Golden Scapegoat's Mutterings

12 The hour hand greets the minute hand's thirteenth return, just as it did the first time. The sinner cannot tell beginning and end apart. "Yesterday, I was going to tend to the flock in the sky, blanketed by white clouds, where my lambs would only be revealed when gales billowed." "Tomorrow, I will have etched fire to the slate, tempered shattered shackles with it, and forged crowns of triumph for heroes." "And today, I will never lose my own Coreflame." The dead have not passed, just as the living are yet to be born. 13 The waterfall bleeds the mountains, like a lamb's throat being slit. This world's evils are all the sins the traveler will commit. Thus, they will begin with the original sin. "We brought light to the world." "We brought destruction to the world." He is alone, yet murmurs to no one. The sinner's face is blurred. The traveler's figure overlaps. The sky will be the shadow after the land's death. 14 He once brought light to the world, but now dwells in a paradise no wider than a foot. An obsidian urn containing ashen remains. He is the living dead, as well as a dead mortal. He speaks to the sky in the language of stones, and to the land in the language of fire. He speaks to people in the language of blood. "And then they slew him." 15 "To think, that I can still think." The sinner was also surprised by himself. The world's evils have taught him all languages, but he has also lost his own language. Humans are an anomaly, for only they possess the light, and only they are deemed worthy of being slain. Light is indeed the great evil that he brought unto this world. As punishment, his reason, spark, or whatever this is called... has long been stripped away like a peeled onion, dismembered piece by piece. It's just... "To think, that I can still think."