Raziel thought back to the stories Kain told him and his brothers of the days of the circle, and the acquisition of this blade.  His battle with William the Just, who never had the chance to become the dreaded Nemesis.  The murder of Sir William triggered the near extinction of the vampires, which in turn triggered the near extinction of humans at the hands of Kain.  This war still raged, but grew more futile with every passing day.  Only a few scattered tribes of humans remained to fight Kain’s armies, and Kain hunted them slowly, enjoying the fear and paranoia it caused them. 

Raziel crept closer to the ancient blade.  A wave of dizziness swept over him, the room seemed to pulse.  The dark blade seemed alive, he could hear it somehow, calling to him, the voice clear in his head.  Rasping, weak, and hateful.  Lured by this voice that even through the distortion seemed horribly familiar, he took the hilt in his still human hands.  Kain’s hands had become claw-like and bony a decade before, and a short time ago his fingers began to form into long talons.  Raziel had a long time to wait before he began such a transformation. 

The Reaver began to pulse more violently as he gripped the metal of the hilt.  A soft glow began to emit from the blade.  The voice was now a torrent of sound and image crashing into his mind.  White fire surrounded Raziel’s body. 

“Raziel!”  someone shouted, but to Raziel it was but a whisper amidst the roar of the Reaver’s power.  Against his will he began to turn, and found Kain glaring at him.  He began to run at Kain, incapable of controlling his actions, and he swung the blade in a fury that was not his own.

 “Master Kain!” he pleaded, “help me!”  He continued to swing the blade as Kain dodged effortlessly, the older vampire still far beyond what Raziel was capable of accomplishing.  Finally, Kain disappeared, and Raziel was suddenly struck from behind.  He turned to face Kain, barely recovered, and Kain backhanded him again, this time sending him into the wall.  As he lost his grip on the Soul Reaver the sensations brought on by it’s touch faded, and as Raziel fell into unconsciousness, so did any memory of what had just taken place.

 He awoke with Kain’s claws wrapped tightly around his neck.  All he could remember was taking the Soul Reaver and Kain’s fist slamming him to the wall. 

 “Hear me Raziel, and remember this for as long as you serve me, for if you don’t that will not be for very long.  The Reaver is mine, and if I ever find you with it again I will cast you into the Abyss without a second thought.”  Then throwing him across the room again, “Now, out of my sight before I decide you don’t deserve a second chance.” 

 Raziel needed no more warning and he was gone before Kain could even look back at the fledgling.  Kain looked at the Reaver, still glowing fiercely.  He laughed to himself, fairly entertained at what had just occurred rather than angry.

 “And you,” he addressed the sword cheerfully. “your attempt was admirable, but futile.  You’ll have your chance, in time.  Though whether you’ll take it or not remains to be seen.  I have a different plan this time around that may benefit us both, but you must be patient.  You never did give me the chance to explain my actions did you Raziel, and look at you now.”   He picked up the sword, and sheathed it.  “Yes, all will be repaired, but you must learn to trust me Raziel, as you did before.”  But even still Kain could feel the hatred for him burning from the sword as he had the first time he’d gripped it.  And knew why.  Mobius’ chamber had revealed enough to let him know what to do, and when the time came, he was prepared to do it.  And his duty as Balance Guardian would be fulfilled.