The Alpha King's Omega

Prologue

(A/N: guys the poem here does not belong to me. It belongs to a few people on tumblr who wrote it and published it together) Credits above^ 

Prologue:

They called her many names: "The Angel Of Death", "The Devil's Daughter", "The Silent Slayer", and "The Goddess Of Death" but her personal two favourites were "The Ghost Queen" and "The Queen Of Ghosts". Her real name, however, was Artemis Nightshade Black. She was the immortal rightful heir to The Throne Of The Witches and the daughter of Hades, God of the underworld and the dead. She deserved both titles and all nicknames, she looked like an angel but the truth is that she was even worse than the devil himself. She slayed who she wanted to, and she did it silently as to not bring attention to herself. She had brought many deaths on many creatures in the different realms, worlds, and universes. Including all the supernaturals who dared offend or stop her from achieving her goal. She's slayed entire werewolf packs and came out victorious and without scrapes, never mind scratches. She's stabbed thousands of vampires with her cursed daggers and brought agony to the many who faced her. She's conquered many of the realms and destroyed many homes, in hopes of finding something to satisfy her barbaric needs. No one knew what she wanted to do or what she wanted to find. They just knew that she would do anything to get it, and mass murder was nothing compared to her dark past.

The people who have seen her and lived to tell the tale were too shocked to speak, write, or even move. The people who were supposed to tell the tale, couldn't even tell it. Only few managed to provide a description, but it wasn't in normal words, it was in a language no one knew. They brought a witch to translate but the witch was too stunned to speak. Images of The Ghost Queen wafted throughout the room, screams and pleading cries of little kids and grown adults, joined with the maniacal laughs of a woman resonated all throughout, terrifying those who were in it. It was a crazed laugh of someone as insane as an asylum patient who has seen all the horrors the worlds could offer. It was loud and harsh and raw with emotion. Sorrow, pain, lost love, misery, grief, and anger all flew around the room creating a tornado that sucked all the happiness and pleasures of life from their hearts and replaced them with the negativity of that woman in the memories being projected onto the walls of the now gloomy bedroom.

Her hair was pitch-black, so much it seemed as though it was a black hole. It had shining streaks of silver-white going through it like the streaks of yellow and orange going through an angry, red fire. It was waist-length and had very light waves going through it. It danced with the air, a waltz of love, sorrow, pain, grief, and anger. All twisting, turning and floating around her head like an angel's halo of light and mercy, except hers was of darkness and ruthlessness, more like a devil's than an angel's. Her dark hair's colour clashed with the lightness of her pale, translucent skin, making both her hair and skin glow with a spectral light only ghosts can have. That, and immortals. Her silver eyes were savage and crazed. Darting everywhere, looking for her next victim. They were as silver as the moon's reflection on rivers. It even had the same glow. They were as though someone structured a pair of moon spheres and diamonds and placed them instead of her eyes. They also seemed to have little, but noticeable purple specs in them, adding to the fright and inhumanity of her. She had lips as red as roses, skin as white as snow, and hair as black as ebony. She was the real-life embodiment of snow white. Not the happy one in little girls' fantasies and dreams, but the one who haunts them and gives them nightmares and scares. Her lips were as red as the blood she spattered on the pavements. Her demon shone through her fighting, a name many fear: Jolene. The only description people have ever had of Jolene is centuries old.

"Her skin is pale

Her eyes are red

Her leaden voice commands the dead

To rise and stand beside their dreadful queen

No mortal power escapes her thrall

Her hunger will consume us all

And even now I hear her call: Jolene.

Your teeth are sharp

Your mouth agape

Your claws rend flesh

There's no escape

From the judgement of The Eldritch One, Jolene

He screams about you in his sleep

And when he wakes does naught but weep

In terror of the one they call Jolene.

Blackening the summer skies

With burning wings and countless eyes

We tremble at the sight of you, Jolene

We cower beneath your gaze

That sets the Earth and sky ablaze

Have mercy at the end of days: Jolene."

She was quite short for the amount of power she has. Her black clothing whipped and wrapped around her as she so elegantly fought, some call her moves "the dance of death". Her black, stygian iron daggers slashed and ripped through the flesh of her enemies. Blood exploded out of their bodies every time her weapons slashed through their flesh. She looked so beautiful. Not innocently beautiful like some other girls, but barbarically and savagely beautiful, wild, free, and terrifying. Their blood made her look even more magical and powerful. Pink and red mist hung in the air. She was ruthless, merciless and utterly fiendish. Fiendish to the point where the devil would bow down and repent, in terror of Jolene.

Her hands flew around, sending stygian iron weapons of all shapes and sizes everywhere. Her magic was as strong as her fighting skills, if not more. Her blades moved on their own will, slashing, slitting, stabbing, and slaying as though they had a mind of their own.