"As everything sinks into darkness,

where the candlelight that flickers in the distance cannot be touched,

Above them, the moon appears stained with a bloody hue."

             The world gradually changed, disappearing into the shades of a veil of fog, sifted through the  ash, and the twilight brought monsters to life. Darkness became a part of it. In the dense and whitish fog, the powerless silhouettes were the ghosts of a world that had fallen into depravity.

            They were walking corpses, in which, one by one, the smell of death permeated. A smell that they adored, that kept them alive. It was like a living presence.

            Under the furiously blazing sky, the river suddenly came to life with the reflection of an inferno within it. The abysmal stillness of a cold winter's night was disturbed by the sound that heralded the fall of a den of evil. Snowflakes mingled with the ash, creating an enchanting yet deceptive setting. A sinister cloak.

           Above him, screams of agony echoed across the island surrounded by a massive iron fortress as the place was smeared with blood. Lost among the ghosts, a boy felt his body numb and could no longer breathe. The pain radiating from his shoulder was sharp and seeping through him. Suddenly, he heard an unfamiliar voice coming from behind. He didn't fully understand what he shouted, but he suspected one: "Run, don't stay!".

            The wind howled through the bare branches like a hungry beast. Everything was still as the trees seemed to have breathed their last, being covered in snow and adorned with ice. The landscape in front of him was taken as if from a painting. It was charming and sedentary, clad in a cloak of silvery ice that shone in the funeral firelight and tried to pierce the thick ash clouds.

            He tried to run, but his body wouldn't listen to him. The young man lingered on the spot, staring lost on a pair of hungry eyes that watched him from the hollow of an old tree, mesmerizing him.

            His breathing was jerky, and a shiver of terror ran through his sweaty body, seeing how the clearing suddenly lit up like a flame.

            Suddenly, with a touch, cold shivers shot through him like a bolt of electricity, making him jump up in fright. He was scared and couldn't really see through the fog created by the thick smoke of a fire that was wildly devouring the dry old trees.

            "Where are you? Are you still alive?" a woman's voice was heard a little further away, but it dissipated just as quickly.

             It was an echo of a ghost. That's what they all looked like in that place on the Isle of the Dead.

            The boy wanted to scream, but someone cupped his dry, chapped lips, then took him in their arms. He tried to see who it was, but the warm liquid of blood smeared over his right eye.

            He suspected it was a scratch on a tree branch, but in that chaos it could be anything. He closed his eyes to escape the burning nightmare, and his body became lethargic and heavy. The only thing that remained imprinted on his mind like a tattoo were those two eyes like two pearls, shining in the darkness, in their nacre reflecting two circles of fire... and fear. A palpable fear that devoured him, scorching his whole being.

            Everything around him became blurred as fear gained the upper hand over all his senses.

            In the end, he realized that all those who lived in the darkness of the forest were becoming ghosts. As a child, he was repeatedly told that darkness lingered in even the most innocent soul. It was devouring him, molding him, creating monsters.

           He took a few quick breaths, feeling his heart pounding in his chest, making him dizzy. He would be burned in the hell he was born into, and his only escape was a rickety, rotting bridge that no one had tried to cross in years.

             As he rubbed his eyes with his arm,  in front of him he saw only a long blond hair fluttering in the hot breeze. His face was stained with blood. He didn't even flinch as a log collapsed under the weight of the fire. A crackle like an echo blocked out any noise or words coming from the one standing beside him.

            The young man which was there with him, grinned and grabbed the boy by the collar of his sooty shirt and without another word, threw him into the chasm that separated the Isle of the Damned from the rest of the land. All he felt at that moment was fear, as the darkness took over him, embracing him as he fell.

            He closed his eyes, leaving his body bathed in the pain that passed through him, as if he had been thrust directly into thousands of needles. When he opened his eyes, all he saw in front of him was a diffused light, passing through a filthy fabric.

           The young man took a deep breath, feeling a cold sweat trickle down his entire body, but he calmed down, slowly. His senses mingled like a set of cards, hearing the heels of his half-sister, who stopped in front of the door. There was a piece of metal between him and the fallen world...