Prelude
Some places seem to emanate evil. Castle Dracula in Transylvania. The camp at Auschwitz. It gets under your skin, like a virus. The feeling that something terrible has happened there. The feeling that something terrible could yet happen there again. Destruction. Death. Impending doom.
The Balkan Mountains. A huge castle stands atop a winding, narrow column of rock. The castle sits half a mile from the base of the mountain upon which it rests. Four tall spires shoot up from the roof of the ghastly, gothic building. Lightning crackles around the towers, dancing across the sky. This place does not emanate evil. It doesn't have to.
It is evil.
Inside the castle sits a great hall. The room is designed to hold hundreds when filled to capacity. Once, roughly three years ago, it did. Now it stands empty, as if hollowed out by a great storm. Four figures in blue and black cloaks sit cross-legged in the center of the dark room, circled around a small fire, the only source of light save for the consistent lightning. All four sit in silence with eyes closed, their wrists resting on their knees and their palms to the sky. The room is quiet, save for the breathing of these four hooded individuals and the storming which rages outside the walls of the castle.
The flames of the fire begin to grow in height and intensity. Within moments, what was once a small fire is now a raging inferno. The fire spreads, engulfing the four cloaked persons, who remain motionless and silent. They are aflame.
And yet, they do not burn.
The fire continues to blaze, now burning at white-hot temperatures. It goes on for minutes when suddenly it dies. The fire goes out of its own accord. The four still sit, motionless and silent. The silence continues for a few moments.
All at once, the four open their eyes in unison. They unfold their legs and stand together. Swords dangle at their sides. One of them, a woman, steps forward and removes her hood. She is of average height, around 5'6" with long brown hair and a dark complexion. She looks to the three cloaked figures around her.
"The master has spoken to us. You have forty-eight hours to capture and kill the West child. Let nothing stand in your way."
The three nod in agreement. They turn from the woman and disappear into a blur of blue, black, and silver. The woman's hair is blown backwards. She smiles.
"So commands Savitar."
Continued in The Flash #1 by Joe Grunenwald
Some places seem to emanate evil. Castle Dracula in Transylvania. The camp at Auschwitz. It gets under your skin, like a virus. The feeling that something terrible has happened there. The feeling that something terrible could yet happen there again. Destruction. Death. Impending doom.
The Balkan Mountains. A huge castle stands atop a winding, narrow column of rock. The castle sits half a mile from the base of the mountain upon which it rests. Four tall spires shoot up from the roof of the ghastly, gothic building. Lightning crackles around the towers, dancing across the sky. This place does not emanate evil. It doesn't have to.
It is evil.
Inside the castle sits a great hall. The room is designed to hold hundreds when filled to capacity. Once, roughly three years ago, it did. Now it stands empty, as if hollowed out by a great storm. Four figures in blue and black cloaks sit cross-legged in the center of the dark room, circled around a small fire, the only source of light save for the consistent lightning. All four sit in silence with eyes closed, their wrists resting on their knees and their palms to the sky. The room is quiet, save for the breathing of these four hooded individuals and the storming which rages outside the walls of the castle.
The flames of the fire begin to grow in height and intensity. Within moments, what was once a small fire is now a raging inferno. The fire spreads, engulfing the four cloaked persons, who remain motionless and silent. They are aflame.
And yet, they do not burn.
The fire continues to blaze, now burning at white-hot temperatures. It goes on for minutes when suddenly it dies. The fire goes out of its own accord. The four still sit, motionless and silent. The silence continues for a few moments.
All at once, the four open their eyes in unison. They unfold their legs and stand together. Swords dangle at their sides. One of them, a woman, steps forward and removes her hood. She is of average height, around 5'6" with long brown hair and a dark complexion. She looks to the three cloaked figures around her.
"The master has spoken to us. You have forty-eight hours to capture and kill the West child. Let nothing stand in your way."
The three nod in agreement. They turn from the woman and disappear into a blur of blue, black, and silver. The woman's hair is blown backwards. She smiles.
"So commands Savitar."
Continued in The Flash #1 by Joe Grunenwald