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Chapter Fifty

'We are our own devils; we drive ourselves out of our Edens...to roam without purpose in the chaos we were born within. Using nature, so pure and perfect, to fulfil our darkest lust and desires.'

Nathaniel's hands clamped on the rail as he watched the tide swell and the waves curl and claw at the sand and shale.

The air was fresh. The salty scent pulled away the stagnancy that stillness sometimes brought.

That voice. That damning, cherubic voice...it took all the beauty from the scenery. Stripped it away as if it had been doused in acid.

'We play the pipe, and the mortals dance...even God despairs.'

"Be silent," Nathaniel hissed through gritted teeth, two of his nails snapping as they unconsciously clawed the wood. A splinter pierced his fingers, and crimson blood bubbled to the surface.

When it fell, the mist swirled, clamouring for the bitter taste.

"A heart once made of pure stone, now sees that life is Hell alone...but still the eyes refuse to see, the pain and woe coming to thee
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