Disclaimers: DNAngel does not belong to me and… yeah.

--- The Night Never Ends ---

--- Prologue: Curse of the Souls ---

Endless tales of destruction and pain weaved the night sky, where tendrils of mist seemed to slowly slither across and around, gently wrapping themselves around any solid objects that would never move again. The wailing of the night's breeze shook the silence in the land, chilling the bones of those who dared to approach, where there laid something and yet nothing. Clothes and children's toys were thrown haphazardly on the footpaths and streets, yet there were no voices to be heard; no parents whispering, merchants auctioning or gamblers gambling. No voices from the living.

The village was dead.

Not a single living soul remained in the dilapidated ruins of a once living and joyful place: shutters swung lazily with the breeze and the remains of residents scattered across the dusty paths and within the very homes. Dust had settled over all those blessed to never move again, and the prey of those who had remained was never to be seen again. Something was amiss, in the end, and the chill of the night could not dispel that; no matter how grave a place looked, or how distraught it may had been, or the mere fact that the bones scattered were that of a family or couple, the back of the mind insisted that there was a lot more than expected. That something was going to happen and that no one could do a thing about it until it was too late.

And yet, no one lived. If it were not for the tales of shaken travelers or mercenaries, then the village may have never been discovered. Rediscovered, in reality, seeing as it had once been a place occupied with many who lived life with joy and happiness that could not be matched. No matter what, they had been content with what they had had; and they were dead.

It had happened unexpectedly; no one had seen it coming at all. No one could have thought that something – or someone – would attack and kill all those who lived life peacefully, hand in hand with nature. Fools, perhaps, but that was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Unexpected deaths became incredibly frequent.

People used to scoff at that; stating that only idiots would believe of such a case where some perfectly healthy person suddenly plunges to a doom that they never deserved. And yet, as more and more people ran away from their homes, claiming it so before falling dead too, fear spread out in panic. Admittedly, the closest village to that one was so far away the people may had died from fatigue, but chances were not to be taken. No one wanted to be involved with them and help them; they cared about their own lives too much to place it on the line for others.

And yet, that was not the end of it.

Death by the hands of mortals had been on the land once more. Not just a small handful of mortals, though, but an entire army; slashing, ripping, killing. They did more than that, true, but it was too horrid to recall, too much to place into the minds of the innocents. Many had died that night, and no one was ever there to tell the tale again.

Whispered nothings were all that was left; the remains of a once beautiful and peaceful village, where none dared to place a foot upon. Its beauty was soaked in the blood of those who had resided on it, and there was nothing that could have been done about it. Bittersweet tears of the souls that had lost their lives was what filled the river close by, and the moans and wails of those killed remained as they wandered around familiar paths they would never cross alive again.

Voices that would never be heard of again; no one there alive, to tell the tale.

The tendrils of mist that was unnatural threaded their way around, with no real objection as to where they were to go, and what was to be done. Otherworldly, perhaps, and with the only reason of their being there due to the deaths of innocents. Sent there to watch over the poor people who had done nothing and received death; their blood staining the land forever. Nothing would change it now, and no one was ever going to attempt to do so. No one wanted to hear their tale; one that was too gruesome to acknowledge; and for that, they remained alone, wandering, and lost in despair.

Crying and wailing voices carried by the breeze. Nothing was left and the beauty was all but dust. And they were trapped here, the very place they died, and relived all that was not to be. To recall their own deaths without hope of ever escaping them; cursing those who had hurt them in the first place and took away their happiness.

Everything was dead; including the trees and grass that used to surround them. The only living plant that remained were the blood red petals of a flower; petals that were plucked with the wailing breeze and swept through the town with reason that could not be explained.

The moon hung over the sky, suspended, the clouds scare, and the stars almost too dim to be seen. Not that it mattered, seeing as there was no one around to gaze upon it.

It was always night in the village.

The people who lived forever wandered during the night, when the moon was up.

A blood red moon was what watched over them, constantly.

That was the curse of the souls.

---

And so is the prologue. The characters are obviously going to be in the next chapter, so look forward to it! And yes, it is gothic-medieval based like, and no, I did no research whatsoever, if anyone decides to wonder. Came after thinking about Koudelka and the Resident Evil series so… why not? It won't hurt anyone…

And yes, I know that I should be finishing other stories, but I'm too lazy. Suppose it doesn't matter, though, does it?

Comments? Questions? Ideas? They're all appreciated, so thanks!