The Empty

When she and her sister were born some say that pure evil was carved into there souls. And when they died some say while one was killed by the steal blade of a axe. Others might argue the other was burned to the steak and killed by fires that consumed her. But in truth no one knows. Some say the sister cheated death. Others say she's dead and trapped in a hell of her own making. Left in internal fires for the rest of time. In truth no one knows. If she did live on one might say she wore many faces over the years. Many names. One always stuck. One she might've formed herself. That lived on throughout time. She went by many names that lived as well. Weather it be death, devil, reaper. All buried into the same thing. They all served as warning to any who crossed her path. That death might just soon follow. Death bowed to her. Vengeance served her. And power was her sword. And she held it deadly. Some who crossed her could take a look into her steal grey eyes not know it just might be the last thing they'd see. Her wicked grin that looked vile and cold. She mocking laugh that held nothing but void empty humor. Her hair a deep black ink color. Over the years she was always five ten a thousand steps ahead of a game that has yet to start. But thousands of years later the day has come. And the questions come to light. Who's side will she take. Or does she have her own game at play? In a city with more secrets than truths and war all around. Who do you trust?