Newbloods left.

Between the slaughter performed by SOLDIER, the Purge, and the kinslayers, there simply weren't enough Newbloods left to facilitate any real form of war. Of the five hundred that had stormed, bloodcrazed, into the city, only a few dozen fled it with their tails in between their legs. So many souls, so many deaths, so many regrets filling the air with their sweet songs of sorrow. Those brief blazes of fire still left would soon die out, and the memories of those that had fallen would be interred within the tomb of time.

'Sons of Cain? I would certainly hope not. Such sons would be a painful disappointment to any parent.' The voice was not his own, nor were the words those he had thought to speak. Of course, at this point in time, consciousness was a fading dream for the vampire. His head lay severed , released from his body, and without the blood to sustain it, his own mind would not have been capable of forming words to speak altogether. As such, it could hardly raise an objection against these new words, spoken with it's tongue. 'Would one not prefer them drowned at birth, than to live as cattle? It would certainly be the responsible thing to do.'

A fleeting grin crossed the face of the decapitated head, as silence followed it's voice. 'Certainly, such an auspicious gathering would have place for an extra head? Two are better than one, so someone better take me with them.....' However, the voice was already growing weaker. Whilst brain death occured far more slowly for vampires than it did for humans, the mind still could not live without the body. It would not be long before even this freshly killed Newblood would die, making him useless. Truly, a failure to the bone. 'Isn't it a nice sight, seeing the youthful so.... energetic? I didn't start monologuing until I had at least a couple of centuries behind me, but they keep starting earlier.'

Slowly, the voice grew more faint, eyes beginning to glaze over, as a steady stream of blood still flowed from the remains of the neck. Tattered remains of memories hung around like ghosts, soon to be erased, leaving only the empty shell of a mind. Gabriel sighed, as he continued. 'Those who dedicate themselves, constantly jumping at the carrot. Bedi, I think you could find a better arbitrator, don't you think so? And girl.... wouldn't it be a shame if something terrible were to happen to Miss Camille? Shiny shiny men are heading your way, and they're not so happy to see you....'

After a moment of silence, it became clear that the head was, in fact, dead. After another moment of silence it was confirmed that it would not speak again. Gabriel turned from the battle, as he decided to leave the children to their own devices. There would be other cities, other wars, other battles. Wouldn't it be a shame if all the players died in the middle of the game? It would ruin the surprise at the end!

A brief gesture showed his permission, and the small boy turned, smilingly trotting to his side. A tiny, frail little thing, eyes of pale blue, wearing tiny little pants and a tiny little shirt. A tiny hand grabbed a hold of the expensive, custom-made velvet coat, as if for the sake of balance, as the pair walked off. Oh, he had plans yet. No spoilers...

Through a maze of glistening paths, a maze of mirrors extending far beyond the reaches of space and time, this little fragment of reality travelled. Fragile lives, motivated by hopes and dreams, hundreds of little threads holding together this vast net of possibilities. There was no such thing as chance, there was no such thing as destiny. There was only what was, what would be, and the choices in between. For in the end, didn't it all come down to choice?