Prologue
This is the story about how I died.
I'm serious, I'm even narrating this whole thing while flouting around Phoenix in a hollow black suit with a frown.
Well, you might think this is cool and all because I was floating around Phoenix with a hollow black suit and seeing all things I shouldn't be seeing. You might say, "Wow, Cain, that's really cool. Can I die too?"
No. Just no.
One, because you wouldn't end up with the way I've been and two, that sounded creepy.
You don't want to die with the way I did. You don't wanna meet spirits, wraiths or even chimeras and phantasm that became real. You don't wanna go hunt down a spirit that would like to come back from the dead. Or even encounter several supernatural things like werevolves or such things that was lined up with the range "not normal."
All I'm saying was, don't screw up your life, find out that an ancient dead lord wants to take control of your body because you might end up like me (not a good idea).
Oh, and probably avoid some ancient writing on a rock or something. Also pissing off your whole clan to the point that they can abandon you so you'll emd up in a silly van with nothing else to wear but a ragged white t-shirt and pyjamas.
And also, it's probably a good idea if you just keep your eyes off the things that you see unusual from time to time, because probably, that would be me fighting off some spirit from the spirit realm (of course) because it would be probably one of those evil minions that no one told me that existed.
The thing that I'm saying was, you don't want to live my life (if I still consider myself alive and all) but no, just no. You won't end up with the way I did. But of course, unless if you want to meet some supernatural beings and all and encounter somethings that I can't consider things at all but whatever.
Before all this happened, I was nothing but a poor kid living on the streets. Uh, no, wait, let me rephrase that. I was a poor kid living on a sleeping bag.
This all started in a normal day. Of course, I was sleeping on my sleeping bag, feeling the heat inside it even though it was late in december, snow and all. The side of my face was covered in snow and all.
I can tell that it's still early in the morning because I wasn't hearing some kind of vehicle and chatter of peole. And this is the exact time I should get up and start finding another spot. Or maybe start my daily routine - stealing.
Hey, don't judge me yet. All I'm straling from was those kind of people that looks rich and all. Or someone really bad. Think of it as self imposed karma from me. And besides, I wasn't really going to survive with an empty stomach.
Anyway, I was ready to get up when a guy in the sidewalk said, "Oi, get outta there!"
You see, I can't really get why those people act like they own this whole street. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was just sleeping peacefully in this bag and all.
I groaned. "Okay, okay."
The moement I got up from where I lied, I thought about my van on the other side of the city town, parked in some kind of grassland. I wanted to cry (not) because that van was stolen from me. If I still had my van, I wouldn't need to get up every morning on a sleeping bag and be kicked by some cops so that I could scamper away.
When I fixed the sleeping bag, I slung it around my shoulder and took a good look at my surroundings. I'm under the bridge of the Public Garden. I only realized this now because I was too busy getting away from a gang. I wouldn't tell the whole story, but it's because I did something really stupid and ridiculous to it's leader.
All in all, I should get out of here and probably steal some food or scavenge some. But wait, now that I think of it, I guess I shouldn't steal now. I'm still hot in the eyes of the cops. 'Specially officer Santillan.
The guy's a huge pain. One time, he literally set me up with some kind of guy that would beat me up because that guy was one the persons that I stole from. And I didn't feel anything but burning anger because for one, I don't really care about the face or the identity of who I'm stealing from.
If I remembered him and the things I did to him, I can feel bad. But no. So I felt anger. The next morning, I came to Santillan and threw some big sized-rocks and him and his car.
I left the garden and decided that I should go to one of my friends (Hey, I must be a poor guy who steals and all but I do have friends). This friend has lots of food. Free food, to be exact.
I was about to walk towards A-East when a guy stops me by calling my name.
"Cain, don't go just yet."
Color me surprised when I saw Quil. It's been weeks since our last talk, and that talk didn't go well. I changed my spot. They're in the South Ave, while I'm in A-East. I and Quil were friends, so I smiled when I saw him.
"Hey, man."
"Cain." He said. He was wearing his usual snarky outfit and all that. But he was wearing a coat under another coat. Talk about sensitive.
"Come with me. They're after you."
"Who's after me?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
Quil bit his chapped lips then looked around anxiously. "I don't have time to explain here. Come with me. We'll meet Mugin."
"Wait, what? I thought Mugin isn't here? I thought he, uh, left Phoenix?"
"Flasnews, kiddo, he didn't." Said Quil, scratching his trimmed beard, still anxiously looking around. "Anyway, you really should come with me."
"Why?"
"They're coming after you. I can't tell who, or what, but I know they do. Just come with me, kid, Mugin knows more than I do."
I was very confused. I was thinking that Quil was talking about the cops or something, or even the gang that I escaped last night, but something tells me that it's not about that. The frightened and anxious look on Quil's onyx eyes had an effect on me at the moment. I could almost feel his anxiousness, too. And his fear about something he and I both don't know.
And another thing, why would Quil depend on Mugin? Mugin was just like us. Poor and all, sleeping on the streets, scavenging for food and some essentials. But, well, he has his own house that was made with some overused wood and all, but still, why would Mugin know about this? Like, whoever and whatever's coming from me, how could Mugin know?
But there was no time to think, that's what I can say. Quil was so anxious he started to fidget and bite his fingers. He was driving me slowly to nuts.
It's either I come with Quil or just shrug off all of this. I chose the former.
I looked at Quil intensely. He was still looking around like he's expecting somehing come out from the crowd and tackle us. I can't stand seeing Quil like this.
"Okay. Where's Mugin?"
"At the crossing."
I nodded then clenched the strap of my sleeping bag. It was a wintery day, and I was wearing nothing but a puffed jacket and jeans. It was so cold that I almost felt jealous of Quil's coat. I had this urge to pull it from him, wear it then run away like nothing happened. Like he didn't told me some weird things.
I tousled my brown hair to get off some snow on my head. The day was cold yes, but the coldness I can feel inside and my nervousness overcame it. I don't know exactly what would I do to myself. I don't know if I should brace myself for this "urgent" news that Quil had told me.
I feel like I wanted to run from all of this.. but to where? I'm homeless, and my "family" had abandoned me. I'm a stray dude in a puffed jacket, living inside a sleeping bag. Thinking about it made me wonder why would someone or something is after me. What, they're after me because I live in a sleeping bag?
Quil led the way to the Scramble Crossing, and there, we saw Mugin leaning against a post, his hands inside his coat.
Mugin was looking straight, his blue eyes distant. Then, he turned to us. The serious look on his face was replaced like Quil's - anxious. Mugin was my and Quil's friend. But Mugin suddenly disappeared off our radar for years. Maybe for two or three. I wanted to give him a bear hug, but his expression stopped me from doing so.
He shuffled to his feet then walked towards us. Mugin was older than me for maybe three years, but his face looks much older and mature. He has this lines on his forehead like he was scrunching his forehead a lot. His face held that grumpy face and all that. Totally different from Quil.
Mugin eyes held something I can't understand. Like he's deciding wether he'll tell me or not. Or just carry on with it. I didn't like it. No one liked it when Mugin became serious, more serious than he's ever been before.
"Hey, what's all this about, Mugin?" I asked.
He stopped in front of us, then looked at me straight in the eyes.
"They're coming for you. Go back to your uncle's house and never leave 'til morning."
I looked at him incredulously then laughed. I don't know if this is Mugin's form of surprise or something. But this cracked me up. Go back to my uncle and never leave until the next morning? Pfft.
"That's the most stupid thing I heard this morning. Thanks, man. You made me laugh."
He put his hands on my shoulder then clenched his jaw like he's trying hard not to scream or something.
"I'm serious, Cain. If you don't, you'll die and all that. You're the only one left.. they'll come for you."
Unfortunately, I've had enough of their "they'll come for you" bullshit. I huffed, then took a step back. I glared at the both of them.
"Can you just tell me what it is? Let's cut to the chase, for god's sake." I said, groaning and scowling at them.
It was wearing me off. The anxiety that they had given me added to the pain in my stomach because of hunger. I still haven't eaten anything, and I wasn't liking how they'll throw off some words to me like they're some kind of riddle.
They looked at each other, an understanding passing between them. I clenched my jaw. They're making me more anxious and I didn't like it.
"What is it?" I asked once again, a little power in my voice. I just want them to get over with it. It was killing me.
"If we tell you, you wouldn't believe it." Said Mugin, but there was this look on his face that tells me that we feel the same.
"Just get over with it, man."
"Millions of spirits from Hell wants to take your body."
And that's where it all started.
