Butcherbirds
- LECTURAS 83
- Votos 1
- Partes 9
Six years since the oil ran out.
Six years since his father betrayed him and everyone else.
Six years since his world crashed and burnt.
A prince in exile returns to the place where he lost it all, his crown, his people, his friend.
And there's nothing left...
Authors Note:
People (My mum) have often told me that some parts of my stories don't make that much sense and i thought I might try to clear up an aspect of this story which I'm fairly certain makes little to no sense: the setting/time period.
The story is set int the future (a dystopian future if you like) but at the same time it has aspects of the past in it (My thinking was, the oils running out, things aren't going to be new and futuristic) for example the weapons are primarily from the Medieval period (Think swords and crossbows).
If you have any questions, I'll be happy to answer them.
Thanks for reading.
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REBIRTH [COMPLETE]
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He smiled. The devil himself couldn't have crafted a more wicked grin. "What do you say we play a game, little Reaper?" I narrowed my eyes, trying to decipher his intentions. "What kind of game?" His grin widened, showing the tips of his fangs. I watched the prince curiously as he strode over to his bag. With a swift motion, he withdrew a bow and a quiver of arrows, flinging them at my feet without so much as a second glance. I furrowed my eyebrows, casting him a look of uncertainty. That sinister grin stayed plastered upon his lips as he said, "Run." *** I, Skyla Ashforth, am what some might call a "sociopath." It was a title that fit. Why shouldn't I embrace it? I am a vampire slayer, a Reaper of bloodsuckers, and an exceptionally good one, if I do say so myself. Yes, being a sociopath has its perks; I could manipulate and deceive with the best of them. So, when captured by the notorious Red Prince, I embraced the challenge of manipulating my freedom. Pierce Darcee, was a sadistic vampire with a God complex. The fool actually believed he could break me. Little did he know, I was the kind of Reaper who would dance through a battlefield, whistling a merry tune as I twirled my braids. I relished the challenge of manipulating his oversized ego, planning to stab that rotting, blackened heart of his with a venom-laced dagger. I crafted a scheme so delightful, so intricate, that I couldn't help but salivate at the prospect of victory. It was foolproof, or so my mind believed. But then... then there was that pull. That unexpected, unwelcome spark that ignited something within me. Feelings, of all things! Now, that was a complication. Disgusting, messy feelings that could very well lead to my destruction. Or his. It was a dangerous game we played, but then again, the most thrilling ones usually are. *Rated M for Murder, Mayhem, and some profanity. Sorry but no smutty interludes. You've stumbled into a blood bath, not a bodice ripper.*
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