Sprawling leaves, restless wind. The hill tops seemed unending and the skyline ever reaching, thick and full trees were living in abundance. Snippets of the unseen cackling, and incessant crowing looming shadows dropped overhead- Flying by in mass, awaiting the dead and soon to be creatures of bleak and rotting... The air was thin, unusually so a creeping maze of bushes, branches and marsh quietly crept. A tormenting place. A place of false solitude, as I climbed the mountain, to the depths of despair and hatred. It called me, and I let it. And unknowingly, I had grown accustom to the soft touches of cold...

I dredged, though the muck and grime! Unending it felt, it must've been. It was. I should've, could've I was naive. Without acting and without the will to do so, death was a certainty... I should have, but I didn't. And maybe her words would have been different.

...

In a plant filled decor, a lone figure sat perched at a table's edge... Ceron pursed his lips, looking towards the bed in silence. Deep motion slid behind his eyes, calling to something. But to what? Alluded perhaps even him, the book from Reedrick sat in his lap, haphazardly open with a few pages torn. The book caused some worrying thoughts, even in it's rustic and ambiguous writing. Had time passed far past him? Ceron pained the thought, it hadn't a mention of his name or stature. Only of this betrayer, was all that he had done swept by the sand of time and shadows by others masking the light? ... "Change.. Just how much?" Ceron cruised on this, as he put the book up and grabbed his black coat slipping it on.

He had to know, "Do my tomb's still lay under foot?" Ceron drew a concerning look. But soon relaxed, if not he could still find solace. Be it, two new toys to play it. And another, perhaps this world's ignorance is just what he needs... Ceron feeling his body the ache of regeneration had gone. Yet joy couldn't settle not now, the body was fragile, and just by being Ceron could tell, normal methods would most likely not work... Taping into his magical being would require measures- Maybe life threatening.

Ceron smiled although a little small. A good conquest didn't come easy, something about it made him bubble in anticipation. It was an otherworldly feeling he hadn't felt in a long while. Flush with vigor Ceron exited the room, closing the door behind himself. The hallway remained as it ever was, twisting and bending in unique directions, a trio of students jerked their heads as Ceron locked the door. Giving him looks of disdain, normally that would be asking for a new hole in the head but he hadn't the time. Ceron shrugged off the leering gazes as he once more met the lobby room.

The market portal had ceased, as Ceron suspected it would be difficult to maintain such a gate without any glaring powerful source; And regarding the lack of people he saw, there wasn't a need for it to be always prevalent... Immersed in thought, and intent of leaving Ceron headed for the door, just as he held the handle light tapping came... Heels? Turning back, a woman stood at the lobby staircase looking indifferent with arms crossed. It was Carolin. The woman who nearly snuffed Beth's life, and intentionally or not had given Ceron opportunity. Partially in his view, her aura was clear still- I didn't sense her, was she standing there mere moments ago? No.. I checked, I thought I did. Ceron perplexed at that, but taken at half measure it shouldn't come at a surprise.

Nay, it called to more a nagging inferiority of his own ability, he needed to develop himself and fast... That's why I must know, does it still live... Or has it been plucked, withered from time? Elrax. It had to be. Disregarding his seeds of worry, Ceron took to the door moving his gaze from Carolin and twi-..

"Asriel yes?" A soft voice. Carolin moved, by the door's side shocking Ceron his face drew wide as he fell two steps back. Ceron gasped, but sound didn't follow, as if his vocals were too reeling in surprise. "Oh.. I didn't startle you, did I? Honestly..." Carolin said in a nasty expression, Ceron focused as her words invaded. Her soft words and ugly expression betrayed one another, "Fear biting at that throat?" Carolin chuckled a little, slowly walked around gauging Ceron's physique... It was instant, no it was faster- This woman.. Almost like teleported, did she?..

