Devil to the Damned (Prequel #2 )

2|1 - Dawn the Masquerade

My chosen destination was a place from a lifetime ago. Merged wholly with the two guiding spirits granted a deliberation of these powers; unsteady, yet seemingly reliable for the moment.

In time, I would learn to control this; dissect it for all that it was. Every facet of mystical mystery lingered in an expanding universe within me, waiting to be assimilated. For now, there are answers to seek.

Blades of cold grass poked up between my dirt-smothered toes as I adjusted my balance. The new location felt similar to the last; the air was considerably thinner. The aura shielding me from the rain was still present, though previous wetness dragged my remaining hair flat over the right side of my face and neck.

A painful headache kept my face constricted; at this point, it was only a minor hindrance. Nevertheless, I found myself guided to purpose by more than sight alone. I sauntered past jutting stones that I recognized, some a hundred years old, others only a year before my birth. Many of which trudged up snippets of the past where I leaned against them on summer evenings; reading, sketching, daydreaming.

I could hear the muffled volley crash outside of the dome; the light wall now diminished to a reflective shimmer, growing weaker by the minute as my hold lessened. I eyed the dribbling streams that glided down headstones, each trotting step careful and calculated.

Pulsating dark encroached from the edges of my vision. Every droplet hit the earth like a meteor; tensing my shoulders and skipping every other beat of my heart. It was too much to bear; too much to absorb all at once.

When I arrived, a fist-sized lump lodged in my throat. I knew exactly what I would find, but that reality didn't lessen the impact one bit. A single grey slab protruded from the ground, wet grass curled at the base. It was so surreal, reading my own chiseled name alongside my family's paired with a single date of expiration; nineteen seventy-eight.

A long breath escaped me as I processed what I was reading. Emotional collapse dragged down any lingering positive sentiment; any attempt to dig up their smiles or laughter was smothered in hellfire.

I blinked; a sudden realization. Reading the date again, I took a few steps back and glanced at an unrelated stone. The death date there was five years later.

An acceleration of my heart revived that cold sense of urgency. My eye darted all around, searching through the static rain until I spotted a headstone with a fresh dirt bed. Staggering, my vision blurred as I arrived at the stone and knelt down. I didn't recognize the names of the deceased, but that wasn't what I was looking for.

The lump swelled. "Ninety-five?"

I stayed crouched, echoing the year in my head over and over and over until it found permanence. "Seventeen years. . ."

The timeline of events ricocheted in my skull to the point of destroying linear thought. I attempted to reach deeper, pry apart the walls and locks concealing so many foggy years, to no avail.

A psychic boom shook the void encasing my soul. My neck seized tight, and my head was directed to the sky. An ominous wave far from here tantalized my nerves.

'Asleep for so long.' Rachel's words echoed in my head as I paced the graveyard. I retreated to the furthest corner and took my time examining each and every stone. All the names and dates, the lives come and gone; forgotten. Just like us.

Kevin Rucksbury, I'd already killed him. I remember chewing on his bones while he was still alive. When did that happen?

Walking, the rain was kept at bay by my magic. My footsteps grew heavier, my brain rampant with illusions of the past. The headache had gotten worse. In my peripheral, I could see flickers of dead people; watching me from behind a stone or tree. Giggling, taunting me with songs of anguish and final pleas. I was reading every headstone. Not of my own choice, but by the will of some subconscious drive.