Something that she's working on. :)


1. Prologue Thenos

The step creaked with a moan of pain as the pale white foot placed itself gently. Darkness remained in stony silence, refusing the light that tried to break through past the curtains repressing the reaching tendrils of light.

               Drip, drip, drip… liquid dripped down from his coat into a puddle on the wooden stair case.

               Creaks followed his up the old stairs like a groaning child. The only other sound in the desolate house was the sorrowful wail of wind outside, as if in strangled by the infernal night. There was no light, no bright life in the house, everything was over… soon it would be. Soon it would happen. Not that he needed light to find his way, it was something unneeded and unnecessary; even so, he held a torch, weak and dying, in the clutch of his fist.


A door opened deep within the he house, its screech even more mournful than that of the steps on which his foot still lingered.

               A soft patter of bare footsteps along the landing then a door closed again and with only a small pause he hurled himself up the remaining stairs.


A small deep red diary was held in her unoccupied hand.

               When she entered the attic the darkness was less absolute, the night was hindered by the glowing of the moon far away in space, stealing the light from the sun and filtering it’s winnings into the earth below. Stars, glowing like cinders, cast their own brightness along with their companion in the sky.

               A small black bat fluttered across his view, interrupting his thoughts.


Even if light was something of unimportance as a human it was sometimes, in dire circumstance, necessary to write with. He opened the bloodied book in his hand and pulled a quill and a long glinting knife from his coat pocket, but dropped the knife back in when he saw his hands: they were sticky and thick with dripping, red blood. He let a smile pull up his lips and chuckled.

               Sticking the quill with unnecessary force into his flesh he let the nib fill with the blood that pooled into the gap. Don’t be fooled the blood was not any that belonged to him…

               He placed the crimson tip of the quill to the page in the diary. Two words drew themselves across the small space between the lines. A single name…


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