"Hmm... Amusing, how amusing but disgusting. To think, weak ones such as you dare step foot in this place. Hmm, Well the standards seemingly have dropped. Haven't they?" In ridicule Carolin showed a pouting face, Ceron's tongue laid back... It was intense, I.. can barely move. FOCUS... Ceron cursed, as he relaxed his muscles and tried to clear his mind of worry and doubt. It was a battle of the mind, "You're... not wrong. Weakness is sin." Ceron said, in controlled breaths. Ceron cleared his mind, as he spoke eye of the storm, a deep calm as he exhaled. His eyes became more rigid, as he regained footing.

Tsk... "It is worm." Carolin's expression twisted, slightly and huffed in amusement. "Well. worm, off with you before my sight grows even more scorn for you- Maybe do me a favor.. And die out there, actually my eyes might like that." Full of pride Carolin lastly spoke in a disgusting smile, gave an burst of malice before turning to walk away. That boy had a firm gaze, hmph, perhaps the depth of his power is the same empty space between his ears. Carolin snickered in thought.

No power whatsoever, meek as a dried up fish. Still.. Still... Carolin snapped her finger, as she pulled out a mirror reflecting Asriel's image; He may be more than a simpleton, he after-all concealed that boy in the hallway. Not that it's of any concern, that boy had attacked him even if under influence, it is just.

She should just kill these insignificant wastes of space, but as a "evaluator" what would that make her? A guide to death? Carolin couldn't fathom her duty, once she had swelled with anticipation. But the times certainly have passed, and not for the better. Weak... Just so weak, these new batch of recruits weren't deserving of being called even that.

Survival of the fittest, Ceron still focused as she left. This town, it doesn't escape that notion, like a den of wolves I've carelessly trampled on their sought after dinner... "I need more than a mere dagger..." Ceron could only muster that strength doesn't come overnight; a supplement still could only go so far. It was beyond doubt, the magical academy is a must- "Death to those who wait, death to those who can't push and grasp the strands of time. I won't bend, break under this familiar demon of pressure. By my hands I'll extend beyond, what I ever was before..."

...

Trails of wind caressed the skin, it was welcoming, even still after a horrid stench that quickly follow suit. Black plumes gushed from strange carriages, carrying the smell of decay and rotting with each whiff. Ceron curled his nose, it would have dissuade him from the main street if not for the particulars of the machine's design. Intertwining cogs and gears, strange shape and no horse; What's more there seemed to be no magic at work, chemical and mechanical it was. Fascinating... Ceron spotted numerous strange machines, and alike just by the sidewalk, more than he had previously even if not holding up to the magical beauty of creation like flying gliders or fat dirigible's it still captured eye.

With the years passed now dwelling, it was plain to Ceron the knowledge of the world changed greatly. Could what he had been an expert in, time turned him into a mere novice? Frowning but, slightly joyous at the height off new peeks there was more to know...

Again as he had done many times during his inspection of the area, Ceron calmed his mind and breathed deep. Similar to that of meditation, his heart rate lowered as Ceron began to walk faster in more shallow breaths. A form of training, after a brisk distance- Ceron gasped, reaching for air as his lungs retracted and expanded. Sweat rolled down in pellets, "Reached my limit..." In a tired voice Ceron clutched his knees, attempting to thin his breaths and increase stamina took it's toll. The human body had limits, no matter how hard Ceron wanted to push past he had reached all he could do for now.

...

From cobbled streets, muck filled alleyways and back again the curtains of dregs and false light of authority and nobility prancing by Ceron covered tens of town blocks. Coming into what could only be considered as a district of food, oh so merrily people left and came filled with brimming sacks and eager faces of joy rooted. All except of-course the dirt filled rabble, begging for scraps in worn out rags old rattled and young innocence turned mostly rabid. In broad daylight, the sun shone bright still its warmth didn't welcome all and their backs.

