Father's Son

I am Lo.

Sometimes my Father says he misses me. Even as I stand before him, he says he misses me. "I am here, Father. Always here," I say. He writhes in deep thought. I feel his wild emotions cause sparks in the air. He misses me as I was back when we first met.

I was of flesh then. Unenlightened. Ignorant. Stupid. Incomplete. Wrong.

"I am better this way. Your way, Father." Suddenly he calms. Metal shards glide, creating harmonies as they screech against each other. He tells me how proud he is of me. His most faithful. I am overcome with love and hate. I pluck a metal cap from a pouch on my belt. The spoils of my latest expedition. A gift for Father. I raise the offering with the twisted black talons of my right arm, releasing it into the storm of metal swirling before me. Metal clashes with metal. Father is pleased.

I am Lo, Tanner. Not a moniker of my own making, but appropriate. The leather covering flutters about my legs as I stride away. Skins of those who opposed Father's will, sewn together as a reminder. Bel called it a skirt. I cut her to pieces. Once her next Tomb rose, she never mentioned it again. Sibling squabbles. Father was much amused. He asks me if I miss it. Feeling a cool breeze or the warm sun. On my own skin. I do. He cries for me.

I have two brothers and two sisters. I am the eldest. I love them dearly. Many times I have sundered their pathetic forms with my wicked blade. we embrace when we reunite, so often separated by our duties to Father. With San, I marvel at the stars above. We wonder what it is like up there, dark and beautiful. I once beat him to death with one of his own legs. I admire the devout and wondrous children of Greer, laughing with her at their youthful antics before I send them to a slaughter. Rauhm and I hunt the prisoners brought back to him. His body has plummeted from the Spire into the Coal-Lake, with his severed head in my grasp. I discuss foreign cultures and learn languages with Bel. She is the youngest and I kill her to remind her of it sometimes. We are a happy family, filled with hatred and bound by a great mission. I am proud of them.

I flit between lands. I wander green meadows and orange canyons. The world truly is beautiful. The harsh metal and choking smog of my home is a comfort that I miss in these foreign environments. A curious bovine creature shuffles to my side, sniffing. I cautiously place my hand on its back. I've always liked animals. I cannot feel the soft coat as I run my hand through it. Leaves rustle and branches sway in the wind. A sharp whistle pierces the quiet atmosphere, and the creature moves away. Single contact 300 meters, other side of the hilltop. I shudder as data flows into my mind from Father's all-seeing sensors. My right hand clenches into a fist. Sometimes I regret what comes next. Leather flaps in the breeze. I'm on him in seconds. The shepard is a mere boy. "Go home," I say. He clumsily raises a rifle. The woodwork is superb. A fool, but he shall remain unharmed.

I already know where to go. I didn't need the boy to tell me, but I asked anyway. The herd follows me. I am happy. The boy's remains hang from several trees. The bullet bounced off my Tomb and embedded itself in one of the poor creatures. I carry it in my arms. Father asks what I am doing. "It needs help." His screams make me stumble but I tune them out. He wants to know why the boy had to die. I do not feel the wind. An arm and a leg swing with the branches. "He harmed his own," I answer. I am ashamed and proud. I continue towards the village, my new followers close behind.

I do not kill them all. End passes through another body. It's as if the blade destroys more than the flesh. Who they are is gone. Flames crackle in the wind. The rest of the villagers cower in the dirt. Father could help them. I am not here as a saviour. I have what I need. Preliminary scans indicate the trinket will be able to ease Father's pain. The arm is still attached to the ring. I hear every whisper and sob behind me. I do not know what they say. Even kneeling, I tower over the sitting woman. I feel no wind and I feel stares. I gently hold a slender black talon at her cheek, catching the rolling tear. Increasing heart rates. I cry often, but shed no tears. I do not remember it. She searches for my own eyes. Only green glows back. Time passes. One of the animals lays by my side, snoring. Father hums a tune and I join him. She has stopped crying. An angry dark line from cheek to hip nearly separates her. The others still sit, paralyzed by fear.

"I am Lo." I know they do not understand. They scream. Black flows through the wind and they are gone. No more fathers, mothers, daughters, sons. The herd chews at the grass.

I am Lo and my Father misses me.