• A midnight discussion.

    The clock on top of the fire place showed that it was ten minutes to midnight. Seth’s nimble hands felt across the leathery spines of books along the shelf. His surroundings were nothing unusual. Alone in the library in the middle of the night, only the fire place was his source of light, in fact Seth couldn’t have it any other way. He was at peace with himself here. The quiet nighttime was enough to sooth years of cannon fire and screaming people from his mind.

    He managed to grab a book and headed towards an arm chair when he stopped suddenly. There was a change in the air, someone was here. Someone was disturbing the quiet.

    “I know you’re here.” Seth said to the darkness quietly. He then turned to the doorway, where a silhouette of a man emerged and stepped into the dim light.

    “I couldn’t sleep.” Damien whispered and looked at Seth.

    “Well that makes it something we have in common this evening.”

    The older man continued to his armchair. He looked back at Damien, who was waiting patiently. Seth rolled his eyes and waved him to come.

    Damien blinked; but then eagerly walked over and sat in the chair next to him. However as soon as he sat down he suddenly gripped the armrests, waiting expectantly what was to come. His mind started racing; did he lunge too quickly for the opportunity to even see the danger? Was Seth going to do something to him?

    “Nothing,” the other man answered, almost reading Damien’s thoughts. “I am not going to do a damn thing, if that’s what you were thinking.” He smirked, “heh, you’re so eager to be accepted yet you don’t trust anyone.”

    Damien looked down and gave no reply to him. He only let go of the armrests and placed his hands over his lap.

    “No, not a damn thing,” Seth continued, still his voice not any higher then a whisper. “But I want to ask you a question. Why? Why is it that you spare me, you have enough time, even now, as your talking to me. You could summon your guards, take me away, execute me, and one of your problems will be over in a heartbeat.”

    Damien then looked up and stared at the other man. He slowly smiled.

    “Cause you’re a good person.”

    “That is bullshit and you know it. Tell me or I will really make sure that this is your last night on earth.”

    An empty threat, he could never do it. And both men knew, but for Damien he understood that it had been bothering the other man for some time.

    “I could just ask you the same. You have enough opportunity, especially when I am sleeping, to slit my throat. But I never once seen you neither raise your gun to my head nor have your hand raised against me. Why don’t you do it?”

    It was now Seth’s turn to blink in surprise. He put his hand up to his mouth to cover his muttering but then answered in a louder voice and smirking, “good point.”

    Stalemate.

    It went silent again. Only the cracking of the wood in the fireplace disturbed the silence. But both noticed again that neither of them spoke louder then a whisper. Was it not to disturb the sacred silence that presided over the house? Or was it something more? Could it be that the fact that, their hushed calm voices held something much more important. That they could actually speak to each other, not as enemies, not as strangers, but maybe as brothers.

    “What are you doing so late at night?” Damien finally asked. Seth only held up a book in his reply.

    “Late night reading, cant you tell? I wander here some nights when I can’t sleep and often hear screaming in your bedroom, and maybe this is why your up isn’t it?”

    The other bit his lip. He looked down ashamed again, like a small child that was going to get beaten for wetting the bed. It had been true, he had been screaming at night. It was such an absurd idea, him having nightmares, it was no such thing. He wasn’t supposed to have them, and admitting to a man who dared death so many times even made it worse. He then took his hands and gripped the armrests again. Such a weak minded person would have nightmares. It was just too childish.

    “No..”

    “Don’t lie to me.”

    “Yes.”

    Seth sighed and tossed away the book he was holding. It made a loud thud across the room making the younger brother wince. The older stared directly at him.

    “Truth be told, you’re not the only one. And I want you to look up at me when I am talking. That’s right, get your head up. There you go.” Seth smirked. “I had them as well, it would go for weeks on end. Waking up in a cold sweat, hearing people being murdered, roaring fires burning the timbers of buildings, true devastation. I’ve basically without reason, committed a mass genocide, disregarding a person’s race or background. Just for pleasure.”

    Not something he is proud of now, but back then, he would have a natural high. Seeing men’s faces being burned, melted off by fire, woman in the same way, even have his men do away with them. Children would just be dragged to the streets and be shot like little targets. Bloody shrieks, gasping for breath, and hands trying to grab him and take him down to hell. Who wouldn’t have nightmares?

    Damien stared at his brothers features as he was saying this. His voice was calm, but it wavered a little when he ended. Damien realized that he was sitting with a killer, after all this was the man that took his daughter by slitting her throat. But he studied him at this moment, he was paler. And did he notice sweat? No it must be a trick of the light.

    But however it made him even more ashamed of himself. By what Seth had told him, and the mass devastation of it, his dreams were not even considered into this league. Remembering back to his own reason why he was here, his nightmare. Which of course was silly right now, he dreamt again that his own birth family with their hatred, took knives and repeatedly stabbed him as he stood there kindly letting them and forgave them all. How true the image was metaphorically and physically made him shutter. But then again it was not the same as his brothers which were worse. They had meanings of true pain. Again he looked down and gripped his hands tightly. No they weren’t, he repeated in his mind, his are far worse. I’m a coward.

    “Stop that.”

    The younger man snapped out of it and raised his head again.

    “I think I must be going.” Damien stammered. “I’ll leave you to your reading. I apologize for my inconvenience to you.” He rose up and made a quick exit towards the door, when something grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Back into the fierce stone black eyes of his older brother. Though this time he had to look up, his brothers form changed from the pale, scrawny, young man with long raven locks, to a much stronger mirror version of himself.

    What I could have been. He thought with a tinge of regret.

    Yes he was the stronger, much more intelligent, and a grand fighter. Even the way he carried himself so fearlessly and proud as he walked down the halls, he wore an invisible coat of confidence that could only a true born leader would wear. Yes Seth would have been made an idealistic king and master. Not him, not Damien, not this man who had been grabbed and now looked up fearfully, pondering what the master of the house would now do to him. He was not worthy, he would rather be out in the fields, tending the flock and gathering wheat like he was meant to do when he wasn’t a demon. Where he was human and dreamed of a human’s life, simple, free, almost utopian. Tending to his sick mother, Bethany, and making her proud. But not this, he was not meant for this life, he was not meant for politics, social classes, and bitter jealousy that drove to murder. No he was a simple man, a simple child of God.

    He looked back up at Seth and realized tears were streaming down his cheeks. The stone hard eyes that looked down at him softened considerably. The next thing Damien felt was an embrace. The strange new feeling caused him to shed more tears.

    “Why me? Why I? Why didn’t they just leave me be? I wanna go home.”

    The elder didn’t say much but stroked his younger siblings head. Then spoke in a soft tone and so foreign that Damien thought it was an actual different language and pressed harder to hear.

    “You’re more fit then I am. Child of God, sympathetic to man, your innocence, your grace is what the hope for our family needs. I am a killer you are a saint onto god. You my brother have done nothing wrong. Don’t burden yourself with what ifs, go along your path of human strength and forgiveness. My brother, my brother.”

    It was then the clock on the fireplace chimed at midnight.