Ceron couldn't help but pity the children who bumped into him, likely trying to pick anything of worth from his pockets. Whether good or not, everything of value held in a tight satchel by his waist side hell. Feeling his pocket Ceron only felt the upper part of his thigh, it was riddled with holes. Not counting his new dagger that hung from inside his coat... It looked pretty, but that's all it was. The craftsmanship was purely aesthetic and the blade brittle still it could be traded to someone perhaps dimwitted..-

"YOU..GUTTER SWINE." Battered and bruised, a thin lump hung from a fat man's tightening grip. Like a sack that had sagged, the small figure's legs went limp as it helplessly dangled; Then with a shout, crack busted the cobbled street. Holding a bitten apple, the man angrily shouted profanity, chugging it at the motionless body. With the ending thud, only a shallow whimper came the figure, and it's fur bloodied had lost the will to move. Showing a belly that stuck to bone, the mutt had clearly been starved. Though the commotion, another deathly thin figure ran clutching the fallen mutt's body.

A small boy no older than that of ten, sun-baked his skin reflected that of a peeling snake. Clutching the mutt only seemed to anger the fat man, despite the attempt the boy's feeble arms looked akin to a twig. It was a sad sight, still not many if at all, paid heed to the ongoing display. It wasn't their problem, why should they help the defenseless and weak, who could do nothing more than cower and quiver? Someone of no worth, no value, a space much wasted on society, a flea infested mule could fit better.

With protest, the merchant unstrapped his belt tightening it around his fist. And like a whip pelted the trembling boy, red scuff marks and cries was the retort. The man seemed elated, his attire exquisite and his plentiful apples precious, couldn't stand the sight thieving criminals mucking his high establishment. It appalled him, these gutter trash dare steal from his goods! Scorn, hatred was present in each motion the man made.. Ceron huffed, perhaps a little hypocritically would he have done the same? Ceron didn't care, maybe this once... The tide would shift. Weakness is only passing to those who hold merit.

Ceron hung by the crowd, unwatching they were of him and cries. And with that, in a quick motion Ceron grabbed blade lining his coat and flung it- With a crackle it snapped hanging rope above the man causing the unsuspecting oaf to fall back as the wooden roof collapsed knocking over his stall, fruits and meats rolled. And like a swarm of flies, numerous starved children took to the food and the fallen boy, mutt with hope and desperation of a meal. Ceron released a small laugh seeing the man tremble to his feet with shrinking eyes at the sight, his food swimming in muck.

Looking to the now split in half dagger, Ceron paused happily not counting on it for anything of importance... The meager bartering worth it had was negligible. A small thud tapped, interrupted an apple merrily rolled, "Ah.." Picking it up Ceron cleaned off the dirt, took a bite. It was rich and sweet, an acceptable reward, "Now. Where where.. is a store that sells maps..." Saying that with a half filled mouth Ceron walked past the food stalls, advancing into the unknown labyrinth of streets and corridors once more.

...

"..Interesting." A low voice spoke, watching a youth eating an apple casually walk past. Huffing in regret for not intervening before this boy, the figure slid back into the crowd's embrace. In regards of right the youth had acted in what he would, but it was not his business. My.. Claws seek a much bigger prey, a row of sharp teeth keenly plastered all over their face.. Pulling out a sheet of parchment, with listings of names and warrants.

...

Like that of a sharpened blade, keen on surroundings; In each stride Ceron let none of it escape him. To The best of his ability, it was straining but it had to be done, utilizing his newly found body and toning it for the endeavors to come. Though the sea of shifting people, the crowd of Freywyn had nearly no end. It was indeed a hub of popularity-... But soft murmurs occurred, eavesdropping in every other step it was clear a dread took the citizens. Talk of an ominous and ever raging storm, ravaging the land and scorning any to have seen it to fates worse than death, rising of undead armies and chosen lords of shadow waging destruction to mortal realms.

The clamoring had no end, and didn't seem to let up as Ceron heard more unsettling things. The looming scythe is ever present, regardless of time... Chosen lords of shadow? Ceron hadn't known of anything of the like, though undead armies were nothing to slight, but it was something he was familiar with. And a raging storm talk of it hitting the outskirts of this town, not far from where I had been set free... Ceron tensed at that thought, had his revival been from a otherworldly phenomenon or controlled by some entity's whim? An unanswerable question, at least for now.

