The Curse Of Zeklos

Prologue>>It Began With A Curse

Hey everyone ^_^ We are DaFantasy_Sisters.

Now this is our first story [together] here on watty, now now It IS a Vampire story but don't be deceived ;) it is NOTHING like your ordinary Vamps,  this unique story will keep your hairs on end. You'll be lusting for me in no time >.<

We are going hard core here so give it a try, please. You won't be disappointed <3

Oh, and Many many thank you's to Katiee aka RawrIsDinoLove for the amazing Cover to the Right>>>>>>>

Beautiful right? just stunning! *-*

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Curse of Zeklos~

Born at the jagged end of the stake,

Bonded from a natural mistake

To stain an innocent soul,

Claim the life of names written in ancient scrolls.

For more than one curse exists,

Sun rays burning unholy spirits.

To arms, with those who wear the crown

Blood of crimson, flooding to drown

Peirce the heart with silver of the purest

Unveil the secrets within in order to cure it

When the death of one causes the death of all

The flesh will rise and skin shall crawl.

For in order to break the mended, on must leap off the bridge of death.

The curse of Zeklos started it all,

The curse of Zeklos began this war

Assemble the royals, ready the sacrifice

One for all shall pay the final price.

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       Prologue~

 Twilight hour was beginning to reach the peak of its end. The luminescent hues of purple began to bleed out through the horizon, fading. In their place the navy blues began to expand, as stars danced in the sea of their refuge. The full moon radiated down to the land of earth, illuminating bright in such ways the sun never could, almost lulling to the critters bellow.

            Guards began to march stealthily through the streets of the town, in search for any rebelling citizen. Houses of every size surrounded them, and deep within the shadows someone lurked; watching with murderous red eyes. Others would merely walk by the Guards nonchalantly, going ahead with their daily routine, however every once in a while, they would flicker their grave eyes to the south, where through the trees they would scarcely see the towers of the palace—an abandoned palace. Morosely the town’s people would turn away, and walk off. One didn't however, a small boy let his gaze remain, and a piercing look that held much inquiringness. Intrigued, he took a step forward, heels coiled and ready to charge to the gates of the Gothic palace.

            Before he could make another move, a cold hand clasped itself around his thin arm.

            “Where do you think you are going, Antonio?” A harmonic soprano voice demanded—the boy looked up to meet the bright emerald eyes of his mother. She hovered over him in a black velvet coat, the hood over her head—keeping the silky strands of her black hair concealed—and shadowed over her features.