Prelude

So you found me… congratulations. I suppose that means you want to hear my story? The legend of how it all went wrong… of how good intentions led us straight to hell. Of how it's all my fault, because who else will stand in to take the blame. I suppose you must… After all, someone needs to try and fix this mess, and God above knows it isn't me. I tried to fix it once already, and you can see how that turned out.

(The Company of Myself)

The first thing I should tell you, is that I am alone. Not alone in the sense that I'm isolated from the world, though I have chosen isolation over what passes for society nowadays. That said, I've been alone for long enough now that I'm used to it. I'm content.

Before I realized my isolation, I realized that I could be a leader. I knew the words they would listen to, the emotions they would follow, the ideas that could change the world. Even now, when I feel cut off from the world as a whole, I still have the capacity to persuade, to lead mankind in whatever direction I choose. The irony is strong enough to taste. It doesn't taste good.

Birds of a feather will flock together. The wolf has his pack. Man has his fellow man. The demons who frolic in the flame have their kin, even god almighty has his trinity… but not me. I alone am unique. Isolated.

In general, I face the same problems as everyone else. Struggle. Hardship. Heartache. Loss. But, when anyone else gets stuck, they have friends, comrades, family to back them up. I don't.

I think about it all the time. Try to see where exactly it went wrong, but… I can't. Every choice I made, every step I took, I did what I thought was best. I swear to you I never meant for any of this to happen.

Maybe that's the point.

But you didn't come here to listen to me ramble about my mistakes. You came here for a story. You came here to learn what the history books won't tell you… but I have to ask, do you even know my name? Does my name even matter anymore? I warn you upfront, I may not have the answers you seek, but I can give you the right questions to ask. I'll start with the easy one.

My name is Triskael, firstborn of the fallen, and I am the anti-christ.

Chapter 1 - The Pretender

It was a cold day in the Sangre de Christe mountain range of New Mexico, with winter's jaws firmly gripping the countryside. The howling of the snow-laden winds had died sometime during the night, leaving the world freshly blanketed, swaddled in frost and snow. There was a peculiar kind of silence in the air as the first rays of dawn tilted over the peaks, but before long, the light that bounced and refracted amongst the ice had reached a brilliant incandescence, blinding in its intensity.

It was a morning to sleep in; the storm was bad enough that schools had gone ahead and shut down for the winter, but while most slept soundly, Triskael thrashed in his bed. The nightmare never changed, by now it was as familiar as the room he slept it. It always started the same way; gambling with the guards. Grizzled faces matched the gruff, dangerous rifles and shotguns that leaned against the wall, but all around the table there was laughing and carousing. They were a rowdy bunch, jeering and bluffing over a game of poker while a flask was passed around, many mocking his poor play that night, but his mind wasn't on the cards. He had a bad feeling, clutched deep in his gut.

Then, the distant rumblings of an explosion in the compound, followed immediately by the fire alarms. The cards were thrown down, forgotten, all traces of mirth and drink vanished in an instant as they grabbed their weapons. One of them shouted something, directions to the safe room, but the moment they were out of sight, he turned, racing in a different direction. To the elevators. To freedom.

The panic button opened the doors, even though the actual cars were shut down from the fire. Into the shaft, onto the ladder. He didn't make it more than a floor or two before a second, larger explosion sounded beneath him, flames spewing out into the shaft. He could hear the screamed lament of the damned in the inferno, cries of agony and suffering that chased him all the way to the surface.

And then he was free. A blizzard howled through the night, biting frost sinking deep into his wings as he cast about for a direction, an idea, but his hesitation cost him. One of the surface guards saw him and started towards him, to escort him to shelter, but the ground beneath him buckled, crumbling away. As he fell, he grabbed randomly, fingers catching on a jagged piece of metal.

Kael turned and thrashed, desperately trying to awake, but the nightmare held him tight. He could never wake up from it, not until it was finished. That final moment was burned into his mind, the soldier hanging on to an outcropping that was slowly cutting through his fingers, fire and hell raging beneath him in the ruined elevator shaft. He'd reach down, trying to help him, trying to grab his hand, and but the pain overcame his grip and he hurtled down, his screams of fear joining the chorus of burning hell down at the bottom.

I jolted awake, sitting straight up and breathing deep gulps of air like a drowning man pulling free to the surface. My back ached, right between the shoulder blades, and I thought I could hear the echoes of their screams even now… but as my mind cleared, so too did my perception. It was just the tea kettle, hissing its alarm that the water was hot.

With a sigh, I wriggled to press my back against the headboard. It was just a dream. I didn't have wings, there was no fire, and everything was fine. A few minutes more passed, and Jacky elbowed his door open, a steaming mug of cocoa in each hand.

“Hey you. Rough night?" Jacqueline T. Burns. She was, in a word beautiful. Blond hair, blue eyes, with a slim, athletic figure that shamed every other girl in school. Also, my adoptive sister, and therefore technically off limits. I took the mug and drank it greedily, not caring that the first swallow burned my tongue.

“Y-yea…" I didn't have the energy to say much more at that point, so she hopped up into bed and leaned back with me, nursing her mug.

“You know, Mom and Dad said it snowed like this the night we found you. It was one of the biggest snowfalls we'd had in years, and he was trying to get to the resort before dawn to open early, for all the boarders who wanted to be the first onto the slopes."

“Mhmm." I didn't remember a single detail from that night, or any night before it, but I'd heard the story often enough. “He was the first person on the mountain that morning, rode the lift up to his post. And lo and behold, there I was, half buried in a snow angel atop the mountain. No tracks leading to or from me."

I could feel the wry slant to my words. Not entirely intentional, but neither was it an accident. Another, more cautious sip of the cocoa as Jacky giggled. “Yeap! He said it looked like you'd fallen straight from heaven, and an angel caught you in the snow."

“C'mon Jacky, you don't still believe that, do you?" I couldn't help but smile though. I didn't believe in magic, and her dad had a tendency to… exaggerate his stories. It wouldn't be the first time he stretched the truth. “He probably found me lost on the mountainside. I bet that I was a thrill seeker, got lost in the storm."

“Nu uh! If you were, then why'd nobody ever turn up looking for you? Someone would have stopped by the police office asking about the teenager they lost!" My face soured, and I looked away pointedly. Guiltily, she took a bashful sip of her hot chocolate. “Right… sore point… but c'mon, that was four years ago, and you've got us! We're your family now. Stop moping and come eat, I made breakfast for you."

She flounced off my bed and back into the kitchen, humming as she went. Damn, but she'd make one hell of a woman someday. I gave her grief, but every time a snowstorm blew through, she'd greet me with a mug of chocolate and a steaming plate of breakfast. Even if I wanted to, it'd be impossible to hold a grudge against her.

After breakfast, we geared up and grabbed our boards. School was out, The Authority would be working all day, and we were beholden to nobody and nothing for the rest of the afternoon. Naturally, the first order of business for winter break was to hit the slopes so hard that we couldn't move the next day. Jacky sang along with the music pouring from the stereo, the morning was crisp and clean, and the future looked as bright as it ever did.

Still, the nightmare clouded the back of my mind… what did it mean? Why only during a storm? Could it… could it possibly be real? The ache in my shoulders informed me that I'd had a bad night's sleep and nothing more, but still… I'd daydreamed of flying for as long as I could remember. Of gripping the wind and watching the world turn beneath me. I was the first to scoff at Frank's story of finding me wrapped in a snow angel's wings, but secretly, in a corner of my heart that I didn't dare to mention, I dreamed of flying the wide skies on a raven's wings.