Another oddity kept its persistent looming presence. Entrenched from the cracked street to the clouds, swaying slightly gaudy coils in similar features to that of brass or bronze. To an almost menacing looking spire with a indiscernible top striking the sky... It was strange. What was it? Ceron hadn't a slightest notion, other than it being a hold of some kind as countless sky ships flew towards it- Hovered around it or simply docked at one of it's protruding arms. The building like monolith was obscuring, casting a ever present shadow that shifted to parts of the town depending on hour.

A few measured steps later, on the street's end came a shop window. Displaying general items, like flasks tools and other daily use equipment, but that didn't catch Cerons eye. Behind the window, into the building laid what looked like sketched maps and countless books. Perking up at the sight, Ceron strove towards the bricked building, "Finally, a general store I can see a proper map." Ceron said, pitifully remembering the ill-made scrap paper Reedrick had given him... The building seemed nothing too alluring, it seemed traditional, perhaps surprisingly so with the contrasting theme of marble white or bronze Ceron kept in his rear view. The high noon sky cast beautiful rays towards it, almost like a sign..

Going closer Ceron opened the door, with a slight creak akin to an alarm, made his presence known. And with a thud, the orderly shop was displayed. It held a rustic and peaceful aura as sunlight seeped in from arched sky-windows, wooden beams overhead. The interior was filled lined in shelves of assorted goods and the walls too in hanging arms, with attention to books and maps. There was a sweet smell, vanilla... Ceron took a deep breath walking around, much of it seemed in decent quality. However, the price and names alluded Ceron paused at that, drew attention to the maps which seemingly depicted a location he knew not off.

A visible expression creeped it's way onto Cerons face, it wasn't pleasant. As he held his chin, looking towards the map's inscription. Much of the language has changed... Though it's not of surprise, considering the amount of time that has passed; And my inability to read half of the signs displayed in the market center. Yet. with the usage of old tongue it mustn't be that big of an issue. Ceron softly contemplated-"Ahem"... Or would've kept-

Intruding a boyish voice spoke out from behind the counter. Well more, be it partially as the young lad's golden hair bopped, barely making the tables mark. Standing in a prestigious wobble, the boy cleared his throat giving a long silence with a drizzle of snot running down, "Been staring at that map huh?... Like many of my goods, stricken with that face of yours.." ...uhm, this boy. Giving ire, Ceron walked closer, "What of it?" Blunt the boy showed a clear sign of lament, huffing at the mere conversation, "Well you look stupid staring cross-eyed, what are you a soft skull?"... After that. Only what could be described as a heavenly decadence, nay a grace of god or perhaps an righteous act of mercy was performed. An audible twitch of emotion rose on Ceron as he stood without motion, eyed the lad's pretentious attitude.

Unfortunately for one it wasn't holy ground- N' a furious judgement Ceron clocked the little shit's head, pouting the boy held his throbbing bump, "You fuckard, where is the owner of this shop." Ceron said, slightly pleased at the boy's tense face... "That. Would be me." In a stagger, the boy spoke "Tal not fuckard." The boy finished, in a huff. Folding arms at Ceron stance, "Oho, Tal? Well.. BOY... You look a little too young, now get the owner out." ..Tal repositioned his brown shirt unmoving, "uhm.. Is it Really that much of a tale? To believe in my innocence. I truly truly am the owner of this establishment..." Tal drew closer looking over Ceron's body and attire, "And besides. You're barely older than me."

...

Taking sight of the boy's confident figure, maybe there was truth to it. Ceron contemplated, he had seen much stranger things hadn't he?... "Well then, perhaps so. Then let's talk business Tal." Just as uttered, a squeak sounded. A door opened behind the counter- In a swift motion an older figure it brought, and like Deja vu a large thump echoed. Firm and full of knuckle, a shaggy man bopped Tal's head. "Pardon my overbearing nephew here." The man plainly stated, leaned by the counter edge. And moreover, the boy shifted in anguish at his heads second coming, Ceron let a chuckle slip.

