The waft of the ferocious wind tore through the Dark lord's mind. Dangerous moss and scarlet eyes blazed with contempt and thick eyelashes glared from the pale darkness. Heavy eyelashes gleaned cloak from their scarce surroundings. His masked skin wreathed in shadow colors. His chiseled face. Hawk-like nose and fine long raven hair swirling around from behind. However, his rigid body was threatened with frost. And his elegant hands tremble. He seemed unmoved, yet his eyes tell tales of hundreds of decades gone by. His hatred lurking as the shadowy trees that silence the breeze in the Land of the Moon.
The Land of the Moon was not a very welcoming place, with Anxiety, Grief, Hunger, Fear, Agony, and Death awaiting whoever dare to venture inside the frigid land. The entrance was also guarded by the Sandjinns. Their duty was to keep the captives from leaving the Land of the Moon.
However, to get inside, the spirits would first need to be hauled across the a
"Why? Why do you hate the Mark so much?" She asked, her forehead furrowed. The sun blooms on the horizon, golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue. It was the brilliant flower of the sky that warms this frigid land. It was the invitation to a new day, that sunrise so typical yet Catherine's eyes embrace the sunrise, that iris of fire so pretty in it was a mascara of pristine light."Oh, such a sweetheart, do you think I hate him just because my father chooses him to be the Mark? You are mistaken, dear." He retorted, his mouth set in a hard line, and he gritted his teeth."Yes." She went poker-faced."No, little one. He took everything from me." His eyes burned with resentment. He strode after hearing her brief answer. His eyes slowly opened and looked at her, Catherine light-brown pupils were turning to green, and she can't help but felt a slight shiver run through her skin as she watches his eyes turned to bright gleam red. H
"Queenie, what do you suggest that we do next?""Well, do you have the three prophecy coins?""Yes""Then they will tell you what to do.""I don't understand... Catherine trailed off... taking out the coins in her pocket. "There was nothing in here, I mean..." observing it."Catherine you need to look at it with your mind, not with your eyes.""How would I do that?""I don't know you're the Mark, so I guess it will come to you, I'm not even allowed to touch it. But let your focus bring that prophecy to your mind, to yourself, to your loved ones, to the Land of Nod. For the luck of one is the luck of all. The journey of one is the journey of all. And within that, free your mind, free yourself and follow your Mark-given path."Silence followed."When you concentrate on that objective and plan when you learn to seek yourself for real." Queenie trailed off. Her pupil dilated."What is your intention, what is your quest? A
A wintry wind stroked across the mountainside with a rawness that gave rise to one's soul into the gentle cloud-filtered rays. The icy breeze comes sometimes quiet, sometimes loud, yet ever with a chill that brings a crispness to the day.Ten of hundreds of people and creatures running around in a panic, packs of soldiers fighting a desperate battle to stay alive, invaders running rampant, killing, and tearing each other apart. Any attempts at bringing order were ended with threats of death.This was also the territory where the last of the resistance hold out. Loyal King Anjo's soldiers wouldn't want to see the heart of their land murdered, so they fought to the death to protect their king. Then chaos builds until no one knows what's going on and the only thing left to do was run away trying to keep themselves and a few others alive, or stand their ground and die as the land burns around them with anger and cries of the dead.
“How lovely, such stupid mortal.Even as they fought, swiveled in the snow, sprang, fled, and rolled at tremendous speed, with her launch she wasn't tiring, yet she felt something inside her surge. It was a vigor that scorched through resentment and anguish, something that took over the rage, the threat of logic and reason. She was powerful. She was the daughter of the fire, that reason implied.She was injured, losing strength, she could feel the pain twinge, she knew dimly that she was losing blood and lots of it, enough that she should be close to incapacitated, her courage and strength rush again, she never felt this way before, but she was also never this close to death either.Catherine allowed herself to go wild, let the fire consumed her heart, and wash over the last willful part of her spirit that still battled for intention and restraint. With the predator unleashed, Catherine ripped into the creatures as if they were just like a piece of meat,
Catherine felt nothing, yet she did not flinch as she took him apart. She did not feel his potent shadows; she did not even wince; She became animalistic, her eyes were blazing and finally, she summons her fire from the dept of her soul, she engulfed him until he was nothing but ashes. She was untouchable, like an island of the lantern in a murky sea of turmoil, and she thanked her good achievement that, out of all the people who wanted him dead, she was the one to finally bring him to his knees. Furthermore, she heard a whisper, “Catherine, please come back, please come back to me. He's dead, he won't hurt us again, come on love, fight it, battle for us, fight for our future.” Something caught to her mind, something comforting voice that ripped through the twilight mist in her mind, it brought her back from the edge of darkness. Everyone she had move again, yet no one moved. She held the strength so powerful that no one dared approach her. Even the birds in the trees and essence
The half-moon hung flat on a wintry night in the Cold Mountains. Giving no hint of the bloodshed to come. But in this icy, barren territory, I felt it wash over my skin, the brisk wintry blast, simply to be greeted by the rhythm of my heart, repeatedly and again. However, everyone froze as he drew his sword. Its sharpness would injure the air apart from him. Pressing down with his power and superior strength, he dragged the blade backward towards her face. When she least expects it, he knocks the blade from her grasp until it lands just unreachable. He steered his elbow into her face, almost knocking her unconscious. He gets to his feet, standing over her. The tilt of the sword is pointed towards her heart in both hands-on grips. He plunges the sword into her rib cage. She gasped for air. The sound of a sword being drawn from a scabbard signaled her end. Something about his eyes captured m
The door slapped open at the exact moment. And it surprised Catherine to see him there. The man from earlier She'd tried her hardest to keep a poker face on. She was a professional, after all, and she had seen worse. It would not phase her. His smile vanished, giving her a piercing look that had her freezing in her spot. Did he remember her? She didn't have to contemplate that long for the answer since he took her grips and pulled her in. "Why the hell are you here?" he exclaimed. I'm a..." Catherine stuttered. She would've taken up the challenge had he not been rushing. He grinned, slashing her off as she peeled her palms from his grasp. "You work here?" Frowning, they both went to the table as Catherine brought back the brown manila envelope she'd forgotten from yesterday's meeting. "Yes, and can you please let me go?" She asked. She will not swerve like all the others. Catherine thinks she recognized him from somewhere else now that she can see him w
She saw a coin, an ancient-looking hand covered in dirt, the engravings worn and the head so stained from time. She held it in her left hand, staring at the mud that was dirtying her skin. Flipping it over and over. so close to her face that the coin had the aroma of musty blood and rustiness. She turned to her right palm and in the midst of the seizing was a new cloverleaf, fresh and beautiful. And as far as Catherine could remember, according to Irish tradition, those who found a four-leaf growth were destined for good luck, as each petal in the clover symbolizes good omens for faith, hope, love, and luck for the finder. A perfect sphere of clique dew crowned the leaf, reflecting a picture of Catherine's face: grated and peaceful, yet the sadness was recognizable. When she flipped back the coin, the form of the mysterious man had freed himself and journeyed over to the cloverleaf, stirring the growth of a powerful root and even blurrin