Ebony hair peaked up from a gaping hole in the ground, a female's head made its way out of the sinking soil. Black claws dug into the rich and wet flatlands; trees whistled a song with their leaves and a summer breeze. The woman's face slowly emerged from the earth, her eyes popping open to reveal a bright crimson shade cutting through the dark forest. Suddenly inhaling, the woman finally tasted the fresh air and expelled moist dirt trapped in her throat. Vacant from mud, her voice shrieked into the star-filled night; her cries of freedom echoed past the dark green shrubbery.
Dirty palms hit blades of grass, the battle of an exhausting escape quickened her breath. Tear choked yells escaped from her, torso pressed against the dew-kissed verdant. Barely covered with her clothes ripped to shreds, the fabric mostly on her open back. The stars gave just enough illumination to something black and shiny on her skin. Blood, it oozed from hardly visible open wounds.
Her crimson eyes fluttered, consciousness flickered its comforting light away. Finally breaking her legs free from the sinkhole, her pale complexion was caked in countless layers of soil. The rest of her body (or what could be seen) was covered in scratches and blackened bruises. Screams became sharp whimpers, her fight for freedom ultimately at an end; this woman had won against a greater force. She laid on the grassy forest floor, reminiscing on the flight to the surface whilst sleep sang it's bitter song.
The darkness of the woods shrouded a visitor, its black eyes barely catching moonlight. It listened to her shrieks into the faded night and drowned out the silence in the groves. It wasn't very tall, quite short in fact, but it still watched her bleed into a slumber. Eventually, it walked towards her, grass crunched under the weight of them; its motivation for now unknown. Specks of embers in the sky highlighted toned arms; a taut black shirt, tufts of raven hair, and skin paler than the moon. Turning out to be a man, he carried her to a cabin hidden under hordes of endless trees. What he didn't know was he alone upbrought a new fate and preserved it in ancient stone.
"Dark, what happened?" Different tones of an Irish accent spoke out into a song and virescent hair poked from the corner of the cabin's opened door.
"Just a lost lamb, Anti," the admirer explained, "just a lost little lamb."
The woman's body limply laid in the man's arms; sprawled across and reaching close to six feet from head to toe. Her blood painted the admirer's lawn black. Time was stretching thin, sands dropping by the handfuls, and neither of them knew it. A new battle made three lands tremble in fear, a chain set in motion. Gods, demons, and angels will forever weep from this day on.
The nephlim will never surrender.
Carrying strength from souls far gone, only to haunt her still.
Her flame will simply reignite.