enigma // rewriting

No one believed her, nobody ever did. But itching through her skin were the very words she despised.
Death is coming.
Every time she uttered those three words, people merely stared at her, raising an eyebrow and looked at her in contempt. They deemed her as a crazy young girl who seems to be incapable of great things aside from screaming her lungs out.
Death is coming.
Death was on his way, ready to plunge the world in darkness. Once he arrives, he will show no mercy.
Death is coming.
And with the vision of a young handsome man with jet black hair, same as of his soul, and steel blue eyes, his lips curved into a devious smirk.
Death is coming.
He shall bring demise and obliterate the whole wizarding world and revel in the cries of pain and torture.
Death has arrived.
And he surely comes in a ravishing form.