1 Prologue

Boom.

The ground shook with a slow, steady pulse.

My grip tightened on the hilt at my hip, my blood ran cold. I looked up, trying to get my bearings, but even the pale light of the moon had suddenly vanished.

The forest was drenched in unnatural bone-chilling darkness. Just standing within the trees was enough to make my stomach roil with disgust.

Something was very wrong.

Boom.

Uneasy whispers began to spread like a disease among my men, but they soon began to realize that it was the surrounding darkness that whispered back into their ears. Everyone grew mute with this realization, waiting with bated breath to see if the shadow voices would take offence at their silence.

l felt a cold breath on the back of my neck. It felt like I was fighting the darkness for every breath.

A few strangled cries escaped from frightened lips behind me.

Boom.

"Steady," choked out my second in command hoarsely, cutting off any further sound. All I could hear now was the wind. I turned to look at him, but he was swallowed by the darkness.

"Lights," I ordered harshly in a low tone, my hand grasping for my hilt. My mind raced, every instinct pleaded for me to flee. To leave these vile woods. I could feel my will shattering, strangled by primal fear like the moonlight in the darkness.

Boom.

Shouts of fear rippled through the regiment.

"LIGHTS!" I roared. Panic gripped my heart in a vice-like grip, driving nails deep within. I yanked out my swords with a shriek. My instincts screamed and my body rebelled, grinding against my crumbling resolve. "LIGHTS!"

Boom.

Spurred on by fear or discipline, hundreds of spells were cast, finally lighting the clearing in a faint blue glow.

The clearing looked just as it did before, the moon drifted out from behind a cloud and ethereal orbs shed light upon the trees and a shifting steady crowd.

Maybe it had moved on. Maybe we'd just imagined it all. I felt a tinge of hope and loosened my grip on my sword.

Boom.

Shadows burst from the woods, circling.

Boom.

"Circle formation!"

Boom.

Screams.

Boom.

Silence.

Death.

That was all that was left after the battle.

I was splayed on the ground, drifting between life and death. I don't know how long had passed as the sputtering cries for help around me slowly died away one by one.

Blood caked my tired and shredded body and oozed from my mangled face. I tried to move my left arm, but all I felt was pain-racking up and down my side. I couldn't feel the ground below that side. I knew. My left arm was gone.

I should have died, but I lived, hellish blood burning as it ran through my veins. I felt my body slowly pull itself together in excruciating fashion. I screamed as bones were jerked into place and my flesh burned as pieces that had been torn off were replaced with what felt like molten lava. This damn blood. This damn blood. This damn blood. This—

It felt like my head was going to explode. My voice cracked and petered out so I strained to find some other way to express my pain but I couldn't move, nor could I even scream.

Countless yellow and soulless eyes filled my peripheral vision and voices whispered giggling insanity into my ears as they stared through me. Just staring at me. Waiting. Waiting for their master to wake up.

"No... no... no." I could only mutter weakly.

I felt my will fade away as It awoke. My hands fell limp to my side. My body still refused to obey me. I could only stare back at the eyes helplessly as I became It. My body pitch black and incorporeal, the shadows wrapping around me like inky fog in their cold embrace. My fingers coming to sharp points.

"I... am… awake." The voice echoed in my head, grating against my nerves. I could feel it. Its eternal lust for destruction. Why did I agree? Why did I listen to him?

I blacked out. When I woke up again, I was too late. The city of Khorone was already lost.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Persephone, come here quickly," Mom beckoned, her voice strained. I was scared. Alone. Where was she? I couldn't see her. It was so dark. People flowed around me in a torrent of obscured faces and vague silhouettes, like insects before a flood.

Mom's frantic voice called out again in a harsh whisper. "Persephone, quickly!" She lunged out of the dark, grabbing my wrist hard enough to hurt, and ignored my gasp of pain. I felt myself get dragged through the crowd, running to keep up with her. What is…? No matter how much I twisted, I couldn't see her face, I couldn't see Dad, I couldn't see anything.

