The Coming

Chapter One: In the Beginning

This story has no real name as of yet. Nothing quite seems right just yet. So, until I find the right title, I'll just stick with the one I have for now.  As for the plot... I'm not really sure. I’m going to wing it. The idea for the beginning of the story came to me randomly during a brief state of depression while cooking my son dinner. Odder things have happened. *insert half-smile here* I have never come up with the beginning of a story before the plot before. Usually, I come up with a bit of the story somewhere in the middle and think up a way to start it. But... those stories never get finished, so lets see where this takes me, huh? *insert smirk here*

Chapter One: In the beginning

~ England Winter of 1752 ~

A woman was strung up by her wrists with rope, in a dark, dank, dungeon. Her wrists were bloody, raw, and scarred from hanging for months on end. Her nearly naked body, in horrible agonizing pain from being beaten and broken repeatedly in unimaginable ways. Her dress was in shreds and partially burned. Her back, where her once large and magnificent wings stood proudly, was burnt and bleeding stumps remained. Her halo, once shining in holy light that dawned her head like a crown, lay against the cold damp floor feet away from where her toes brushed the floor, now bent, broken, and tarnished. Her once long an shinning white hair, now cut close to her head, stained and matted with her blood.

One rose coloured eye was swollen completely shut, the other watching the armored man before her pace back and forth smugly. The man who was the reason, the cause, of her imprisonment and torture.

“Anything to say, vial wench? Plead for mercy, maybe?” he asked, smirking at the broken women hanging before him.

She licked her chapped lips, to no avail, they had long since revoked her water and food privileges, and she spoke in a voice that grew stronger as she continued to speak.

“Take my 'sins' and bury me with bury me with doubt. Take my wings and burn them out. Take my halo, my crown of holy, and smash it about. No matter what you do to me, I wont cry out. I wont give in an shout. You can kill me only in body, not in immortal spirit. I am infinite and old, and I will, oh, I will come back for you. I will destroy you. When I come back – and believe me Shepard Calogan I will be back –  you an your kin had better run. Run knowing that no matter where you run, where you hide, where you or your kin go, I will find all of you, and I. Will. Kill. All of the Calogan bloodline.”

With those word said, her body began to glow in a bright light, then she was abruptly run through the heart to the hilt. Holding the sword, Shepard Calogan looked confident and proud of himself. That confidence soon turned to fear and horror when she locked eyes with him. As blood poured from the corners of her mouth, her cracked lips formed a smile that read that her threat was a promise. And then, she vanished, leaving Shepard running scarred at the realization of what he had just done.

Running scarred because of what he created. Running because he and any and all of his descendants will be hunted down and killed. It may be tomorrow, a week from now, a month, or even years. He didn’t know, but he had to try to hide his family until the end of time. They had to be careful, to make sure that that woman never finds them. He had to make sure his lineage will never forget this day, the day he damned them all.

The day he killed Alystor Maylorn, the guardian angel, and turned her dark.

Turned her fallen.

        ~~~~~~~

Ali sat up quickly in her bed, drenched in a cold sweat, startled out of her dream. She has had this same dream for several months now, ever since she and her family moved to the small town of West Plains, Missouri. This time, the dream was different. Usually, she is just watching the dream, like she was watching a movie. This time, however, she was in Alystor Maylorn's body, viewing everything through the woman’s eyes.