"What you laughing bout' you were on the ropes of his tall tale. Ain't some kind of soft skull are ya?"... Taken back, Ceron clenched his teeth. I..see where he gets it from. The man looked over Ceron with a rigid expression and testing gaze, and rather what his age might discern a robust aura settled around him. "Most call me Morgan, so what do you need..." Ending on invitation, "Asriel. And I can't tell half of these maps apart, much of the markings and writing is unknown to me.. Came from westward beyond the walls don't suppose you have a more traditional map of the city and area?.." Ceron spoke, only to be met with a huff and momentary pause.

Rubbing at his scuffled chin Morgan drew a mild grin, "mm, an out-lander... The western isle is indeed remote." Morgan continued, while shuffling for papers lying neath the countertop-Ah hauling in an assortment of parchment and rolls, which seemed to have held years under belt with visible grit and fading. "Truth be told, I had pegged ye for one of those snobby lots-.. Coughing Morgan clenched his chest and immediately lost his overbearing stature. "A.h.. excuse me."

Ceron swayed his head, "No its fine, I'm used to people choking at my sight." Pulling a smile, Morgan huffed. He's an odd one... "Not much doubt, an out-lander like you would be at loss with these new inscriptions... Assuming you recently arrived, the lord sorcerer has been steadily adapting his nation's native tongue oppressing our more traditional teachings..." Morgan spat, growing tense at the latter half. "Dammed shit, ever since been causing me customers to lose face. Laugh or not, your about the third only to walk past in this moon's quarter."

Interjecting the solemn air Tal stuck out his tongue at Ceron, before running off behind the room' side door. Troubled kid.. Morgan reluctantly thought, it was to be expected after all..."Sorry, about that he's been acting out after being in my rushed care two weeks past." Morgan whispered with a horrid eyes, seeing the lad's unease before him.. Scratching his head Ceron eyed Morgan, whatever happened wasn't anything pretty. The world is an unforgiving place, easily sweeping desire and snuffing out dreams or.. families in a blink. Pursing his lips, Ceron motioned to the worn map. "So these are of the immediate area?"

Morgan nodded, "Of course." Taking count, the map detail and structure was vastly in contradiction, to the ones displayed at wall-side and shelving... Ceron couldn't help but elate at the markings readability. Beyond the surface, finer details stuck out could it be? The geography was distorted, but seemingly identical to his recollection. Names may differ but. The form and shape, this place must be where I was sealed. It wasn't some far-gotten unknown region, just the masking of time and steel of man. Using the city map as reference with the geography, my lost companion awaits.

If the back route is still viable, I'll have an easy way in... "How much for the designs and area map?" Ceron said almost giddy-like, as if some basket case was pulling him like a puppet. Or, that's what Morgan thought perplexed at the youths sudden infatuation with his map. Strange, more a surge of goosebumps ran down, akin to a leering gaze of a hungry beast... "u-hm. Both would be thirty-two silver and fifteen copper." Morgan spoke haphazardly. Physical coin, something rather lacking. But... Feeling satchel waist side Ceron poked for a magic rune, it had to be barted- Third of a crystal should be more than some.

Smiling, Ceron quietly snapped the brittle rune rock inside his bag before it met light. "Maybe an exchange?" With a tap the crystal sat on the countertop, slightly stunned before going to grab the rune morga-, Pulling back Ceron snatched it. Meeting Morgan's tense eyes. "This isn't some gracious tip out of the kindness of my heart, I need the rest in equivalent coinage." Finishing Ceron put it back, was met with a firm nod. "That is doable... Sir Asriel." Reaching under the counter Morgan pulled out a pair of lenses. That seemed laughably out of place, fitting at a small form among Morgan's vast face.

...

