Wings of Night

Prologue

It was cold. An artic chill swept through the cavern and the two women shivered slightly.

" You won't live to see her." The woman in black growled out. It was a low growl, and it was loaded with the most lethal of venom. She towered over the woman at her feet. 

She was young, barley looking 20, if that. The young woman had beautifully light-tanned skin. Her silk like waves of crimson spilled over her shoulders like a waterfall. Her slitted black onyx eyes, so deep in color, they suck you right into the obsidian abyss. In this moment, they clouded over with such hatred, seeping out like molasses.

"She is my daughter and you cannot take her away from me!" The young woman had risen to her feet. She stepped closer surpried by her own courage. She bawled her fist slowly, clenching and unclenching them.

"Ambrosia. Think about what you're going to do. This could be the end of both of us. Do you want that? To never get the chance to meet your daughter? Just to kill me? Foolish young one." The older lady rised from her throne, slowly pulling and object from behing her back.

" I won't give you the chance to even try to kill me. I might as well do it myself." Ambrosia's anger faded.  All courage replaced with a explicit fear.

" A sacrafice? No! That could be the end of more than you and I. It could be- "

" So you're finally catching on. I couldn't care less for an ignorant fool like you. All I want is her dead. Say your farewells Ambrosia. You won't be coming back this time. Sacrament of the Pits of Damnation!"

A light of an unimaginale amount of blinding white, appeared above them, floating like a mist. Then came the smooth hums of heavenly voices. The voices oozing with such grace. Ambrosia shivered, this was merely the first stage. The begining of the end.

The voices grew silent. There came another light, much more sinister. A pentagram, began to slowly trace it's self into the dirt floor. As the two points finally met, and horrible screech rang out. Then came a sudden gust of wind, and the screeches picked up, growing louder. It was a murder of crows. Coming from the cracks suddenly opening in the ground. Black and red was everywhere.  The wings of crows as they all flocked above, flying in a circular motion.

" You know crows do that when something dead is below and Ambrosia, you're good as dead." The older lady was grinning from ear to ear. As if she has already won this battle.

" You're right. If I'm as good as dead, I'm destined for Hell, or so you say. These sins I've commited. I'll be welcomed gladly into Hell won't I? If you don't mind. Let me introduce myself," Ambrosia's voice dropped and octave lower. " My name is Purson." Her formed shifted slowly into a inhumanly tall young man, with a graceful stature. The waterfall of wavy crimson locks, had grown, swaying down past his elbows.  With light- colored skin and and prominent cheekbones, even out into utter perfection. Not a single flaw. His wings of gunmetal silver, unfurled from behind. Simple beauty, three times the size of his body. They were thin, and the feathers were ragged at the tips.

" Isn't this little show you put on simply foolish?" Purson gestured behind him, to the display of black, white, and red. 

" You must be truley ashamed, Naamah." Naamah's blood stopped. How had he figured her out so quickly? She had planned this to the most particular extent so no being would figure out her plan.

" H-how?"

" It's quite simple my dear. We are one in the same. I'm growing tired of this game. Now we must return." Purson strode forward, sweeping Naamah up.  Turning to the chasmal, emitting a deep-red colored light.

" It's about time you return." He let her role from his arms and into the gorge.

" Damned woman." Purson jumped in as well. The chasmal closing behind him.

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::sighs:: No I'm not the best writer, so ergo, you cannot judge me. Well you can, but then we'll have a problem. You don't want that now do you? c;

Purson a.k.a. Pursan and Curson - a fallen angel who used to be a member of both the order of Virtues and the order of Thrones. He now serves as a king of the Underworld, where he commands twenty-two legions of infernal spirits. He is invoked as a revealer of the past, the future, and of hidden treasure. And, when manifests it is as a lion-faced man riding upon a bear with a snake in his hand.