Long ago before the earth was created, the fate of the balance of strong energies had begun undergoing a true transition. Both positive and negative needed to find balance among each other. As the war for humanity's soul raged on for countless centuries, every four hundred years or so a new warrior on each side of good and evil was able to be chosen. Legends of mystic and powerful warriors coming together in order to participate in a competition of sorts, somewhat known as a tournament, were held in high regard throughout Earth’s history.
I woke in darkness. There was no light streaming through my window, nor were my pets begging for attention. I lay there confused, black silk sheets tangled around my body instead of white velvet. My eyes finally adjusted and I could see the embers of a dying fire in the fireplace. An open book lay on the floor as if it has been knocked off its shelf.
The day he’d woken to find the space beside him empty and cold, and an impossible encounter with an otherworldly man, had been long. There was five days left in Stockholm at that point, and while Elise and he had already wandered the medieval alleys, visited the suburbs and marinas, and had even taken a train farther east to see Norway, there was still an endless amount of places to visit. Jack drove himself to pull on pants, a shirt, and warm outerwear to meet the blustery days and walk the circuit around the docks. Hundreds of boats were moored in the harbor, depicting a maritime history that made his mind spiral with images of raging waves, adventure, and drumbeats. It had been enough to distract him, but time and again he’d look over his shoulder, hoping to find Elise there with a camera raised, ready to shoot. Elise loved candid photography, loved capturing him unaware and wide-eyed.
Jack looked at Elise taking a drag from the cigarette, at the way the tendrils of cool, gray smoke coiled around the curve of her lips and cheeks. The skin was slightly flushed from a night of drinking, and her hair was mussed from sweat. The surroundings were thrumming. The proximity of other people, the scent of alcohol, the drone of the overhead fans, and the multilingual utterances of the patrons. It was a bombardment of the senses, yet all Jack saw was her, in all her glory.
He felt like a creeper, just sitting in the arm chair staring at her. He watched the rise and fall of her chest as she slept. He did wonder if it was uncomfortable for her wings, but when she rolled over, she made a face before rolling back into her previous position, on her side with her wings hanging off the bed. Then it occurred to him, how did she get her clothes on? He looked around and spotted her dress laying on the end of the bed, along with her bra… He tried to swallow, but his throat and mouth had gone very dry all of a sudden. He looked back at her and it hit him that she was wearing a black nightgown, bits of lace peeped out from under the duvet when she moved. Oh damn… he tried to remain stoic, so he looked away, but he had to make sure she was okay so he looked back every couple of seconds to check. Giving up, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat and tried to avoid looking at her clothes.
Contrary to popular belief, there isn’t anything interesting in the afterlife. In fact, there really isn’t anything at all. It’s an empty, pitch-black pit. You’re floating, drifting, forever and ever in this void. You’re nothing more than a tiny speck in this infinite expanse. The darkness is your home now, and you learn to embrace it.
Thanatos returned to the bedroom and Erosa was sitting up speaking to Persephone.
Thanatos spotted her, from the shadows, going into the cave. She was hard to miss in a place of darkness, she was like a campfire in a forest and she was attracting all kinds of attention. In the corner of his eye, something moved in the shadows and he drifted closer. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his face, as he neared the entrance.
“What is like to love and be loved?” he elaborated.
Thanatos watched in fascination as she drifted towards the young couple. She went like a moth to a flame. He watched her image shimmer for a second like a mirage. She was using a glamour to hide herself. Glamours would never cease to amaze him. It was comical how mortal eyes simply couldn’t see something so large and obvious, even when it was standing right in front of them.
The soldiers are serious. For them, nothing is happening, just pointing to the container and waiting for the order of their sergeant.