Craighan stood before
the window. He had a jacket on, its hood virtually covering his face. That time
of the day, which was considered to be earl for a student like him to be at,
the school was a refuse, a silent fortress. Silence was a companion, it made him
think. And at theat time, there were images kept on appearing in his mind. A
band of grim reaper surrounded him, all chanting an incantation. He
knew deep inside him that was the prelude to everything.
Selina
Svenningson found the door to their classroom was ajar so she ventured to come
in. she saw someone and eventually recognized it. Craighan was just
standing there, the hair gave him away. “Oh! Ah! Good moring, Matt.” She forced
a tensed smile across her beautiful face.
The
intrusion woke him up from his shallow reverie. He turned to the lady and wore
a smile. He tried to make it as genuine as possible, almost having his art of
deception perfectled. “Good morning, Svenningson,” he said under a cold breath.
“You
the first one to arrive?” she asked, there was a fondness in her voice though
she tried to hide it lest she would give herself away.
He
nodded. A man of few words.
“That’s
good. I-I came in rather early, too.” She felt stupid for giving such a reply.
“Ah! I mean, I always come early but–“
There
was reluctance in her voice; that he noticed. “Cut the formality. I’m a fellow
student, not a professor,” he joked.
If
the young man’s smile was fire, she would have considered herself a wax,
melting under his stare. “Ah! Y-yeah. Right. Just like what I’m supposed to say
myself.”
Tara
Lamoreaux stood before the grandeur of the city; she was in a building under
construction. Her long black hair was swept by the wind, her eyes strong and
impregnable. The shape of her her face a beautiful triangular frame accented
with a nose lifted right and cheekbones announcing their reign on her face.
“Do
you think he’s here?” A voice behind the young lady asked. “I’m getting sick of
this whole hide-and-seek shit.”
“Patience,
Christophe. Mortals can’t escape death as death can’t escape us.”
The
man smiled wryly. His strong yet handsome face turned away. He combed his black
hair with his finger and remarked, “so much for living forever”. Christophe
chuckled.
She
just smiled. If there was something the lady had the man did not possess, it
was patience. She looked at the city, seemingly spellbound. However, beyond the
trance-like state she was in, she knew that the search for Death started
from that point on.
Immortality was a
price Althea had to pay for wanting to be someone else’s salvation. Heaven did
not choose her for that one purpose, she opted it herself. She relinquished her
place as one of the seven angels on the book of Revelation to fulfill her
mission: to save one. And to save one meant to save all. She was in constant
quest to complete her destiny– to give life to death.
As
she knelt before the image of the crucified Christ, she wove a prayer to ask
for something more than guidance. Until a force compelled her to open her eyes.
She stood up and looked around. something was wrong. Something was bound to
happen. Beneath the layers of consecrated silence laid a sense of danger,
though anticipated, still shocked her.
She
faced the altar and looked up at the stained glass.
“So, it was time,” her voice echoed in the church.
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