Prologue

Narrator POV

► Year ???, ???

Gunshots. Explosions. Screams. A constant sound of death and destruction ringing in the ears.

There stood the remains of what was once a city full of life. Now, the buildings weren't as tall, ripped apart with holes, cracks, burning in a vicious fire that wouldn't go down even with oceans of water. The ground wasn't as flat anymore, like a broken miror showing the state of the people standing on it. The corpses of many, many men, women and children are laying there, in peace when compared to those who are still alive in the middle of this hell, for this is no battlefield. Maybe that it would have actually been better if it was really hell, because at least they would have lived long enough to not regret anything, dying in a bed with friends and family.

All that can be seen is the color red. Interesting color indeed, it always has been one of the most liked colors of the humans. Representing love, emotions, intensity, blood. The ground ? Red. The walls ? Red. The bodies ? Red, red and red. It could have almost been a beautiful sight, if not for the place this red color came from.

In the middle of a destroyed place, with a broken statue and a river of red water stood a little boy. He had night black hair, reflecting slightly the moonlight over his head, and bright and piercing yellow eyes, moving quickly from one side of his skull to the other. Left and right, up and down, and then left and right again. Again and again. His mind is overflowed with questions, confusion, and mostly fear. An emotion he didn't feel since a long time.

As he continued in his quest of understanding, the sound of death did not stop. Multiples voices, men and women, screams and whispers, wishes and curses. All living thing eventually end up as a corpse, going into an eternal sleep. Death comes for all, and all shall welcome it. It is true, yet so very wrong. Death comes, but not all accepted it.

Most wanted to fight it. Others requested a little more time, to settle things up. A few did not fear it, and were willing to go when the times came for them. And finally, a rare amount of them actually wanted it to come. They almost begged for it to take them, but Death did not act unfairly, for it only came to those who did not have anymore time in the realm of the living.

Now, what happened when someone who wanted to die found himself in front of Death ? Did he finally see the value of life, and wanted it back, or did he find himself happy, knowing his time had finally came ? In a world of peace and war, of smiles and tears, of love and hatred, of life and death, of light and darkness, of something and its exact counterpart, lost siblings fighting each other, two sides of a same coin, who won ?

The human waged war, and yet wished for peace. He loved and yet he killed. The human is a walking paradox, something and its opposite, and the same could be said for this little boy.

He wished for Death to come. He wanted it to come so badly that he came to hurt himself. He walked to the door of Death, but was never welcomed. His wounds healed, his tears continued to flow down his cheeks, and his pain kept coming, again, and again, and again, and again and again. He didn't wish for this life, yet that's all he had.

Now, the boy was in hell, where he wanted to be, or so he thought. Did he want to be here ? Is that what death is like ? Is that where his mom went ? Where Eve went ? He seemed confused, he didn't understand. What was happening to him ? Where was he ? Why was he here ? Did he die ? When ? How ?

Questions and questions, one over the other. But none of that is important right now, because suddenly all sounds stopped. The air felt heavy and the wind caused by the damage disappeared. The boy felt it, something was going to happen, something big, really big and really bad. He felt shivers going down his spine, cold sweat coming from his forehead. He didn't blink, he didn't move, he didn't breath. The world stopped.

For a second he felt like it was all over. Anything and everything came to an abrupt end. Some would think that maybe the gods finally decided to stop this madness. But he knew better than to believe that. There is no god. Not anymore. And if there is one, he is probably laughing, enjoying the view. He stopped praying for someone to save him a long time ago, he wouldn't start now. He saved himself, he gave himself a life to live, even though he didn't want it anymore after that. He was the only one to make a choice in his life. The only one. If anyone tried to force his hands, he could cut them, stab them, bite them, crush them, burn them, eat them. It didn't matter, he would do it, and only then would he pick a choice. That's how he lived, for and by himself. His life, his choice.

He was cut from his thoughts when suddenly a lightning bolt bigger and brighter than anything he has ever seen struck the land far from him. The sounds that stopped came as an explosion in his ears. His head ringed in pain, an extraordinary pain that even he couldn't stand up to for very long. His hands came to his ears, strongly holding his head, and his knees fell, landing painfully on the ground. He rolled like he was burning alive. He wanted to scream, he really did, but no matter how hard he tried, no sound escaped his mouth. Only saliva and blood fell in front of him. The metallic taste in his mouth was really strong, but his mind just couldn't think of anything at the moment. He felt it in his hands and on his face. Blood. It came from every hole on his head. His ears, his nose, his mouth, his eyes. They all cried bloody tears.

