The Legend Begins

Malum City

A steady rain tapped against the glass. Distant police sirens forewarned danger. Two pops of gunshots and a woman's scream. The nightly sounds of Malum's reign echoed in full force.

A little girl, only six years old, lied awake in her bed. The other orphans slept through the constant sound of the city. Mary however, could never get used to it.

Watching the drops of rain slide down her window, she was mesmerized by their individual casting of reflected light from the lamppost in the alley. Each drop carried with it a soft glowing orange hue. Even at six, Mary's young mind wondered how such beauty could fall in a place like this.

Breaking a momentary thought of peace, the trembling pleas of a man begging for his life grew louder. Puddles sloshed and beating footsteps echoed amongst tightly placed buildings. Mary sat up. Living in the orphanage the longest had its perks. She got a bed by the window. A front row seat to Malum's horrors.

The pleading man came running into view. While looking back, he tripped over a pile of garbage and smacked his chin on the asphalt. Temporarily dazed, he rolled over on his back. Shrouded in darkness, Mary couldn't make out his face, but knew the terror that must be fleeting his eyes.

Two hunters emerged from the shadows. Standing over their prey, they began kicking. Their victim shrieked in pain, feeding their hungered lust for harm, bloodshed, and death. The fear exuding from panicked tears fueled a one way trip toward humanity's ultimate failure.

Mary's heart quickened and her throat tightened. If only a ray of hope could shine in such dire times. A final dying plea ended with a gunshot that woke the entire orphanage. The harbingers of death fled off into the depths of darkness. A body lied dead in a back alley, unceremoniously bleeding into a sewer drain.

The lights in the bedroom went on, and the scene outside disappeared, leaving Mary a reflection of herself.

The Burden

 The head rose further still. A gaping mouth with fangs, inhuman and grotesque, began wailing an ear splitting scream. Mary slapped both hands against her ears and squeezed them tight, trying to block out the sound. But there was no escape. The sound was coming within her own head.

Mary jumped out of bed. The demon haunting her disappeared, but the scream continued to torture her. She ran to the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind her. When the bang of the door hit, the screaming stopped. She backed away slowly, trembling.

Passing the mirror on her right, she spooked herself out of the corner of her eye. Her heart skipping a beat, she shuttered before realizing her reflection. With only the moon as lighting, Mary looked at herself and saw all she needed to see. Two blackened dreary eyes, trembling lips, and an unkempt mess of once beautiful hair.

Mary was so pretty, but the burden life set upon her cast an ugly shadow. Lost in herself for a moment, the misery she constantly felt began to reflect in the mirror. Taking a pair of scissors lying on the counter, she grabbed a handful of hair and began hacking away. Chunks at a time, hair fell to the floor. Hasty, careless, and in the dark, she snipped away, cutting her fingers and stabbing her head. Tears ran from her cheeks. Blood ran from her forehead.

When she was done, Mary's beauty left her. Her hair was now a short uneven mess. Her eyes enraged and her lips fuming. Destiny had taken its course, and Mary suffered because of it. She clenched her hand and punched the mirror. Her one ugly reflection broke into a hundred.

The Chosen

A cold chill ran through the vents. Mary tightened her arms around her baby. Looking down at his peaceful sleeping face, a slight smile crossed her lips, but soon faded. While the silent air throughout the room was bliss, a disturbing aura seemed to surround the child's head.

"Is everything alright," a Nurse entered. Mary nodded with a fraudulent expression happiness.

"No you're not," the nurse said. Mary watched as the nurse approached. A tall skinny woman, wearing an angry scowl as she approached. "Neither of you are," she said. Mary went to speak but found her voice frozen and stuck inside her throat.

"The child is not yours to keep," the nurse said. Mary gazed at the woman with bewildered eyes. Hairs began to stand on edge. "He has a job to do, and he can't have you interfering."

Mary looked down at the child still resting peacefully in her arms, and knew everything the nurse was saying was true. She couldn't keep the baby. He was too important.

The nurse reached out her arms. "Give him to me. I'll set him on the path." Mary hesitated. She wished there were more time. Another moment she could spend with him. She hadn't even given him a name.

Relenting, she lifted the child up and set him in the nurse's arms. "It's the only way." The monitor keeping watch of Mary's vitals flickered. Hairline cracks began to slowly draw across the ceiling. The floor trembled. The walls quivered. "It's the only way," the nurse said again.

The shadows cast throughout the room began to dance. Soon, each shadow converged and fumed like flames. A raging fire surrounded them. Its roars crackled. "It's the only way."

Mary sat up in bed, wide eyed and terrified. Her mouth hung open, trying to let out shrieks, but nothing would come.

The nurse's white uniform turned into a darkened ashy black. Veins shown through her pale ghostly arms. Her finger nails turned to claws. Her eyes began glowing red. "Et spiritus mori spes cadit," the nurse's voice spoke in an echoing monotone. "Et spiritus mori spes cadit."

The demonic figure opened the window. A breeze wafted in, stoking the shadowy flames. "Et spiritus mori spes cadit." The nurse held the baby out the window. "Hope falls and spirits die."

"Is everything alright," the nurse said again. Mary looked down at her child, still resting peacefully in her arms. "Yes," Mary's voice quivered. "We're fine."