Love & Deceit

In a dimension known as Dominican, a man with skin as light as freshly fallen snow, and hair as black as a raven’s feathers stood and surveyed the damage that was yet to come. The room was ripe with torment. Stemming from secrets that have been withheld for centuries. The Darkness was coming, faster than anyone could have ever comprehended.

“You’re making a mistake, Acheron!”

Completely impassive, the man turned around.

“I don’t have time for your misgivings, Moira.”

She regarded him in anger, her perfectly symmetrical face plastered in a scowl. Before she could answer, a second man wearing a dark cloak that bore a spiral like symbol upon it appeared in the room, out of nowhere.

“It’s time.”

She looked at the second man in horror.

“You…this is wrong! We are meant to be protectors…not this!”

“We are doing this to protect!”

“Is that what you’re calling it? We’re saving our own skin, leaving everyone else out there, as live prey for The Darkness.”

“We don’t have a choice.”

“We always have a choice…I am begging you; both of you, try to see reason.”

The second man’s eyes shifted for a moment. But Acheron cut in, using a tone that left no room for argument.

“Moira. Enough. We are preserving ourselves…our race. Nothing you say or do will change my mind. Or have you forgotten who’s in charge around here?”

The second man looked at her in pity.

“I wish there was another way, little sister. But there isn’t.”

“I...still don’t like this Jasper.”

“We are doing this for the greater good, keep that in mind.”

“It’s...you’re right. I’m just, having second thoughts...”

“Don’t. We are the Plight. This is our duty. No matter what happens today, know that we will always be at each other’s side. All three of us.”

Acheron rolled his eyes at both of them.

“If you two are finished with this frivolity…Jasper did you get all the tomes?”

“I did.”

“Good, time to end this...”

Acheron linked hands with Moira and Jasper. They all began chanting in Dominican. Saying the words…their surroundings started dissipating, bit by bit, as if being erased from existence. By the end of the chant, they had disappeared…and so had Dominican.