He felt powerless, now more than ever. He could only close his eyes, grip his head with nails deeply planted on it, and try to resist it. Never once would he have imagined that he could feel so much pain. He already knew what pain was, since his childhood as a matter of fact. He was born with pain as a sibling. He lived with pain all his life, and when he thought he knew everything about it, he was surprised once more. He just felt numb. He wanted to die. He really, really did. If he had to live through more and more pain as time passed, what was the point of living it ? He had no mother, not anymore. His only friend lived a nightmare and died in it. He didn't know what love was anymore. He felt no joy, no excitement, no wonder, no curiosity. Everything that people qualified as positive came empty to him. Actually, everything negative came empty as well. He was no maniac, blinded by rage and sadness. No, he passed that point really soon. He had nothing, absolutely nothing left. He was just empty. Empty of life. Empty of feelings. Empty of will to fight. Empty of everything. Empty of anything. Empty.

And suddenly nothing. Black. Darkness. Shadow. Whatever people calls it, it doesn't matter, not to him. He was in the Void. Again. He lifted his head, still feeling the blood slowly leaving his body. He looked down, a puddle, a red puddle. He looked left and right, and he saw nothing, once again. He understood. He wasn't dead. He only saw what could happen, a possible future as some would say. Slowly, mixed with blood, tears started to rain down from his eyes. He softly cried without making any sound. He fell to the ground once again, but this time he welcomed it. He crouched, his arms around his knees, his head hidden. He was shaking. Around him nothing changed. Nothing to see, nothing to smell, nothing to hear. Just nothing at all. He hated it in here. He hated that he was forced to feel lonely. He hated that he had to see such things over and over everytime he slept. He hated his life since his mother left him, since Eve left him. He hated everything. He just wanted to die. He wanted it so, so hard, and yet he couldn't. They didn't let him die. They healed him every single time. His body didn't want to die while his mind begged for it. Was it normal ? He didn't know. He was told he was a genius, he was told he would save the world. But why would he save it ? Why him ? Was this world even worth it ? Why should he save a world that never cared for him ? His mother always told him to be good, to help, because he was like the moon in the black sky, allowing people to see even when it shouldn't be possible.

He never actually saw the moon. He knew of it thanks to his books and he saw it in the Void, but he didn't consider it as real. He didn't want it to be real. Why did his mother tell him that he was the moon ? He had no idea. He thought of it very seriously at some point. Spending nights thinking of a reason, of something that connected him to the moon. He never saw an answer to his question, but he found an explanation that pleased him soon enough.

He and the moon were both lonely. He and the moon were both in the middle of a void. He and the moon both kept going, swimming through a current of emptiness. Or at least that's what he thought. He really liked this theory. He would never know if he was right, or if there ever was a right answer. But he was like the moon.

Now that he had calmed down, he slowly lifted himself once again, sitting with his legs crossed. He took a deep breath, and started to think. He saw what happened, he saved every detail in his brain, and passed from information to information. He was trying to decypher it, he always did. He would often have visions, he would actually live in them, sometimes a few hours, sometimes a few days, sometimes for years. That might be the reason why he was seen as a genius. He had years of experience stacked in his mind, collecting everything he ever saw.

At first he was confused, he couldn't make sense of what happened to him. Then, with time and with new intelligence, he understood that what he saw was no dream. It was real, or at least a reality. He saw what he knew and what he didn't know. He saw the past and the future. He still didn't know what to think of it. He grew used to it, but it still came from the Void. It all came from the Void, and he hated the Void. He would live to see new things, to live new things, and then he would die, but not the way he wanted it. He never really died, he only scratched the surface of death, and then he was back here. He adapted, he lived with it, but he was really frustrated. Now of all things there was one that kept him from just forgetting everything. The future.

We never know what will happen. How true those words are. He didn't know either. He saw one future among an infinity of them, he could never really trust it. But there was one thing, one dreadsome fact that kept happening, again and again. He never really understood where it started from, he often never realised he was in a vision until he died in it. But on rare occasions he did, and when it happened he would try to find it. The reason it all went that way. The reason it started. The reason he felt so much pain.

The War. The Great War. The Titan War.

Multiple names, multiples facts, millions of people dead. From innocent to criminals, from children to elderly, from a human to another. He didn't feel as much empathy for the human that he felt for the world. It was scarred, again and again, and nobody saw it. Nobody cared. Well he did. He grew tired of it. A few times he would ponder over this fact. Should he really try to stop it ? He didn't have a reason to. If every human died, then would start a true peace, lasting centuries before human foot step on it again. They are persistent after all, they would find a way out of their graves. But at least they would be gone for a while.

What a complicated situation. His brain was working harder that he would have thought possible. After hours and hours of reflexion, he finally moved again, exiting his trance. Now here he was, alone, again. He tried to explore the Void a few times, but he was just walking in an empty place with nothing to make him realize wether he was really moving or not. His body told him he did, but then again, is it really his body ? Can he trust anything ? Despite his evolved intellect, he was still nothing but a kid. He often found himself confused. Was he in the real world ? Was he in another vision ? How many years has it been ? Was he even alive ? Maybe that's why he couldn't die. He didn't know. He didn't know anything, and it started to really irritate the young boy. What was the point of having knowledge if he couldn't put it to use ? What was the point of seeing the future if he couldn't move to change it ? What was the point of his empty and miserable life ?

But then he remembered. His mom. Eve. The two only people that he loved and that loved him back. They both told him to live for them. To be good. To be helpful. To save people like him, so that nobody else would suffer like he did. That's why he kept going. That's why he still had the strength to move on.

Hope.

Hope of freedom. Hope of escaping his nightmares. Hope of making his mom proud. He wanted that more than he wanted to die. He wanted his mom to look at him with a smile, saying that he did a good job, that she loved him. He dreamed of it, at least in his head because he couldn't dream, the Void made sure of that. He would make his mother proud. He would make Eve proud. He would live to help people like him. People that suffered to the hands of filthy humans. People that suffered to a fate they didn't deserve. Did he deserve what happened to him ? Maybe. Maybe not. He didn't know, and he didn't care. He would help either way, because that's who he is. Who he has to be. The moon. A lonely moon, in an empty sky, that allows people to see what they can't, that helps them in the most dire situations.

He was the Moon. He had to be the Moon.

Slowly, he felt himself drifting away. He knew what that meant. He was going back there. He was leaving the Void. He was both glad and sad for this. As much as he hated the Void, he knew that going back wasn't that much better. He looked at his hand. They were glowing in a yellow light. It was not blinding. It was a soft light, it felt warm. It was like the hugs of his mother. He liked the light, that was one of the only things he liked in the Void. Slowly, the light scattered, his hands disappearing. First his fingers, then his knuckles, his palm, his wrist, and slowly all his body started glowing and disappearing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Then he felt it. It was like he was thrown to the ground. He was back. Back to his body. Back to the real world. Back to the land of the living.

He slowly opened his eyes. They were dull. A dull and almost dirty yellow surrounded his pupils. He didn't move at all. He just took the time to look around him. Only his eyes moved. Left and right. Up and down. His face was as empty as how he felt. No expression. His mouth formed a thin line. His breathing was very soft and very slow, it almost seemed like he didn't breath at all.

He was suspended in the air, in a laboratory. Chains on his wrists, ankles and neck. He didn't move. Not that he didn't want to, but he just couldn't. At some point they took that away from him. They took everything away from him. He was strong, fast, resistant. He could escape if he really wanted to, he knew it. But he couldn't do anything if they didn't allow him to. He hated it. He hated them.

But there was one thing they never managed to take away. His will. His wits. His brain. He was smart, really smart. They knew it, and they thought they could control it. They couldn't. He was pretending. He acted like he was controlled. He was patient like a predator, waiting for the right time. He was aching for it, he really wanted everything to stop, to free himself, but he knew better. He couldn't do it, not now, so he waited. He waited for minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years. He didn't know how long he would have to wait, but he did it anyway. His eyes were dull, empty even, but not once were they anything but piercing. It was like he could see your soul through your eyes, like he knew everything about you and could talk about it with every tiny little details.

