( From a dream I had a few nights back. )
Feeling neither defeated nor actually victorious, Kain stands upon the ruined citadel overlooking the once beautiful, yet cracking pillars now torn to pieces. His past self had made his fateful decision, which he didn’t even bother trying to stop, it was inevitable, even as he recalls once preferring the alternative to this, to heal Nosgoth as expected of him.
Even when he knew that his sacrifice would have gone in vain. This world has a deep-seated taint that still needed to be eradicated, and he knew what had to be done.
Kain’s eyes fall from the pillars to the energized flamberge whose hilt his claws caress. His firstborn’s soul and energies from the previous Balance Guardians tangle together within the metal, which made a connection to him. He makes a pained expression, of both physical and emotional kind, as he had learned to remember what it was like to feel, genuinely. He would no longer be held back by the taint set by Nupraptor, nor would he succumb to any other impurities that Nosogth has been infected with through the ages. Given back something he didn’t realize he had lost, even something that he never truly had the pleasure of owning. And all the hope that came with it.
The Soul Reaver shimmers with power, not being able to communicate any other way.
The elder’s skin begins cracking and flaking off, even as he steps back, stretching one arm out to stand his blade, to be in constant contact with it. Afraid to let it go for any reason. He makes little sound when two deep, vertical trenches formed upon his backside, even when a great force is pushing outward in them.
From under Kain’s hardened, golden hide is a surge of energy trying to free itself from him. Soon, larger chunks of his flesh is burned and lifted away by brilliant white light, hot as the sun itself to him. He endures it, closing his eyes and lifting his chin while wisps of his pale hair licks the space around him, pulled from its fastener. The force from under the cuts in his back now burst forth from his back - two rays of light in the very shape of wings.
He isn’t sure what is happening or why, but he can’t - and won’t - stop it.
The pain is only temporary.
No amount of clothing is left, save for Vorador’s signet ring still dressing the ear it was pierced upon. No golden, armor-like skin was left, no traces of bronzed razors upon his feet or hands. He becomes completely engulfed in light for seconds, until everything changes, flesh lifted away and Kain becomes - temporarily - just a bright silhouette holding up his sword.
The light cools down and fades, leaving Kain calm and balanced. The energy reveals now that he has undergone a complete transformation; from golden hide came cerulean flesh and razors to black talons and fingers. Now partially opened eyes completely gold, though his snowy white locks that fall around him remained the same. The old one can feel the the two extra limbs behind him now and curls them around him. The rays of light fade into a pair of iridescent black wings, much like the ones depicted on all the artwork around the citadel and those sported by Janos Audron.
As he breathes, several threads of divine light escape him and encircle his head, crowning him with an ever turning, golden halo. His eyes open completely, his blue-black claws curling around his one true possession and stretches his newly formed wings for the first time.
This is what he is now, standing pure and ascended as the Scion.
And he takes to it as if he always was, taking flight without hardship, into the dawn sky to finish what was started.
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