PROLOGUE

Dreams were fragile. It was a simple fact that I knew had to be held true.

Warmth. Comfort. Coldness.

Coldness...

Why was it cold?

My gaze was captured by the cataclysmic view I had long been accustomed to. The chilling wind, brushing against my ethereal figure ever so often like knives. The touch of blood, smearing my skin. The smell of burnt flesh, gracing my sense of smell. A repungent aroma, that threatened to spill me from within. How long had I walked along this accursed road?

The same scenery, for the last few months. Perhaps years, the river of time long been dulled by the pummelling and hardening of repetition. Yet that didn't bother me as much as I expected it to be. Acceptance, mayhaps? Or the struggle of a fool. All those thoughts didn't matter at this moment, that was the luxury for those that were liberated.

Was this Hell?

That thought did occur to me intermittently. The constant reminder of the pungent smoke of burn corpses, or the sight of skeletons that fell. Tumbled, to halt my match. For whatever reason, I continued to walk. I didn't question. I didn't speak. I didn't think. For those who remained sane, would never remain alive in this forsaken land that begets purgatory. The inching call of curses, beckoning me to follow. To my demise.

I refused.

My legs carried me, away from the places of screeches and screams. They bled. They wrangled. They died. Yet they still continued to tread. Wishing for a glimpse of solace, beyond the horizon of the dead and death. Even then, I couldn't escape from his gaze. His cursed eyes - that intently watched my every move. My every step. No matter how hard; or desperately tried.

"Give up."

They spoke.

"Leave your body to me."

He muttered beside my ears.

"Stumble. Fall. Struggle. Yield."

Words that contained the right of a fallen king. A man forsaken by the Lord. An accursed apostle persuaded me periodically. Promising a painless end. A joyful future. Why did I continue to walk? To run? Simply surrendering is the much easier way. To lend my burden to a man much greater. Much more - powerful.

"That's right. Pass your will to me. Your soul, to take as mine."

The whisper reached me again. Tempting me with wonders that could not be achieved. He who impersonates God - why do you torture me with promises you will clearly not uphold? You are no messiah. You are -

"A devil. A King that fell from grace. Yet - I still hold dominion over those that are weaker than me. Is it that surprising I hold the strength to affirm your wishes?" He stated, speaking much more than before. "All you have to do, is grant your body to me."

Death.

A privilege granted to those who are mortal. The End, that reaps for those that had lived. Hunts, for those that had wandered aimlessly like lost sheep, despite their attempts that longed for immortality. Alas, it was a futile action - for the price one had to pay for accepting the will of life is the freezing hand of death.That is the supposed law. An inevitable fact that shall be held true no matter the circumstances.

Yet why does it not chase after me? Why does it not follow the man that had defied his destiny for this long? I awaited it presence for centuries. Millenia. Hoping, so dearly. So miserably for an escape from this cage I was trapped within. From the hunter that watched.

"Hope - a blessing, and a curse." He chuckled, finding my struggle amusing. "You wait for a possibility that will never arrive. Perhaps that is the reason that makes you human, so entertaining to observe."

My mouth gasped. Parched - for water. For salvation. However, I did nothing to satisfy the inexplicable cravings of my own body, for I knew better. That these were nothing but illusions that haunt me innescessantly.

"Why wait for years, when I'm offering you a solution to your problem right now?" The temptations of the Devil. The enticement from the Snake toward the man of God. "Accept and you shall be free. A nudge from a person is sometimes all you need to be liberated."

My eyes glazed. Vision blurring, as I heedlessly glanced my static surroundings. The land, remaining the same as I first entered. Like a naive child. A fatal choice, that cost me who I was. Who I am. My identity.

The sight of soil, corrupted ever so terminally - a sense of touch I have gotten used to. The aroma of blood and flesh, mixed with something new. Something foreign. The crimson sky that stretched to consume everything in the colour of its own, gazing down at my insignificant figure. Reaffirming my thoughts and emotions, that repeatedly plagued me.

