⚜️𝕾𝖆𝖉 𝕾𝖆𝖒𝖚𝖊𝖑

                                    

                                          
Rain steadily poured from thatched roofs onto the muddy ground. The sliver light offered by the February sun was blocked by gray clouds. The frigid ground was shrouded in ominous fog. The final embers of blazing wood broke as the guy pushed it, looking for his mother and father's ashes. Tears streamed down his tiny chin. The wind blew through his short black hair as he stared out the window, lost in contemplation, at the gloomy sky. His hooded hickory brown eyes were wet. "I'm sorry, mother," he sniffled. He wiped the tears from his golden brown face with his unclean hands on his black blouse. "Samuel" echoed quietly. Samuel abruptly turned to face the young woman. He bit his lower lip. "Why are you crying?" Samuel sniffed and stood up suspiciously. "Mother and father." "They weren't witches," he stated emphatically. Isobelle grinned. "They weren't, Samuel. They were, however, liars. Should I tell you their lie?" she asked as she approached. Samuel glanced at her with suspicion. "They despised you," Isobelle said in his ear. Samuel's eyes welled up with tears, cascading down his strong jawline. "Why do you say such a thing?" he bemoaned. Isobelle smiled and walked on calmly. She laughed as she saw Hate approach the broken boy. "Goodbye, Sadness," she said quietly. She jerked up, startled when two large hands seized her. Before she could draw Hate's attention, a third hand crept over her lips.
Isobelle corrupted seven innocent souls. They were forced to feel anything they desired. Created by their emotions solely to serve Hate. Hate would be alone without Isobelle's assistance. But now he's the commander of a little army of demons... 
Hate, Vengeance, Greed, Sadness, Loneliness, Jealousy, Fear, and Anger. It didn't take long for them to be known as the eight. Every day, their name rang. A new age began. Whispers of a diabolical team. A time of sorrow, loss, and terror. Villages were burned down, and relatives were abducted or murdered. Weeks passed, weeks became months, and Hate's power grew. Travelers and merchants came to a stop, and the small, defenseless communities gradually emptied. Taxes were levied to arm the troops, which exacerbated the starvation. The old got terminally ill and died, while the lads were recruited on their sixteenth birthday. Nobody knew when the horrible cold era would end. While everyone else had given up hope, the world's oldest and most powerful mages banded together in one final attempt to put a stop to this lunacy. It was a night with a full blue moon. Nine magicians gathered in the center of the forest in secret. They collaborated to build the ultimate weapon, forged in dragon fire with unicorn ivory. The great sword was bathed in a bath of holy gold to protect its potency. The sword of the king. A lethal weapon capable of killing the creation of forbidden love. But they were all duped because one of their midsts betrayed them. She formed a close bond with Hate and attempted to destroy the weapon. Her attempt to destroy the hazardous but magnificent artifact failed, but she did manage to curse the secret sword. She cursed the weapon, making sure that only one person would be able to handle it; 
Place in the heart, all evil will depart. But if it is not his flesh and blood, it won't be the devil's blood that flood.
Walls were built around all settlements, children were no longer permitted to play outside, women were guarded by troops while washing laundry, and everything that existed before vanished. Nobody who remembered how things used to be was still alive. All that remains is for the chosen one to rise and free us from this evil before it is too late, or worse...before he finds her. 
 With a dull clang, the hefty leather book closes. With her green eyes, the young woman peers through the dim living room. She now knows for certain! Someone is in the house! She nervously nibbles her pink lip while brushing a brilliant red lock from her tender face. 
She drops the book and glances through her dilapidated farmhouse, terrified. Except for the roaring fire, everything is calm. Is she hallucinating? Had she fallen asleep? She wraps her sash around her arms, shaking her head. What time is it exactly? She stretches while yawning and rubbing her green eyes. Perhaps she should try to sleep. What if her abdominal alignment was correct? It had been a while since she had thought she wasn't alone, but there was no unusual shadow to prove this. However, there was no evidence of a mouse infestation to explain the creaking wood. She is not permitted to read stories at night. That's all. She curses her dumb head and turns again, laughing. As two powerful hands seize her hips, the young woman yells loudly. When she looks into a pair of inky black eyes, she screams. 
"Shh," he says, placing his silver signet ring-adorned finger on her red lips. The core of the ring is a silver French lily encircled by a braided oval line. A crimson crusader cross lies on the ring's left and right edges. Three red diamonds sparkle on the French flower's down. "You understand why I'm here. You just have one chance." In terror, the woman jerks her head quickly and tries to escape his clutches. "Leave her alone, she's just a regular kid." "I beg you," the woman beseeches him. 

                            

                                
                            
                              
                                  
                              
                              
                                
                                  
                                  
                                
                              
                             
                            
                            
                          
                          
As he forces her on her knees, she cries helplessly. The young man places one hand on her shoulder and removes a sharp blade from its sheath with the other. "I can do so much with you in this position," he says with a laugh. The young lady shakes her head nervously. "Please," she pleads. The attacker sniffs amused, his lips curl in a cruel smirk. "Oh, do that," the stranger says quietly. The sobbing woman stares at the invader, certain that he will kill her... no matter what. "She will come for you," she says softly, "trust me... Your end is already guaranteed... Hate"... Hate sniffs again, delighted, and grips her hair. We'll see, he laughs, separating her head from her body. 
Slowly, he climbs the creaking farm stairs. A baby's sweet cooing leads him to a modest attic room. As the demon bends over her crib, the innocent baby in a satin pink dress smiles wide. She makes delighted noises while actively moving her arms and feet. Hate looks into the girl's sparkling blue eyes and strokes her cheek tenderly. As she responds pleasantly, he cracks a smile. He softly grabs her small hand in his. With her other hand, the girl attempts furiously to push his thumb in her mouth. "Finally, you're mine again," he says quietly. The baby quietly smiles and squeezes his finger. "Keep away from her monster," a voice says abruptly. Hate smiles and looks at the brave young man. The young competitor places his hands on the three-year-old girl's shoulders behind him and looks into her green eyes. "When I give the signal, you take her and run to the second house," he says quietly, kissing the toddler's forehead. Hate frowns and turns to face the youngster. "What are you going to do?" he asks, laughing. "That's my daughter"! "No, not at all," Hate responds, amused. "And you know that," he chuckles as he pulls out his sword. When the boy shouts and attacks, the infant lets out a helpless wail, which is followed by a loud baby cry. "Now, baby," the lad yells, leaping to Hate. When her father lands on him, the child rushes into the cot. As the father beats Hate down with a wooden rod, the toddler girl and infant vanish into the darkness. The youngster chuckles and pulls an oil lamp from the wall, "I'll see you in hell," he says quietly, tossing the oil-soaked light onto the velvet.