Prologue

The blood of his dead wife stained his hands and soaked the carpet beneath his feet. Several of his wooden ornaments had been knocked to the ground in the struggle and one of the shelves had been ripped from the wall. Regretfully, they had left their bedroom window open to cool the sultry heat that had built up in their house during midday. The chill air created goosebumps on his neck as he tried to wipe his palms on the comforter his mother-in-law had knitted for them. But nothing could get him clean.

He needed to leave. To flee the town and fast. But he didn't wish to leave alone.

He snapped up his tattered bag off the floor and filled it with a sparse amount of food, the only thing they could afford that week because the butcher had gambled away his part of the salary. And he took the shotgun off the wall.

Outside was still quiet and dark. He could see a few candles flicker behind the sheer curtains of their neighbors, but no one came out to confront him. Yet.

He kept to the smaller streets and hoped that the only ruckus he created was his wild heartbeat echoing in his ears. Or his harsh breaths. His vision swayed and at times he slipped as he hurried to his lovers' house.

She was the daughter of their local physician and if her father upheld to tradition, then he should have remained in the tavern until dawn, three sheets to the wind and in a stupor on the floor.

But not tonight.

The wrinkled old man greeted him at the door. "What's the meaning of this, boy?! Why are you-"

He pushed past the drunk. "Lucrecia!"

She rushed down the steps in only her nightgown and immediately began groping him, searching for injuries. "Where do you bleed?!"

He grasped her small hand and kissed the streak of blood left by his clothes. "Nowhere. My love, we need to leave. And in a hurry."

Her befuddled father had regained some of his balance and hit their bloody guest in the back with a chair. "Vincent Valentine, this is by Gaia the last time you will meet my daughter! Filthy mutts, all of you."

Lucrecia took hold of the shotgun and hit her father in the face with the butt.

"I'm fine." Vincent reassured her. He truly hadn't felt any pain. "But please come with me."

So together they fled the angry mass that chased them. They ran to the woods and managed to remain hidden for two more nights. Then the woodcutters' boy shot Lucrecia in the back. Vincent left her body by the river and tried to survive on his own. But he was no hunter. He was a fool. A fool who hadn't packed enough supplies, food or ammunition.

On one cold night, with the full moon high in the sky, he found the fresh carcass of a wolf. And he ate. Then rested next to the mutilated form and waited for his life to end.

But while he waited, he prayed. He prayed for revenge to any deity who listened that night.

Unlucky for him, a sinister force answered. Jenova.