Wings of Fire
Divided Tribes
By King Malik
Prologue
When things die, they go in peace, having given the chance to relieve pain, anger, and other large swirls of emotion. Their presence is strong in the love of a friend, kept altogether by memories. They open their eyes in delight upon finding truth unbeknownst to the living. Fate completes his story for the soul, welcoming them to fantastic hope; Destiny ends her foretelling, writing the final sentence in a book about life. With this power in hand, he and she interconnect, and end this wonderful soul. Spirits are difficult to lift however, and thus hatches the concept of ghosts.
A ghost is an emotion so strong it embraces the world it died on. Its very existence passes on a dreadful desire, hurtling the victim into terrifying regret. These ghosts are pictures, painted into the frame of a beautiful memory. These ghosts are fears given life in the mind, hoping it would not destroy this faith. These ghosts have all reason to enter this domain, and punish the damned for drawing blood, death by death.
Their eyes are torches in the dark of night. Their hoods and cloaks are shadow. They breathe a freezing fog for winter's age. Their teeth are flames, hungry for the catch they have set their sights on. They have no voices, however their faces express everything in their shriveled hearts. They advance, their figures rising like smoke in the distance, shielding the morning light.
"You cannot take me," the damned screams. "I have forsaken you, your home, and every last hatred spirit. You cannot touch me, I do not belong in that place any longer. I have beaten you, I have won, whereas you have failed in your desperate conquest. Do not try to frighten me, I have already seen everything you had to offer. You cannot plunge me back into that void - I am alive. I have a soul that can penetrate your anger, you will never have it. Stay back. I command you to leave. As your superior above every last one of you, I demand that you run, and never return."
The ghosts repeated every word in their fading minds, drifting ever closer to the damned. His pleas were heard yet ignored, allowing their eyes to tear open the chest, eat away the muscle, and break through the bones, uncovering the soul beneath the heart. The damned screamed at the top of his lungs, cursing for the ghosts to leave. Their anger was far too strong, their presence unnerving, unrelenting, and merciless. They opened their mouths to speak the damned's name, their lungs shaking like leaves in a storm, but no sound emerged from their tongues. Their bodies shook in desperation to let out one small sound, to release their unbreakable pain. But they could not, no matter how much breath they lost.
They reached their arms out to grasp the damned's soul, to rip it from his mouth, to make him scream in pain for them. The damned backed away, but the towering figure behind brought him to a halt. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, no place to beg for mercy - Fate's whispers filled the room, reminding the damned of every sin committed.
The time has come now, the chance for the ghosts to unleash their agony. All hands landing on the damned's face, they finally screamed until the world heard their cries.