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The winter's chill in the wind sent a shiver up Solomon's spine as he stood at the top of the towering building frame at the heart of the city, the turtleneck shirt and long cloak of blue to black offering little comfort as he sat and gazed upwards to the multitude of stars. The black fabric supported with gold which created the mantle that shaped the shoulders of the cloak felt heavy upon him, far more so than it ever should have; the weight of loss grew with each passing year, with each birthday that came and went, and with each memory which slowly faded into nothing so he would not fall into madness. This time of year, something would possess him to place a jagged golden crown onto his head, the cold broken metal somehow a comfort and a curse as he watched the infinite stars above him. The cold corners of the cracks in the golden circlet pressed sharply into his brow, threatening to draw blood should he adjust it to either side. The crown had been recovered, though his memory failed to give details as to the how, but just like his many other companions he had acquired since his devastating mistake of immortality, it too threatened to leave him eventually.
The wizened sorcerer king's gaze lowered to the streets far below him, orange and yellow street lights shining on the concrete sidewalks and asphalt roads, damp from melted snow that the ground simply was not cold enough to allow the flakes to stick. Other humans were there, walking along in singles and pairs. He could not hear the clicks of heels on concrete, but Solomon knew well enough that they were there, taunting his loneliness this evening. It never did seem fair, married to the solitude that came with immortality. Not even subduing the great demon Barbatos, the master of time itself, had been enough to fill the void that grew with each passing year. Memories of warm hands in his gentle laughter of loves long gone came and went, much to his displeasure. The reflective light below him almost hurt his eyes, at the very least it strained them and caused him to lift his hand to his face and rub them with nearly frozen fingers. His attention moved skywards, back to those millions of soft lights above. He had once surrounded himself with other humans in search of the fulfillment that companionship could bring, but when it still could not bring him the comfort he sought, he turned to the divine and devilish. They may have presented themselves to appear as he did, but there was never a way for him to deny the truth that they simply were not the same. There was a tightness in his chest, the pang against his pride which ached as he remembered how far he had fallen; from king to pawn for those who he once tried to control through the cruel means of magic and chains.
Long ago, had he voiced these concerns, a love who never could compare to any other would have reprimanded him for thinking like this. Solomon adjusted his cloak, feeling the pearls and beads which made up the starry sky motif he wore, trying to recall their words when they had first presented it to him. His head ached as he tried to remember, but the words never came. All he could visualize were their lips speaking, but even now after thousands of years, the details of their face had begun to fade; from the color and shape of their eyes, the curve of their jaw, the feel of their hair as he used to run his fingers through the strands, to the shape and texture of their lips pressed against his own. Soon enough, Solomon could not remember what they looked like at all, resigned to recall memories of fulfillment that were long gone and never to return. He inhaled sharply through his nose, brushing away a tear that had begun to trail down his cheek. He wanted to see them again, to beg Barbatos to bring him back to when they were living, breathing, and warm so that he could whisk them away to present time. He would have done this over and over again to feel the companionship he craved, knowing that by merely opening the dark grimoire that would control the demon of time, he could finally have what he wanted. Or, perhaps he could settle to go back and take one picture of their face so that he could gaze upon them and remember the warmth of their arms wrapped around each other and the tender kisses they once shared whenever the loneliness became too much to bear. Yet, Solomon only stood here, gazing at the stars as each teardrop dripped down his frozen cheeks, the wind picking up and upsetting his balance so that he needed to grab the handrail and anchor himself with the coat flapping behind him. All the while, the stars watched him, cold and endless in their expanse, taunting his pain.
Who is really the one who should be taunting? He thought to himself as he glared at them. You may be as unending as I am, but at least I think and I feel. I might feel pain but that means I have loved and been loved. You may fascinate many, might have been adored throughout the ages, but you’ll never know what it is to have your heart swell with love for another; nor the sting in your chest when those you love are ripped away from you.
The stars had no response, continuing to twinkle in the sky almost as though they were asking him to name even one that he still remembered, knowing he could not; or could not without needing to look up the stories and histories about his past as the mighty and wise king. He felt a warm wet drop roll from his forehead and down the side of his nose, dripping off the tip and onto his lower lip. It smelled and tasted of iron, prompting him to touch his lip and observe the now blood stained fingertips. He had not felt the cut from the broken metal, though he was now extremely aware of the blood that now froze to his face. It felt as though the eternal sky was mocking him, telling him to return home and pout there and leave it alone. Solomon's eyes stung with pain as the tears flowed from his eyes like rivers. He had not cried in…by the Celestial Realm, had he forgotten that as well? Had it truly been so long since he had faced the endless expanse of existence that he couldn't remember when it had occurred?
"You mock me," the king of nothing whispered, the chill in the air causing the pain and discomfort in his exposed skin to be far too much for him to ignore for much longer. "I will not stand here and have dead stars mock me for being alone." He wiped the tears away with the back of his hand, and with a sweeping motion of his cloak, and a whispered spell to the wind, Solomon disappeared from sight.