Crimson (Prequel; Divinity Crisis Triology)

CHAPTER ONE: BREACHED

The engines of his black Ford Shelby GT500 roared like a lion marking its territory, like a powerful vibrating beat, echoing throughout the dark, the exhaust pipe wavered and little drops of water fell as white smoke powered out from within, the car was set in a way that ensured quick exit if required.

They were just outside a one-storey building, far north into the town, deep into the lands where no one dared to wander into.

At the forefront of the house, there was a triangular roof and six pillars held up the house. It was as a sort of archaic abandoned castle. It was old but well strong, dusty, and filled with cobwebs, and more closely, there were scorch marks all around.

The only thing alive there were the growing unwanted plants that crawled up the walls. They had succeeded the dead bones that once called the castle home. Silent whispers could be heard from an underground room as cries for help.

Around where all tall trees, bushes, and grasses, it was like a thick forest of wild beasts and bears, there were roaring nuisances and howling wolves, creepy cricking noise emerged from within the grasses and beings watched from therein.

It was dark, it was foggy, and there was a growing pit in his stomach, warning and warning... he could feel the lurking gazes, and he could taste the danger.

He rammed on the steering of the vehicle anxiously as he would occasionally peep through the little lowered glass window.

He was skimming the apartment and the surroundings, taking in every single and little detail, even as little and an unnecessary, and unnatural or hasty waver of the grasses.

He would have to be prepared for anything; to not be caught off guard. He had heard the stories, had read the stories, the tales of what lurked in the dark woods.

His family knew about it first hand. He had lost his uncle to this hidden truth, he was last seen venturing into the wild, at first they thought he would return, but after days passed and turned into weeks, weeks turned into months turned into years, his death was accepted, mourned and a lesson was learnt.

His work - in the past, had brought him deep into the secrets of what was in the farther reach of town, he knew first-hand what was there and he had every right to be conscious and cautious and take every little hover as serious as a pugnacious roar.

He exhaled and shivered as the cold of the night fell softly on his skin. The sky frowned at him, and the stars he read for reassurance was taciturn.

He loathe the suspense and his anxiety was eating him from within, all he wanted was to be back home, back in the comfort of his sanctum sanctorum, in the arms of his large full room, and the rest it proffers.

But still, there was no fear in his eyes. There was worry, but he would sway them to believe he trembled at their voice and their literal black eyes.

He loathe, being at their beck and call, but he would have to obey. He would have to seem afraid to survive. He remembers words that give him strength in times like this, words of strategy... 'seem a fool to deceive and disarm'.

"How long am I gonna be here?" He asked with noticeable fear in his voice(he ensured it).

"You don't ask questions" A voice groaned from the shadows of the rear seat of his car.

"Is that a yes or a no?" he asked dramatically with a short, shaky smile. He paused as they stared at him sternly.

A loud scream emerged from within the house, like a man shouting with every fibre of his existence, it was likened to the screams that emanates from the closed doors of a house of torture, as if the doors of hell was opened and the lost souls screamed to humanity and the heavens for an end to eternal damnation.