(RED SKY)
BURN alive by lighting a candle that suddenly engulfs a person upon contact and fast. A poison that is quietly sent upon and down to the mouth of the sleeping victim. A drink poison without anyone’s knowledge as it killed everyone dining. Worst and silently, a poison gas spread through the air and killed everyone in seconds. The assassins are on the move, seven to be exact as the ones elite to the creed are sent to finish the job within an hour.
“Please.”
As a pleading echo, yet no one heard as no one is alive to tell the brutal massacre. To the room and the Royal concubine whose protecting her only daughter by her arms. Seven and complete of the elite assassins come and greet them with knives in their hand
(DARK MOON) “COMMANDMENTS.” She whispers in a cold, eerie, yet taunting tone of her voice. Waving her fan back and forth in a calculated and graceful manner, she sits on her favorite chair where at first glance you may think that she is keeping herself warm in front of the fireplace. Yet, if you will look carefully and know her, the fire that was burning in the fireplace is not meant to keep anyone warm, but curse them by its hell’s bluish-white hue. To the place, yet rather a void she commands and where dreams are made and nightmare follows. Her very words and voice are the very rule and law anyone has the chance to choose from the options she will lay off. She draws a cunning smile as the ticking clock echoes from a far distance from her. "The commandments.” &n
(THE CHOSEN KNIGHT) “I WANT YOU TO KEEP AN EYE ON HER FOR ME, WOULD YOU, EMIE?” With the echoing sound of his words and the voice that comes within it, her eyes dim into its deeper hue, and together with her calculated and careful steps, she blinks thrice and slowly as she whispers. “As you wish.” To the chimes and dime of the keys within her hand and very grasp, as it sways together with her very steps and stride. Her calculated steps, her loyalty, pledge life and the very reason of her existence lies within a human doll who is both a knight and a spy for her master, the God, and the two to whom this very world represents. Yet knowing everything and the deeper truth of the mystery that revolves around everything in the 2nd book. She draws a half, but sinister
(ANGEL OF DEATH) “LET US SEE ABOUT NOW?” Asking, yet rather declaring an inevitable dread and a danger for blood and very kill. HE flips the card into the air as HE catches it upon HIS other hand and all the while as HE imitates Chester’s cat's smile, HE whispers. “Smart more or not? Whatever it is, you are making your own game, Arthur.” Whispering his name as HE giggles in the end. The card that HE holds flips unto the side of its very face as the prominent number of the roman and the image are presented. HE sat at his throne as HIS looking towards ‘his’ mirror where he watches and somehow guarded in between, yet unto a glance and for a while as HE looks at the card within HIS hand, HE reminded. “Not a crown, nor the
(BLOOD NIGHT) “HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAY.” “THANK YOU, RAIN.” One, two, three. Someone started to count. Four, five, six. No one is around. Seven, eight, nine. Their words and the very tone of like a whispering lullaby is hunting, yet ringing a painful heartache from within. Then finally at ten, no one could hear as no one is near, to the peculiar empty palace, yet in the shadows are guarding and observing. He draws a smile as he looks at the open doors of the deep chamber and below where a cry, but a tone of disobedience that is the price with a consequence of torture is there for him to hear. With the very familiarity of the voice that reaches his ears and the inevitable and predicted predicament of things, he whispers. “Well, well, well. They took everything
(INTO THERED SKY) “SAY, WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE A DEAL WITH ME?” With an evil smile and a tempting aid, yet rather a deal Clay could not resist, and to the desperation to save the girl he dears more than anything to this very world. His eyes dim in their color as the beating anger that for a second collapses with hopeless rings back and more, he asks. “If you can give me what I wanted, then I’ll gladly be of your service.” Clicking his tongue as a sinister smile crosses Arthur’s face, he confirms by a spell yet rather in a gesture and immediately with a snap of his finger. His chains break as he falls weakly onto the cold floor where he coughs blood, yet forcedly stood upon his knees to face him, where he asks once more.
(THE BIG BAD WOLF) SILENCE AND EERINESS. That’s what surrounds her realm and is very void. To the ticking clocks and the mirrors that surround her throne room. She slowly fans herself as she calls his name. “Arthur.” Gently, yet in a mix of a warning and a reminder. She who knew him all his life, the one who took him together with HIM from the night and every day of his execution, where his very life is destined as a tool for the both of them. She who knew everything about him, and him who cannot hide a single thing from her. She notices his presence as she always does, whereupon her call, he stops and turns his head back answering. “What can I do for you, Chie?” Calling her with her name as honorifics never settles for the both of them. She
(CURSED) PLAYINGthe symphony of Mozart’s ‘Rage of the Queen of the Night’, HE smiles as HE satisfyingly embraces the meaning of the piece. As each pluck and tone of the piece signifies the games and the encircled paths of the played lives of the people within the current book, HE’S playing against him. To the manipulation of the other, the games that are springing and fast, and the very sins that are creeping their way and worst towards the prominent one’s hearts. Rage could not describe what HE is feeling right now as the very sin of wrath is the sin HE could not accept. To the contradicting emotion from the smile, HE bares the perfect music reflected it all. “LUST, GREED, GLUTTONY, ENVY, SLOTH, WRATH, and PRIDE.” Whispering the name of the sin that repre
(BEHIND THOSE EYES) HUMMINGthe eerie song and the dreadful lock of the piece of music that is unknown, yet puts the horror and chill right down the core of anyone who will hear it sings. She slowly walks into the marble floor echoing her voice to every corner of the mansion, as the place welcomes her with coldness, dimly lighted ambiance, and its very emptiness which she loves and he dwells upon. Now coming into the warmth and the light of the bright flame and towards the room where the luxurious interior of a rich family stands. He is waiting for her, along with the fireplace where he sits comfortably unto the couch of her claimed the throne, and where she stops standing gracefully and greeting. “I’m here, J-K!” giggling as she pla