The Withering

Prologue

PLEASE READ BEFORE PROCEEDING!

It's come to my attention that Wattpad has been randomly rearranging the chapters of this book. I've made several attempts to correct the issue and have reached out to Wattpad Support for assistance.

This is (quite obviously) the Prologue.

Thank you for your understanding and patience as I work to resolve this. I apologize for any confusion this may cause.

With love,
Your Author ♥

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"I would sooner cleave my heart from my chest than betray them," 

A figure stood defiantly at the center of the room, bound by chains that pulsed with a sinister energy.

The room was cold and sterile, the air thick with the scent of oil and metal. Flickering fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows against the walls, their dull hum the only sound aside from the occasional drip of water echoing in the distance. 

Amidst the Dark Core operatives, a commanding superior emerged, towering over the rest with an air of authority. His form was draped in the shadowy folds of his coat, concealing his features, but his presence exuded a chilling confidence. Sands moved with purpose, his gaze sharp and calculating.

His gaze bore into the defiant one before him, demanding answers that seemed to dance just beyond his reach.

"You possess the gift of foresight," Sands began, his voice a low, dangerous murmur reverberating through the space, "You've seen them. You know who they are,"

The room remained silent. The figure stood alone, surrounded by the oppressive presence of Dark Core's stronghold.

Sands's patience wore thin, his gaze narrowing with calculated menace. 

"You can still save yourself from all this," He continued, voice laced with a subtle threat, "Cooperate, and this can end,"

The bound figure's lips remained sealed, eyes blazing with fierce determination. A faint, enigmatic smile graced their lips. They knew the consequences of divulging what Sands sought, knew the peril it would unleash upon the world.

Sands' gaze narrowed, "Do you truly wish to burden yourself with their pain, even though your paths have never crossed?" 

"I know they will," They declared, their voice a whisper that echoed with certainty, "And I know they will save me,"

With a nod from Sands, the operative uncorked the vial, unleashing a torrent of darkness so potent it seemed to swallow the very stars themselves. 

The shadowy essence surged forth with a malevolent hunger, coiling and twisting in the air like a serpent of pure night, hungry to ensnare its prey.

The figure stood firm against the encroaching tide, their silhouette a stark contrast against the swirling darkness that threatened to engulf them. As it crept closer, tendrils of inky blackness wrapped around them, snaking across their skin with a chilling touch that seared like frostbite.

Agonizing pain tore through their body, yet they refused to cry out, teeth clenched against the onslaught.

The ringing in their ears grew louder, more constant, as the shadows intensified around the captive. The figure's body convulsed, and a scream of pure agony finally erupted, echoing off the metal walls. It was a sound that spoke of unimaginable torment, yet there was no surrender in it, only defiance.

The curse twisted through their veins, dark tendrils pulsing beneath their skin like a macabre symphony of pain.

Sands observed with a mixture of satisfaction and determination. 

The darkness swirled tighter around them, tendrils of shadow biting into their skin like icy claws. The chains tightened, glowing with a sickly, dark light that seemed to drain the very essence from their captive.

"Behold, the harbinger of oblivion, born of shadows deeper than the abyss itself. Let it be known that no light, no hope, shall withstand its embrace,"

In a final act of desperation, the captive channeled what little remained of their inner power, summoning a radiant pink light that clashed violently with the encroaching shadows. The room trembled, the walls shuddering under the strain of the magical clash.

But the darkness was relentless. 

With one final, soul-wrenching scream, the light was snuffed out, leaving the room in a suffocating blackness. 

The figure collapsed, body limp.

With a subtle gesture, Sands signaled to take the captive away, their fate sealed.

As the operatives dragged the figure into the shadows, the leader glanced toward the room's entrance, where a faint glimmer of dawn light filtered through the darkness. For a moment, uncertainty flickered in their eyes before they turned away, their expression hardening once more.

In the silence that followed, a sense of foreboding settled over the land, a whisper of the darkness that now loomed over Jorvik.