I am so sorry. I thought I could survive without doing two stories, but it seems as if I was wrong. Now I am stuck in a bad spot. I don't know what to write for the next chapter of The Tempest, and this is the only other story I have prepared enough to post, even though it kind of shoots down my good mood writing it. The good news is that I am getting out of the writer's block little by little. How? I write my own stories too, and write now the words are flowing for them. Any ways, I apologize for the shortness of this beginning chapter. I promise, it is the going to be the shortest chapter of the entire thing!
Warning: Rated M for vulgarity, crudeness, mildish gore, sexual situations, and other dark themes.
Chapter 1
The Prologue
Mana's POV
I was born in a city near the coast. Londinium—as it was called—held many tall buildings, dozens of cobblestones streets, people walking about in the open. And it would rain there, in my hometown. It rained so often and so heavily that run-off would stream down like a raging torrent through the streets. If I missed any aspect of Londinium it was the rain because it represented a thousand things to me. Freedom. Normalcy. Life without despair. Simplicity. But most of all it represented my brother. He was the most precious thing in that place. Now we are a world apart. These rats of a people kidnapped me and carried me into this miserable desert where it never rains. I live in cold, dark, damp caves. Or rather I live in its vault, the "Sky Above" as these desert rats call it. To me it is merely Noahs' Ark, and it is the only place where one can see the beauty of the wasteland from afar. I am a prisoner of the Vatican, held here by force because I am a Noah. I hate it here. I hate the view, I hate not being able to stand in the rain, I hate the people. I hate everything involved with the Vatican.
I look down at the boy sleeping peacefully in my bed. I hate him too, for he is the only thing chaining me to this wretched place. But no longer does he tether me. I have a brother in Londinium who needs me more than this boy. And concerning the pathetic waif…it's not like I hold any obligation towards him. We do not even share blood.
I stand up from the chair and walk out of the room without a second look over my shoulder. It feels so easy, leaving behind the innocent child sleeping away in my bed. I briefly wonder what will become of him in the future—but then it becomes quite clear. Once the others discovered the letter relinquishing my guardianship of the boy, they would immediately give him to an orphanage. There he will either be adopted or grow into an adult at the orphanage. I believe he would fit in the latter category if his horrid personality was anything to go by. Obviously I wish nothing but the best for him: I sincerely hope that he will be adopted by a gentle and loving couple in a good, stable environment.
"It's a better life than he was born to," I say to myself. Honestly, it was the best gift I could give to him at the moment. I do not think he would accept anything else.