"Did you hear about the army?"

"Yes, what could possibly do that?"

"Will it come here?"

"What is going on?" I cried out. My eyes started to tear up from the pain in my arm, but I wouldn't let her see that. If she were looking at me, anyway.

Mom didn't say anything, only continuing to pull me along with the tide of panicked bodies till we reached a building I recognized even in the dark. Our temple. We slipped in with the rest and watched someone close and bar the door behind us.

I saw Dad. He was scared, praying fervently while holding the golden pocket watch, which gave off a faint glow in the darkness. Crono was next to him, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The half of his face that was illuminated flashed me a calm,wry smile, but I knew he was nervous. I could see his hands fidgeting in his pockets.

"Mom!" Crono looked relieved as he raised his hand in greeting. "Hey there, Persephone. Don't be scared." Maybe he would tell me something. Anything. Anything at all. All I knew was that I woke up to frantic shouting and running. Before I even realized what was going on, I was lost in a sea of panicked faces and fearful chatter.

Before I could even open my mouth to ask him a question, Mom interjected, "What happened to the altar?" Her voice, usually sharp and direct, wavered strangely. I had never heard her like this before.

Dad shook his head. I looked at the altar. The black holy fires of Thanatos burned in front of us, its usual bright, black blaze dimmed to a weak ember as if it had settled itself into sleep. Mom quickly took her place beside my father, bowing her head in prayer.

I followed their lead, trying to find the usual warmth I always got from praying. I knew from all my years of Church that Thanatos was good, that Thanatos was just, that he would always be there. Always.

I clasped my hands, closed my eyes and prayed. I prayed for safety, for happiness, for comfort. But, why does it feel so cold?

When I looked up I saw Mom and Dad huddled on the opposite side of the sacred brazier conversing more with hand gestures than words. Next to me, Crono was watching them intently, his hands above the fire as though to warm himself.

"What is going on?" I asked again. I received no answer. They didn't even look towards me. "What is going on?" I asked louder, my voice bouncing off the walls.

Everyone and everything went quiet in sync, as if they were heeding some primal instinct. I didn't. I opened my mouth again to speak, but Crono covered it quickly. I struggled until I realized that he looked terrified; his face was pale and underneath the hand that I had placed on his wrist to get him off, his pulse raced. Then he flinched.

The entire church shook, windows shattering and vases smashing to the ground. The ember before us flared into a pitiful flame, flickered then winked out of existence. I could only stare. That wasn't supposed to happen. Ever.

"NO!" My father lept to his feet and began stoking the coals with his own hands, ignoring the burns from the red-hot coals.

"Light up. Come up. Thanatos, don't abandon us."

Crono began stroking my hair, the way he always did when he was calming me down from a nightmare. But no matter how hard I blinked my eyes or shook my head, I knew I wasn't sleeping.

"Dad, there's an army nearby, right? Why aren't they protecting us?."

Dad looked back at Crono and slowly shook his head. Crono's hand stopped.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my voice wavering. Mom and Dad were never scared.

The walls shook again with a horrible crash. Everyone around me began to move frantically, glancing everywhere. Suddenly, someone cried out, "The door!"

Dad stared down the dark aisle towards the only way into the church. The white marble doors were barely visible, but we could see that it was trembling, shaking against the barricades. Something was out there, pushing against the doors.

Mom pulled me in , wrapping her arms over my head. Crono stopped stroking my hair and began to slowly edge towards the large scythe hanging on the wall.

"Quiet," my father ordered in a low tone. The world seemed to stop and silence fell over us.

The barricades were sent flying, crashing against the opposite wall in an explosion of splinters. Behind the now wide open doorway was a figure blacker than the night behind him. Slitted yellow eyes burned on his face; a demon's eyes.

"Die!" Crono charged forward, scythe in hand, before anyone could react. He rushed down the aisle, scythe raised high and ready to slice the figure in half.

Thump. Thump.

Mom buried my head in her chest. I felt people push against me. I was being crushed.

"Let me pass!" Mom screamed desperately. She kept moving, pushing against everyone.

"Mom, what is going on? What happened to Crono?" My voice was lost in the screaming and begging and praying and pleading and crying.

I tried to look up, but Mom's hand forced my head back down. "Don't look, Persephone. Please don't look," she shouted in my ear as she continued to push and push.

I listened to her, keeping my face in her chest. She was crying. Mom was crying. I could feel the hot tears run off her cheeks and onto my hair.

"Mom, is Crono dead?" I asked, barely keeping back tears. What was that? Why was it attacking us?

"Crono is fine," she said breathlessly. I knew she was lying. Her voice was twisted by grief and fear.

"Mom, don't li---"

"Persephone," Mom put me down. Her voice was stern. I quieted down. "Stay here, hide as best you can, I will be back soon. The door closed. I was in the dark. Alone. Waiting for Mom to return.

She never came back. I huddled in the corner, my head on my knees, my hands over my ears. I couldn't block out the screams, all of the terrible screams. But the silence was worse.

All that was left were the light footsteps just outside my door and the whimpering of my mother.

"Please. Don't hurt me. Please. Go away." I could hear her feet, scraping desperately against the ground, trying to get every bit of distance between them. Her voice was broken. "Leave. Please." The door strained, her back pushing against it, her heartbeat echoing in the dark chamber.

Another voice reverberated throughout the church. A voice that sounded more like metal tearing than speech.. I pressed my hands against my ears harder. 'Please let Mom be alright,'

The footsteps came closer.

"ST-- Argh" Schtunk. The door jerked. Drip. Drip. Drip.

I bit into my skirt and tried not to vomit, tears running silently down my face. No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This wasn't happening. Mom, Dad, Crono, everyone is fine. This was just a dream. Just a dream. All a bad nightmare. I closed my eyes.

I am going to wake up and Crono would be stroking my hair and Mom would be laying my church clothes across the bed and everyone would be alive. Everyone would still be alive. I opened my eyes. I was still in a dark closet. I bit harder to choke back a sob. This was real. I am alone.

A voice came out from the other side of the door. I could barely hear it. It wasn't the harsh metal voice from before. It was normal. Then, heavy footsteps ran away.

I waited in that closet, hoping my mother would open the door. She never did.

I was the last one left, the one only who lived. I could no longer bear it anymore. The loneliness, the fear, the pain, they all came crashing down on me. Curling into a tiny ball, I laid there, endless tears streaming down my cheeks, each burning a red streak across my face.

Hours passed before I opened that door to a dead world. The light reached me, the empty husk of Persephone.

I walked out, the smell of the rotting corpses not even registering. I walked. Past the bloated figure of my mother. Past the decapitated head of my brother. Past the mangled corpse of what was once my father.

All the way to the long dead embers of the altar. All I saw was the pocket watch, resting unscathed on cold coals.

The hands were stuck at midnight. The final hour. Death. Even the gods above knew no one survived, not even me. I should have died too. I should have joined them in the afterlife.

"Why, Thanatos? Why me?" I croaked out through my swollen throat. I wanted some answer, some explanation, some reason to continue living.

I stood there, grasping the pocket watch in my hand. Surrounded by death and carnage, it was quiet. I dropped to my knees. "PLEASE! I NEED AN ANSWER!" I cried out to the dead world.

I got an answer. With their glossy unmoving eyes staring at me, a chorus of the dead whispered.

Where the Blood of Leporum flows,

Trusted allies turn bitter foes.

Enemies of old, lost belief,

Galia's heart shudders with grief.

Secrets given life in cold night,

Choice to be made with deathly might:

Destroy the sacred trusted gift,

Or to awaken the Hell's Rift.