That's one of the things that terrified every person that stood in front of the boy. He was like a deity, judging your action, and you could do nothing but wait for your punishment. He also had absolutely extraordinary physical abilities. Strength. Agility. Speed. Resistance. High stamina. Flexibility. Fast regeneration. His eyes could see and record everything, every little detail, analyze them and deduct things, conducts, anything really, from afar and very close. His ears could hear a fly in a crowd of thousands. He could easily smell a specific target among a big amount of smells from people, animals or food. He was a monster in body and mind. They created him, so they knew it, but it still scared them, very much so actually. Some wanted to kill the boy before he found a way to get back at them. Others were selfish, wishing to enslave him, use him as a mindless servant to obey their every order since they already brainwashed him. Or at least that is what they thought.

There was only one simple thing, one rule that they all followed to avoid a gruesome death. Don't look at the boy in the eye for too long.

They didn't know how or why, but as long as he wished for it, he could make everyone that looked at him for too long become crazy. Rolling everywhere on the ground, scratching themselves until blood painted their nails, and screams that never stopped. They asked the boy, but he never talked. They tried to force him to answer, but he didn't react to pain, and when he did, he wouldn't scream, not anymore. It was years ago that they last saw him react. He just didn't do it anymore. He still felt the pain, they knew that, but he was able to ignore it. This was the major reason why some wanted to kill him. If he was under control, why couldn't they make him speak ? Some thought that he didn't do it by will, so it wasn't a problem. It was just not possible to fight against human greed, it was too great of an enemy.

The young boy didn't speak, but he was really observant. He learned to do a few things in his time here, not that he would ever tell them. The Void was hell, and he hated it, but as long as he could use it as a tool, why wouldn't he ? He wasn't stupid enough to refrain himself from doing it just because of what it made him live in his sleep, he was above that. It was really hard, and extremely painful, but he could attack someone without moving, share his pain to his enemies. That is one of the first things he discovered about himself, and his connection to the Void. Some part of him liked that, making them scream in pain. Another remembered the words of his mother, he was supposed to help people, but how could he do that if he was locked up ? So he decided to wait. He decided to find the right moment to leave, and then he would begin his journey to save people. Meanwhile, he would amass knowledge, information, power. He would become strong and smart enough to do anything he could possibly imagine. He would use his life in this way, and nobody would be able to control him, nobody would put a leash on him ever again.

He didn't want to live, but his mother did. He didn't want to live, but Eve did. He was torn apart. He wanted to die, yet he didn't. His mom wouldn't want him to, Eve wouldn't want him to. Or at least that's what he thought. Maybe they would welcome him in death. Maybe they would scold him. He could only guess. But he still had a purpose in this forsaken world. He still had something to do. He had to save people, he wanted to be the last victim of humanity's cruelty. He would deliver an escape to those who needed it. He would deliver death to those who deserved it. He wanted to find another alternative to the coming War. People didn't have to die. Children didn't have to live in pain like he did, he would make sure of it.

He had a dream of his own of course, like anyone else, and his dream is one of revenge. Once he would get out, he wanted to find some people that made his life the living hell it is, and he would make them scream to the death, he swore on it on the night his mother breathed for the last time. He swore on it when the same people took Eve from him. If there was one last living thing in this empty shell of a body that he had, it's an unlimited amount of hatred for those three faces that he remembered perfectly. But still, he placed his dream on the second place of importance in his to-do-list, the first being the dream of his loved ones.

His mother asked it with her lovely voice. His friend requested it with a whisper. Both with tears and smiles, both with love and affection. He wanted nothing less than to use his limited life to realize their dream. He would save the innocent. He would save the children, the men and the women. He would prevent the War with his own body if need be, for he didn't want anything but to die anyway.

He would do it, even if he remained lonely, even if nobody remembered him, even if everybody hated him. He would be the one to save them from an horrible future of death, of screams, of blood. He would do it. For Eve. For his mother. For himself. Because he is the one who has the ability to do it. Because he is the one who creates a light in the darkness of the night. Because he is cursed to be the one to do it. 

Him.

The Moon.

The Lonely One.

Lex Nacht.