Prologue
On a cold misty night, the trees of the valley loomed high above the young man’s head. To him, every step seemed closer to pain, every step closer to misery and every step, closer to rebirth and a new life.
The young man eventually made it to the clearing in which he would find out whether the story,
his story,
her story,
their story,
would live or die.
“Vetus, I had rather hoped you would come,” said a cold, icy voice.
“Aema! it’s not to late to right the wrongs you have done! turn back before the Tenebrae consumes you!” shouted Vetus.
“My name is not Aema any more! my name is... MALA!” she screeched.
Mala stood at the top of a low hill. Her black, torn, dress fluttering in the wind. Vetus still could not believe this was the women he thought he knew so well. Her hair, which used to be chocolate brown, was a greasy black, her face was unnaturally young looking.
With her fury, Mala produced a storm out of nowhere, sending an electric bolt of blue fire at Vetus, sending him flying backward, shaking every atom of his body.
“This is the power! which one dares matches the Tenebrae?!” Mala screamed at the top of her voice.
Verus, unable to get up, said weakly, “please stop before you cause to much pain, before you cause me to much pain.”
This last comment made Mala melt for a moment. Black eyes turning to a brilliant sky blue. For that moment, Vetus thought, that somehow, things could be different, that somehow, maybe the prophecy was wrong, and that they could be together again, and live the rest of their lives together.
But, it was not to be, for in the next instant, Mala’s eyes turned back to there hidious black. Mala screeched with laughter as a great black blanket enveloped her.
“You will see fool! you will pay for every second you ever loved me!” and with that she was gone. The forest became silent, as if relived to be gone of her presence. yet, unsure if she would soon be back. Vetus was silent too. Silent as he got up, went to the town in which he was staying in and went to his room at the local inn. A small cry erupted from the bed, breaking the silence. Vetus went to the bed and look
ed down. A fretful, tiny baby, not even named yet lay there. she looked exactly like her mother before, before...
Her brown, chocolate hair was soft, and her sky blue eyes looked like a summer afternoon sky. Suddenly, Vetus knew what her name would be. Trillain Moore. Trillian. Trill.
(The picture is my cover...Emma Harris is my pen name)