With precision, the semi-translucent crystal chunk was in full display. And like an idol piece, or fine gold jewelry Morgan held it with a careful eye and inquisitive posture, ... Silver linings and hues of greenish blue, rough and unpolished and judging by the glaring specks of material it was fairly low grade. Oddly satisfied at that, Morgan thought normally a higher grade would be something to pray for- But it totally was out of range, of any means he could muster in a exchange of physical coin. Still, this meager volume has value; it had an aptitude towards water and earth elements, so it was more than just a catalyst of raw power.

Scratching his brow Morgan put down the crystal, "An elemental low grade rune, rough and unpolished with obvious metal intertwined. I'll give you four gold for it." Finishing with a cough Morgan, slightly shifted towards the back room in anticipation- Four Gold!?.. Ceron almost choked, nearly blurted out at his surprise, normally such a rune would be triple that. What is this dealer's game?.. Instinctively Ceron straightened his back, "That's an awful low price isn't it?" Visibly distressed Ceron's poker face hadn't alluded much. Morgan pulled a concerning look, slightly chuckled. "I knew I liked you, it would make sense. I would act the same way if I wasn't a resident of Freywyn." .."What do you mean?" Ceron replied anxiously, was there a critical error he overlooked?

"The gate guards should've told you. The currency rate in Freywyn changed, well actually it happened nearly two years ago with new.. Tariffs and other trade bans... Four would be about ten in earlier exchange." Morgan spoke all the while shuffling towards the back room, bringing out a small pouch. "And that is not accounting the abundance in supply, runes are in droves due to the new mining operations and relic sites in the south quarter." Quelling surprise Ceron exhaled, "I wouldn't know..Outsider that I am, in what you speak is a true or not should I just take your word for face value?" "Well.. I can see your concern, ask any wandering guard after-all I'm here till sundown everyday." Morgan said with a smug expression.

This bastard.. I like him. Ceron couldn't help but think, this man had a familiar aura around him. "No. I'll take the deal." Ceron finished and extended his arm which Morgan smiled in acceptance, shook hands with a firm grip. And with a thunk Morgan dumped the pouch, "Deducting the map's that would be three gold and seven and half silver." Graciously accepting the coin Ceron slipped it into his satchel, and did so with the maps as he rolled them back up. "It has been a pleasure-" Striking a thought Ceron paused, other than an aimless direction this Morgan seems, a decent head. "Any quality craftsmanship, or armoring guilds of value near? Regrettably lost my set last fall to a group of goblins." Ceron softly spoke, "In favor of something other than my bare fist or gaudy club."

G-hm... Tapping the counter Morgan shrugged hurriedly and rubbed his upper thigh, "I'm afraid that amount won't due, if you're planning on paying that is. The stakes are raised, and undoubtedly they would be. It would take a fool not to notice, and I'm sure you've seen, and heard the common folk bubble about. Fear of the undead or worse, some calling it the second rift as such the demand of weaponry has skyrocketed.".. Makes sense, still I have over a half a rune and another full. Ceron idly contemplated, Morgan gestured closer, "Asriel, I myself was once a spry lad, maybe not so thin but... I had my days."

"Wait here for a moment." Morgan finished, walked with a gait to the back room door as the wooden flooring ever so softly spoke with incessant creaks at each step. It's been a while... Morgan muttered to himself opening the door and with a thud something dropped, wafting dust clogged his face. Pulling on the handle Morgan skittered a metal chest along the floor leaving faint scratch marks in his wake. Tired, sweaty Morgan wiped his forehead as he brought the chest into a closer view. It was strikingly old, just like much of his other wares and map's a thick layer of grime and dust was rooted in every rotted crevice of wood. Only held viable by the scarred metal frame, it seemed as if abandoned. Forgotten and left to decay.

