Prologue

9 1 1
                                    

   A metallic aroma teased my nose and tempted my wild thirst. My initial confusion was washed away by the fiery hunger that took control of both my body and mind. I inhaled once more and let my mouth imagine the coppery taste of whatever was making this beautifully irresistible smell. I wildly looked around the dark dungeon for the source of the smell. There; near the gray wall lay a crumpled figure resembling that of a body surrounded by a pool of blood. A smile carved its way through my face. The blood smelled fresh, and the small puddle of blood kept growing as the corpse bled itself dry. In some cultures, it is said that fallen food not picked up after three seconds is licked and cursed by the devil. Laughter escaped my mind, this silly superstition was false. However, I counted a good ten seconds before I helped myself to my snack, and as I drank every last drop, I felt the devil's lips kiss my own and whisper into my ear: You are ready...
   Satisfied with the red coppery liquid that soothed my aching thirst and hunger, I stood up and began to stretch my wings. My raven black wings extended until a soft moan of satisfaction escaped my lips. I closed my eyes and saw a beautiful white wings flutter across my vision. They were so familiar...
A tear fled my eye as the last white feather slowly fell from my right wing and landed on the corpse. Looking closer, my mind identified the corpse to be that of a man. His brown hair was matted with blood and his empty green eyes looked through me...
    I began to weep, although I felt nothing but rage and hunger inside of me. My bloody lips betrayed me and took on a life of their own.
    "Ignosce mihi, o Pater"
    Forgive me, Father

Made of StoneWhere stories live. Discover now