Into the Dark(ON HOLD)

Prologue

The colour red blanketed what was once a land of green. Thick and heavy, the liquid's stench permeated the air, poisoning the tongues of the living. Heavy, was the feeling of remorse, each of the lifeless bodies continued to pile up from the massacre.

Tormented cries were thrown to the moon in a desperation that held dwindling hope. The moon, however, hid itself behind unforgiving storm clouds. Even nature responded to the acts of gutless murder.

A little boy felt blood staining his clothing. His hands, flattened against the soil, was darkened by the liquid, and his nose was burning. Through teary golden eyes, he watched everyone he knew being ripped limb from limb.

A hooded man's black boots sunk into the mud, yet he had no trouble walking. Not even when dead bodies had gotten in his way; he would merely walk over them. That was when the little boy noticed it; the hooded man held a severed head in his hands, the hair tangled through his fingers.

Alpha,the boy recognized.

"An Alpha," the man cheered, raising the head higher. Drops of blood fell onto the man's cheek. "cannot be an Alpha without a pack." With an eerie laugh filling the air, he tossed the head to the side, inevitably having it roll near the little boy.

The sight caused his stomach to roll. His Alpha's canines were extracted, but they had already been chipped off. His lifeless eyes were staring at the little boy. In that very moment, the little boy wished there wasn't a hole in the crate his parents had put him in hours before. He wished there was a bottom to it, so he couldn't feel the blood of his parents soaking him. He wished he was deaf, so he didn't have to hear them scream until they died.

He wished he was brave enough to fight, like everyone else had.

If he were to cry, he would give himself away. Oh, how he wished to let out an ear wrenching sob. It tickled his throat, that sob, so he did everything he could to hold it back. Inevitably, the only thing that worked was to wrap his frail hand around his neck and squeeze until the urge to scream subsided.

It never subsided. All he could do was sit and endear the sounds of agonized shouts and pleas for mercy.

Hours. So many hours pressed along. At first, he was cold. As those hours passed, he found himself feeling numb to the bone. Every nerve in his body was shutting down. His eyes, no longer teary, simply stared at the head of his Alpha.

All of the hooded men eventually left, when there were no more cries from the pack. Even then, the little boy did not move a muscle.

It was the sight of the rising sun poking through clouds that jolted him from his daze. It was a burning sensation, that sun. Odd, since he would always wake up early to go watch it rise with his parents by his side.

Hearing the squeal of the crate open, the little boy felt nothing. No happiness at the most beautiful sight there was to him. No sadness that his parents were dead a few feet away. The nothingness, it clawed at his withering heart.

He had all night to feel sadness. Now? It was gone with the men that had brought the massacre.

He did, however, feel quaking anger.

The splash of the warm sun did nothing to appease his shaking soul. Looking around, he saw many dead bodies spread around. Limbs were torn, blood was everywhere, and not a single one of them was alive.

All except him.

The little boy took one step toward the severed head. "Dad," he murmured under his breath. "I'm sorry."

With clenched fists at his sides, he started walking away from the chaos that was once his sanctuary. The hooded man had said the words; an alpha is not an alpha without a pack.

The little boy was to be alpha one day. He would prove the man wrong, if it was the last thing he ever did.

Days turned into weeks, then months. It was a wonder how he made it so long without seeing another of his kind, let alone a human. All he could do was roam; half living, half dead. Hunting was easy; he'd learned that when he was old enough to shift.

His mind, however, was not feigning well. It was his mind that could have ended him.

On a day where no cloud hovered the cerulean sky, the boy stumbled upon a stream of rushing water. Narrowing his eyes, he thought that he saw something poking from in-between two rocks. Curious, he climbed down the slope in hopes to find out what it was, and why he'd noticed it.

Closer, he got, about to reach it until a gust of strong wind took him off guard. His foot slipped on a wet rock and, before he knew it, his head smashed against a hard surface. Black quickly coated his vision. Behind closed eyes, he thought he saw his mother smiling at him.

Then, nothing.

When he woke, he was in a bed. Craning his neck, he saw a woman curled up on a chair beside him. Mom, he was about to call to her, until he realized it wasn't his mother. It was someone else entirely. Whoever that woman was, she saved him.

He wondered if it were too late to save his fragile mind from cracking.