Prologue: A mother's soft cradle

A gentle breeze blew past a woman standing near the Dordogne River, allowing her golden locks to move with the crisp wind. A faint scent of flowers came off of her as she cradled a young boy in her arms, sitting on the dewy grass near their quaint village. Coiled, springy hair falling on her face, the woman wearing a beautiful yellow sundress felt a single raindrop on her face. Giggling, she quickly wiped it away with her slender hand and looked at the child, laughing loudly with her,

"My beautiful son," The sun shone brightly, the fair lady's hazel eyes seemed to have started glowing, clear as day. A soft smile tugged on the French woman's plump lips, "You remind me of the sun, what with your hair, as blonde as mine and your smile outshines it, Giles." Planting a soft kiss on the child's forehead, a single tear fell from her cheek. Every single moment where she gets to be with her offspring, the result of a love affair between a provincial girl and a city boy was especially precious to her.

Though the birds were chirping a merry tune, a sense of dread started to dwell within the village woman. A mother's love for her child will overpower any evil, or the saying goes. The woman was burdened with a heavy heart. The clock was ticking--its tics and tocs echoing through her mind. Time is fleeting. The seconds turn into minutes and in turn, become hours.

The sky grew darker, a loud rumble of thunder shook the surroundings. A sense of foreboding suddenly enveloped the young mother and son. Face darkened, a shriek of fear emerged from the beautiful young woman's mouth, rattling the now ghostly white blonde boy awake. Just like a horror film from the 20s, the underfed boy's face melted away, a disgusting show of melted flesh and bones, all drooping together in a bloody mash. Something was eating away at his face, something horrible. It looked like maggots were squirming around the malnourished kid's orifices. With a bright flash of lightning, everything faded to a dark, inky black.