Hey, guys. Welcome to Hellbound! For newcomers, sorry if it is a bit confusing, but I tried as hard as I could to mend the sequel with all the details from the first fic, My Angel of Darkness.
If something is confusing, don't worry—you'll get caught up eventually. Or you can just leave a question in the reviews, and I'll get back to you.
*Disclaimer* The only character I own so far is Michael and certain others that will be introduced later. The plot is all mine.
PROLOGUE TIME!
MPOV
I was caught, suspended by swaying, invisible threads that were attached to each of my limbs. Though my eyes were wide open, I could see nothing but an inky black that swallowed me up and seeped inside me until I could feel nothing but ice. My breath tried to snake out between the subtle part of my lips, but all I could dredge up was a grating, choking noise. The conscious part of my mind told me that my lungs should be shriveling up and collapsing in on themselves, but I was surprisingly unharmed. In fact, the only thing I felt was hollow.
Swallowing down my futile attempts at breathing, I relaxed into the strings supporting me as I realized that I just didn't really care anymore. For the past couple months, I had not one ounce of happiness flood inside me. It was only pain after miserable pain as wounds were slashed into me with the careless indulgence of a man I once called my brother. After all the lives I had lived, after all the battles that I had won, how did it boil down to this moment?
A sigh slipped out of me, sounding mangled from the lack of true breath. I couldn't pretend like I didn't know how this all happened. I was the one who caused it, after all. But my sacrifice wasn't made in vain. Deep inside me, I knew that out in the mortal world things were being changed for the better. All the lives I loved were being spared at that very second, and in the big scheme of things, I was content with giving my soul up in order to save them all—especially him.
Because he was all that mattered, wasn't he? Everything I had done had been with the intentions to rescue him and end his suffering. He, who had not left my side for nearly six hundred lives—who had damned himself so that I may continue breathing and living this existence that I called life—was finally going to be in peace. After some time, he will forget of me and continue on with the great life I always knew he was destined to live.
Those dark, opaque eyes swam up, filling the black void of my vision with pure love. Maybe, just maybe, I would be able to reach him again, and we could finally be happy. The thought was impulsive, fleeting, for I knew my heart no longer beat in my chest. How does one love without a heart? Shards of ice spidderwebbed through my dead, hard heart in an attempt to compensate for the warmth that had once thrived there.
Abruptly, there was a stirring in the darkness, an impatient waver shredding through the atmosphere. I sagged against the threads tethered to me, drowning in the sensation of lead being poured through my veins. There was no going back now. Though I was sad to watch all my memories bleed from my strands of caramel hair and drip on the floor in vivid technicolors, I also found the barest hint of exhaustion hidden deep within my bones. So many lives; so many tears, laughs, kisses, and plump, young faces long forgotten. It was my time to vanish from existence.
"I'm ready." It was the barest of whispers, laden with the strangest mixture of mourning and relief.
With the sharp hiss of a blade tearing through the wind, all four of the threads supporting me were cut. I dropped instantly, dripping and bleeding and fading away into a void of bottomless time along with the rest of my memories.
Yes, this was very short compared to what you are all used to. But hey, that's a prologue for you. Stick around if you want to know why Max is dying….
R&R(:
