In his soul's sight, he could almost "see" it: the "monster from the abyss" before him, once drenched in filthy blood and howling like a wild beast in the dark alleys of the Underhive, had now shed all his viciousness and grown into a great leader in judicial robes, resolute, majestic, and just. The Night Haunter, who had once known nothing but slaughter, had finally become a human being in the truest sense.
Warren withdrew his right hand from Konrad's grasp. That withered, rough hand, whose fingernails had once been packed with the filth of corpses, trembled slightly as it touched Konrad's pale, handsome face one last time.
Just as it had when they first met in that dark pipe filled with stench and despair, when he embraced that blood-soaked monster.
"Konrad."
The old man's voice was soft and faint, as though the wind might scatter it at any moment. Yet the strength it held was more steadfast than all the stars in the universe.
"I never doubted."
His fingers gently stroked Konrad's cheek, as though confirming the perfection of this masterpiece he had sculpted with his own hands.
Then Warren's movements stopped.
He rested peacefully against the back of the bench, just as he would doze in his leaky shack while listening to the rain. With that utterly contented smile still on his face, he slowly closed the eyes that had seen through all the suffering and hope in the world.
There was no tragic farewell.
No last words at the final moment.
Nor any fear of death.
There was only utter peace, rising from the deepest reaches of his soul, after witnessing the fulfillment of the ideal he had pursued all his life and the complete salvation of a soul destined to fall into the abyss.
A breeze