The sky was soon glowing in the sweet colors of sunrise, The Hunter’s Moon finally disappearing. Walking towards the corpse of his brother, Demiurge knelt down to scoop him up and hold him close with a labored sigh.

“Perhaps in another life we could have been the brothers we always wanted to be without the curse of jealousy.” His words were heavy with regret still, as he moved his palm across Jaldabaoth’s face to be rid of the snow and stray hairs that didn't allow Demiurge to look one last time at his fallen brother.

But Jaldabaoth had fallen centuries ago.

At least, that’s what he had to remind himself to make this easier.

Snippet from my story The Demon King of the Desert