Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Persephone opened her eyes only to find herself in front of a grand mirror, her familiar reflection was surrounded by butterflies and she held a sword high and straight in her right hand, a crown the same shade of molten gold as her blood resting heavily on her head. She had become the Queen of Swords, her green eyes alight with wisdom and malice.
She blinked once and when her eyes opened again she found herself in darkness. Not the familiar comforting darkness, but an all encompassing suffocating darkness, all she could feel around her was dirt. Clawing frantically upwards, Persephone tried not to choke from the lack of air — finally her had burst through the ground like a sprouting flower, the cold night air blowing against the skin of her hand as she tried to drag herself from her grave. Suddenly another hand clasped her and pulled her from the ground, falling into the arms of the stranger as she emerged from the dirtied earth she found herself staring into the eyes of an angel — he was holding her with one arm whist his other hand held a trumpet. His face didn't look completely realistic, he almost looked like a painting for a moment and then she blinked and he was replaced by another man.
Before her stood the Emperor in all his imposing glory. His face was stern and vaguely familiar, but she could not place it. He spun her around until her back rested against his chest, his hand clasping around her throat as he forced her to stare at the sight before her. They appeared to be in the woods, countless paths stretching out in the trees around them, along with seven cups that rested precariously at the beginning of each path. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the bejewelled cup that had a snake slithering around it.
The grip on her throat disappeared as fast as it had appeared along with the cups and the paths. The threes appeared to be thicker now — not a single path in sight as she spun around it a frantic circle. Persephone jumped in fright when a figure appeared in a mist of black smoke before her.
Persephone squinted at the figure, they were dressed head to toe in black garbs, a long black veil completely obscuring their face — or whatever they had under the veil. They dropped the flag they had been carrying at the feet of Persephone, who gazed curiously at the symbols, a white, five-petal rose; representing beauty, purification and immortality. Along with the the number five representing change. She did not need to see under the veil to understand who this was.
It was death.
Death hissed out their next words in a raspy familiar voice, "The boy will begin his flight from death before the world turns to summer, to join his companion in a never ending race from death. And when the time comes that the sky is coloured brightly at night, a foolish choice shall cause the world to plunge into a new era of darkness. The Dark Lord and his lady shall reign eternally."
