After a fatal car accident, 23-year-old Nyla Cuttwright finds herself brought back from the dead after a strange encounter with a haunting voice that promises her a new fate.
Her second chance at life begins with the discovery that she has a new bod...
++++ "To me, you are still nothing more than a little boy who is just like a hundred thousand other little boys. And I have no need for you. And you, on your part, have no need for me. To you I am nothing more than a fox like a hundred thousand other foxes. But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you shall be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world..." ++++
-The Little Prince, Antoine De Saint-Exupery
∞∞∞
The darkened sky held the sinister presence of Lady Moon, ruler of all those who hunted in the night. It was she who illuminated the softest brush of a lover's mouth and the cold glint of a dagger in a lover's heart. She was ruler of whimsical dreams, and of haunting nightmares. She watched over the animals who hunted, and the ones who fell prey. She had once stood watch over the empty grave of Man, as He dug a hole in front of her. It was He who asked Her, "Who must lay in this eternal tomb for in which I dig?"
The Woman of the Moon tilted her head, Her eyes were not quite seeing, but they knew all that was there to know in the world. A corner of Her lip tilted upward in the barest glint of a smile, her expression cold and merciless.
A soft, haunting voice, one that sounded of the night breeze whispering through the woods, whispered in His ear. You dig a grave for all humanity, and their greed that will be unleashed upon the world. And when you are finished, you will guide only those who greed no more.
He, who digs the hole for all those greedy in life created a hole wide and deep enough to swallow the world, deeper still to fill with the burning hatred of death. Death that would end all sins of greed in anyone such as you and me. And when He was done, He slew himself upon a black sword and bled the ichor of a god into the great chasm, until the golden ocean was filled to the brim.
and He becomes Death.
∞∞∞
A single figure stood atop a throne of bones, which gleamed white in the darkness on a hill above the camp. The figure was a large silver lupine mass, looking down at the clearing below him. He was silent, and frozen in place as the wicked howls of the werewolves below them feasted on prey of all shapes and sizes. Bonfires lit up the night, burning pieces of fat on the dead flesh of prey caught during the day.
There were small groups of wolves who stood around the food, cackling and cursing into the night breeze. A larger group surrounded a bloody and broken wolf that belonged to a pack. The pack wolf was being tortured, his screams of pain and sobs music to the ears of all who came to the gathering. At the top of the hill, The Leader watched the man plead and beg for his life with a stony expression, doing nothing to encourage or stop them.
Those surrounding the man laughed at his torture, yips of excitement ringing out as the man was tortured and beaten to death. In front of the kneeling and sobbing pack wolf, they were powerful. The power that the rogues held was only due to the power of The Leader, who came to them 13 years ago and was able to kill the previous leader within 5 seconds.