Undoing the latch, Morgan pulled out a set of wrapping and an ambiguous cloth covering something dropping. In a few strides piled it onto the countertop, "I was once an adventurer I know the trouble it brings..." Morgan simply said, with a hint of sorrow in his voice.. Unwrapping what he brought, after the settling dust an assortment of daggers and longer blades- "They aren't pretty, or high grade barely functional as they are but can be very-well practical if taken care off." ... Removing the second covering of cloth a set of light mail that seemed in a much better condition, the traces of grime and rust present on the blades was gone, or well the rust part that is.

Antiquity would be putting it best, "You're selling these?" Ceron instantly said, giving a fair thought particularly on the mail and perhaps a salvageable blade. Five ordinary looking daggers, a single arming sword with a basket hilt and a plain short sword... They were far from anything remarkable, and I would prefer a longer blade. "You can take as they are free of charge, the whole set including the mail. Or you could pay upfront five silver and come back. I'll restore them for you in a day's time." ...A generous offer, Ceron perplexed the man was more nice than he initially thought, what caused him to change tune? "This is beyond a welcoming position you put me in Morgan, but I must ask. Why?"

Wearing a stern expression Morgan lightly nodded and stepped back, his aura turned ashen like an inescapable chasm, seemingly the room darkened. Slowly Morgan pulled up his trouser legs, "You see... I'm not as nimble as I once was. A sword by the hip would only show my foolishness." Scarred, from the kneecap down his legs were gone, severed only a lump laid and cheap looking prosthetics with wooden frames bending under Morgan's weight. Chaotic the scarring looked as if claws or a serrated edge gnawed bit by bit without end.

Struck in surprise Ceron reeled back. It was indeed a jarring sight, yet the man's deformity wasn't the main shock. True was whatever dread happened wouldn't be too slight but.. Morgan masked his condition nearly perfectly, besides small missteps I had accounted for age. His skill in hiding it, or my own lacking in noticing it..."I'm sorry, I don't mean to put yourself out like a bearded woman." Morgan merely shrugged in response, "Don't give it thought, Sir Asriel you are not the first nor last who will let curiosity grab them..."

After a brief exchange Morgan watched the black haired youth leave, grimaced rubbing his upper thigh. Stay safe... He pleaded once more.

...

Pitter patter, pitter patter, gushing and flowing a croaking creek settled among the marsh and damp rocks. Hidden beyond a veil of dense brush and thickets of trees. Glistening, it's fluidity evident by sunlight and underlying fish scurrying about in the murk-less water. Birds chirped, wind sang and an inviting smell of vanilla from not so distant blossoms. In other words serene a perfect place to lay... Intruding upon the calm, a set of metal clanks and hurried voices- "Hey hey,"... V-voices? Hmhm.. It can't be.. Tricks tricks they play..

Coughing, a figure laid tattered his body irreversibly scarred. Glaringly apparent by the decrepit state of his lower half and lingering trail of dirt and grime. I'm sorry.. No.. NO No-NO.. The figure gripped his head, eyes wide and deprived. After all the horror, it-itfinally pushed me. No,No.. Not that not that at all- Those abominations, in vain the man screamed, his dry mouth gaping at the sky it didn't call back. This place, so so pristine after everything the man chuckled, his life was meaningless... All had happened, was like it had never even had.

How can this place be so clean?...So tranquil, seven nights- Seven infernal hellish days, dancing about oh dancing about aha.aha.aah a.a dancing dancing dancing!!! Their claws and nails so delight, oh I watch and watch, day and night! Ha Ho Ha He, wife, children and friend oh so glee! Bit by bit, tear by tear and chastity beware!- Crack, Whats that?! Crackling thicket, them? Could no-NO noo NO.. I CANT LET THEM. In a craze the man bashed his head repeatedly, soon barring blood and more trophies adorned, oh oh, .. WACK.. WACK... -

In hurried steps a woman ran from wayside, passed the thicket and creak, extending her hand to a motionless pile of bruise and red... Her white attire sullied by the man's blood, "SISTER OVER HERE!" The woman frantically screamed, subtly raising the man's split head... "Hold on.." she said worriedly, clutching her cross mumbling indiscernible prayer.