This world that I continued to march was nothing more than a nightmare. Memories hazy. Body pummeled. The sensations of the wind that constantly ripped and tore my skin not convincing me otherwise. It had to be.

"Fool."

Even then, I continued to have a strand of belief. Of hope. To continue dreaming. Despite the screeching ache within my bones. The ringing of my ears. I wanted to wake up, and aspire for something greater. That alone was enough to motivate me to walk. To march on.

I cannot call myself a strong man. Nor a wise one. Not an intelligent youth, or a determined boy. However, to protect my feeble fantasy - perseverance was all I needed. Resolve to defend. Persistence, to continue. Tenacity - to ignore the alluring whispers of the Devil that loomed over me. It was expected I had to have some type of resolve to live on.

Dreams were fragile things after all.

"Humans. Worthless Insects. Hideous Creatures, how is it that fortune smiles upon you at every turn?" A grating, manical laugh greeted me. Sounding desperate. "God favours fools. How I - the King of Curses - bearer of evil, am forced to agree with such a belittled myth. A mere legend."

Hands grasped my feet. Yells screamed at my ears. The smell of dead corpses assaulted my nose. The touch of bones, withered and fractured gliding against my skin. As well as the taste of the blood that lingered in the air, pumping within me with every breath. Every reach. The plethora of sensation, forcing me to bend. Begging me to stop. Screaming at the unfairness of it all.

I could not bother to care.

Guilt? Fear? I had long grown tired at the influx of those emotions at every turn. Every second; day - weeks. Months. Yet I resumed. Human morality is a trait that defines the consciousness and the core of what makes a human - humane. However, within the domain of the King that feasts on them was nothing short of an idiotic move. It took only so much before you shattered and adapted.

I should have fallen long ago. I should have given up years before. Even so, at the sudden sight of light that gave a hand. A chance at redemption, I would be a fool to not take it.

The hands hoping for demise, withered. The smell purifying, as my body healed. With every movement I became closer. The beacon of hope, that I so anxiously waited for - guiding me to a place unknown. Even then, the thoughts that rampage within my psyche declared that any place other than this was enough. As long as I could escape. Live. That alone, was a gift greater than I could envision.

"A miracle, granted within the Land of Curses. How ironic." I ignored his jestful words. "Even then, you will not escape my grasp. Your fate is to be consumed by my hands after all."

I began to walk, quicker.

"Walk. Run. Struggle."

My legs ran, for the first time in eons. Adrenaline racing. Coarsing.

"I'll sit upon my throne, and watch it all."

My hands stretched forwards, body inching closer to the door that illuminated the darkness. My salvation, within a road I had walked for eons.

"Awaiting the moment, I'll claim your body as mine. Releasing the seal of this monarch."

I lunged, towards the door of light. Feeling liberated - mentally and physically.

"I'll observe your tale with great interest, vessel of mine."

His words turning into whispers, as my consciousness slowly drifted. Safety, cradling me in its arms.

"Do not dissapoint me - "

His final vows where the final things that soothed me to sleep. Finding pyrrhic peace. Relaxation. Taking his words as nothing but a bost. A jest.

"Emrys Vernifelon."

Yet at the mention of my true name - that I remembered throughout the battering of time, I was forced to reconsider. Alas, that could wait. Halt, until the moment I awoke from the slumber I wandered to. I was nothing but a boy searching for rest. Ignroing the place I have known for as long as my memories would stretch, but that didn't matter.

For now, I wanted to dream. A dream I didn't want to wake up from. However, the seeds of doubt would not dissipitate. Wither. Rather they blossomed at the sole thought of that. I knew I will be forced to walk. To trudge, despite my indignance. However, the world was a cruel place, and I have no other choice to accept it.

But at this moment, I wanted a grasp of the sensation I've missed through the hands of time. The pen of destiny. My body curling instinctively, to protect myself from a danger that would never come.

Dreams were fragile things after all.