Silverlight Terrace run, boy, run.

"You should've-- killed me yourself you--- you fucking coward!" Keir snarled, eyes wild as his father's fangs sheered the tissue of his foreleg. He had been robbed of dignity from the moment his damned mother expelled him from her womb. From Keir's first breath, the world denied him fairness. All that he had was his name-- the only thing that remained truly his was his name. And, with satisfaction curling his lips, Keir knew it would forever hold weight over his family.

Keir, the scorned son.

Keir, who reaped the life of his darling sister Aleith's life.

They could refuse to ever utter his name again, but her absence would remind them every passing day of him. His father would forever have to bear the fury, the shame, that he had not killed his pathetic son the day he was born-- and would never be allowed to forget what he lost as punishment for the years of torment.

"You can-- kill me, but-- you will NEVER rid-- yourself of me--" His eyes rolled into his head with agony, and his aching legs scrabbled against his father's stomach as he twisted and struggled. Keir was too exhausted, too weak to fight back ... but he had his tongue, and Hrath had not robbed him of that yet. Keir laughed with furious glee, spitting in the face of the foolish fool who had shown an inch of weakness and payed. "You were-- you were WEAK-- and y'fuckin-- you fucking PAYED for it!" he spat, teeth bared in a grin of pure, smug satisfaction. "YOU SHOULDA-- YOU SHOULD'VE FUCKEN' KILLED ME WHEN-- BEFORE I DREW MY FIRST BREATH! -- NOW ALEITH IS DEAD AND YOU HAVE TO LIVE WITH THE KNOWLEDGE THAT SHE FELL TO MY FANGS!"