The Rose Cathedral was quiet, solemn, grave; only the slightest sounds could echo across its halls. Candles flickered along the walls, dim light softly illuminating the area. Peace seemed to fill the hallowed halls, a quiet air hanging over the sacred church. Kreyopresny sat quietly on one of the seats, writing a patient entry in his diary...
It has been a long time since that day. I still regret it, though it was my motivation to become that which I am now. A man of the church, away from the taint of blood that has already permanently stained me. I had not wished to remember, but it is not something one should easily forget.
It was a cold day, the rain pouring haphazardly along that barren wasteland of a battlefield. Bodies everywhere. It would have been a frightening, suprising, and sickening sight were it not of my own doing; as it was, it merely hung over me with a slight air of disgust. Limbs scattered, torn asunder by my own psychotic drive.
The rain poured heavily upon me, but I did not particularly notice it; the only thoughts that ran through my mind were those of the kill, of murdering anyone and everyone upon that battlefield. And that is exactly what I did. I was merciless, neither side having expected such a horror to descend upon them. My sword fell upon their bodies and cut through them in waves, limbs ripped apart and bodies hacked to pieces. Blood was shed in all corners, and I, bloodied but far from fallen, soon remained the lone victor upon that blood-soaked land.
I am not sure how this bloodlust waned, but it has now. I swore off my sword permanently, and became a bishop, which in itself I find to be one of the greatest miracles of my life; I have found peace here, in this church, under God's graces. I pray whenever possible that my soul may be somehow partially cleansed of its horrific taint through my work here, so that perhaps even if I go to Hell, I may not be so tainted as to bring those I touch with me.
I do not expect it, but I continue to pray for God's forgiveness. He is all-loving, but he is just, and he expects of me no less than absolute altruism in lieu of the acts that my... previous self had committed. I only hope that he may one day look upon me and see my acts now, and let them shine beyond the horror of my past.
Amen.
The diary closed slowly, and Krey stood, pocketing the diary in the folds of his long, black trench coat. He turned and began to walk, long white hair flowing softly as he moved, soft green eyes looking on with simple determination. His shoes tapped softly upon the ground, illuminated a bit by the blue flame that lined the bottom of his pants. His red shirt and tail seemed alit as well by the soft candlelight, flamelights dancing along their texture.
He moved up to the altar, the front center of the cathedral and knelt down, eyes closing, hands clasped together.
"God forgive me..."
