Chapter 1. The beginning of the end


Her eyes had been born of youth everlasting, her features were fresh and exotic. Her flesh was like that of a newborn child, silken and unblemished. Smooth and alluring to the touch, but that same touch was one of fire and very few could withstand such a blaze. This was the portrait of none other than Bleed. A strange name you could say, for such a youthful child of one, but it was the spirits that had come forth and bared the name upon her.
She stood at the top of a rocky path with another, Tristen. He also had the awkward figure of a youth, however he was different from the usual young. With just a glace of the eye, one could tell he was in a weak state and that his right leg from birth was crippled. Shuffling forwards a few inches, he turned to Bleed and whispered, “Why are they’re hearts not beating like before?” “They must be sleeping my brother, lets not wake them and wait till the morning” Bleed softly spoke back.
In front of them laid the charred and smoking remains of what would have been a herd of equines. A total of twenty bodies lay in the churning ashes. For they, were the victims of the harsh weather conditions of the plains. Although, this was a common sight to those who dared enter the plains, for Tristen and Bleed, they were just too young to understand.
Thunder now moved through the lands with malicious intent, howling and screaming at the top of their lungs as if to warn the on coming of a storm. But upon this storm, rode the bittersweet aroma of blood. As the heavens let open their doors, rain stung the blackened bodies and the cracked grounds. It was at this insignificant moment the rotten eyes where open, and the screams where flowing as quickly through the air as blood through thin veins and capillaries. Souls began to pour out of the dead. These restless souls of the herd, together, formed a group, which then limbed through the rain towards Bleed and Tristen. In horror, these two youths lay in a tangled mess upon the floor as they watched the silver figures advance in their direction. There was a chorus, an underlying symphony of passion and death coming from the silvered forms.

“Listen listen Listen listen

their kind, my kind, brought me to heal

Frantically searching for someone to appeal

For we bare secrets sealed with Pain

So please just listen

Listen to the Rain”.


Tristen suddenly recognised the iced faces of the dead, they were his herd, his mother. A strange new understanding weighed down on his mind. They weren’t just asleep, they had gone, abandoned him and his dear sister…and he knew this. His mind however, could not process the ever-looming fact that now, his and Bleeds life was hanging by a string…