Long ago when the world was still new the Source of all created rules for the beings who inhabited this new existence. There would be balance, a food chain of sorts. A sense of purpose. The strong protecting the week, the wicked corrupting the good, the good trying to save the wicked. Life, death, and rebirth remain an endless cycle. The first beings, the Titans and their children, the Gods, had long since forgotten this rule. For when you live forever, what do you have to fear?
Wars broke out, lives destroyed, and the balance thrown off kilter. The immortals made the Earth their battle field to avoid destroying the heavens they called home. Lives were lost due to ambitions, folly, anger, hatred, and out of strategy.
The room spread a great expanse, all of it white marble with thin blue veins. Columns of swirling gold and silver held the marbled roof high above even the tallest of men's head. Scenes of life and of love were painted with vivid realism on several walls, further proof that their once was life in this room. Everlasting roses bloomed in vivid shades of blue with silver leaves and vines, those vines embracing columns and running along the floor, as if no one cared for them. No one to cut the beautiful blooms to keep them under control, and that was the way it should be. The vines wrapped themselves around the one object that, though beautiful in and of itself, its purpose was made it ugly.
He drew ever closer to the marble coffin, not wanting to be near it. Not wanting to be in this place at all. His face was drawn taunt with pain at the idea of this place being needed and who it had built to hold. Coming to stand before the beautiful box, his hand reached out to trace the delicate knotting patterns on the lid. Closing his eyes he inhales deeply, the scent of roses assaulted him. For as beautiful as he could make this place in her honor, the smell of roses made him sick, and his eyes could not find any beauty. His beauty, his love, his life, rested under a slap of decorated rock.
With a growl he pushed away from her resting place, planning to never return if he could help it. Stalking from the tomb like a predator ready to make it's next kill. His two colored eyes, one green and one brown look dull instead of the richness and brightness they once held. He pulled on a golden helm that looked like a dragon snarling once he made it out the doors. Taking in a deep breath, he was about to do one of the dumbest things of his life. But what more could he honestly loose? And couldn't he save the last person he wanted no, needed to protect?