Men are marvelous creatures. Give them wings and they would want to tear the sky. Give them immortally and they would kill everyone to free them from the mortal world. Give them anything in your power, but they would still seek for more.
But give them a heart and a pure soul, and they would make you feel loved.
They can make you so happy that you would want to fly.
They can make you feel like you are meant to live forever.
They can make you feel as if you have it all.
But sometimes, it's hard to diagnose whether someone has a heart or not; whether their soul is pure or as dark as the night.
But this doesn't go for everyone. There are always exceptions.
Just like Adam Peterson; a handsome boy of twenty-one. One look at him and you'd see his pure soul through his blue eyes, just like a window to the heaven.
A simple life was all Adam ever desired and he tried his best to flee from anything that didn't seem ordinary.
His life was normal, until he met her.
A woman as beautiful as her name.
Her pallid smooth skin shined under the moon, her lips were as red as blood, and her eyes glimmered even when the lights were dim.
Adam thought that, that woman was the reason that his life changed.
But he was wrong.
Despite his own imagination, Adam's life wasn't ordinary from the beginning, even though he thought it was.
His life wasn't meant to be normal.
He thought his life was typical, because he was oblivious to the existence of a prophecy. The prophecy of doom, which had the power to reign a great chaos across every being and everything that was measured in blood.
Adam was oblivious to the fact that he was the key to something that could end it all.
Or better say, begin it all.
"I took you at thy word. So speak, woman! Speak!" Irene chided the hag, whose face had been wounded by time's knife; full of old wrinkles.
"I know naught, child." Replied the old woman, feebly. "It doesn't work that way."
"I'll make it work, at any measure." Irene hissed. "So if it means killing you, then I shall do so."
"A witch's fortune comes when it's meant to. Kill me if you shall. But then you'd never know."
Irene's teeth started gritting harshly against each other.
"Thousands of years it's been. Thousand years of teen and pain. I'll get what I want, hag. I'm going to release him, one day. When he's free again, he will burn down every single breathing creature that had stopped him. And I will be rewarded for my loyalty. I'm going to free him again. Even if I shall wait one thousand years more."
Afterwards, rapping her night-colored cloak around herself, Irene turned around to leave. But she stopped in her tracks as she heard a sound.
The sound of someone struggling for air and breathing furiously.
So Irene turned around immediately, facing the hag. The old witch had her fingers rapped around her neck and was breathing heavily, as if no air was left.
And then, she closed her eyes. But after she opened them again, her both eyes had turned completely black, and when she spoke, it was as if a man in pain was speaking.
And so she spoke;
"It shall be on the night that souls crack, tears run, and thunders weep the light.
The morn shall beam and noon shall burn and the dead flee to walk the night.
The clocks will rehearse, to and fro,
when the lady of the night arise.
As she unites all the purest souls alive,
the sinister of the dark would rise.
So he will force a new era to produce,
For all hell is about to break loose."
When she was done, the old lady took her last breath in the mortal world, and died just as easily as one can fall asleep.
But that didn't bother Irene at all.
In fact, it made her smile so cunningly, as to she had found the way to fulfill the mission that she was created to fulfill in the first place.
She was going to release her immortal master...
The God of the dead.