Chapter 1: A Shadow in the Dark
A solitary figure moved, alone in the dark. Hands shaking, they walked slowly in the blackened hallways of a huge mansion, a building of intense luxury and splendour, cloaked in shadow.
Around them were scenes of carnage, tableaus of flesh and blood, and unseeing eyes. But the wanderer passed them by, unnoticed and unnoticing. The bodies stared back, unblinking. The lights flickered.
Here, a fire illuminated a magnificent library. Or what was left of it, and what remained of its occupants. There, a single candle showed fragments of shattered glass. Scraps of burnt and tattered paper fluttered and cascaded into piles of ash.
“No light; but rather darkness visible, served only to discover sights of woe…”
The reaper had come, and had harvested the fallen. A strange crop, framing a dream, a surreal nightmare, where the wanderer was the sole survivor. The last one standing.
Outside it was approaching dawn. A cold, dark, grey morning was coming. The wind and rain lashed at the building with a peculiar ferocity.
The figure sat by the door, hunched over, legs huddled. They’d be coming soon. The events of the night ran through the mind.
In the distance, sirens wailed.
