The White Garden
Heed the dead, follow up the past, and the souls of the people would again grow great. But, what is courtesy to a man without love? Rules grants a responsibility upon the soul of a man, a purpose to live up to the expectations of his maker. A sinner would one be if one walks the wrong path, a sinner is a dead flower and a dead flower belongs to a black garden, a garden of emptiness and loneliness.
Fated enmity was a pain to the protagonist’s ass. His kind had always been at war with the Vampires, creatures of the night that always vied for blood, a liquid tissue that soothed their throats and granted unto them, immortality. That was a trait his kind lacked, they were only considered as strong as their archenemies whenever they had an advantage in numbers.
Fate had always proven to be a provider of an oddity. Amongst thousands of Werwolves, he was but the only odd one which might have been due to his origin. Envious was his kind of him for he possessed immortality but they could do nothing to him since he was their sire, an entity that had lived as long as the oldest Vampires. He had never participated in the war between the two races for he was a hater of battles and lover of peace.
The peace ended when a mortal appeared in the plot. Loved was she by the resident of the white garden but hunted was she by the resident’s enemies. Her blood was proven to be useful to them but how could the protagonist let his hope be hurt by fate? The mortal was the only redemption he had left, for the sins he had committed. So, he yearned for a white garden, one filled with endless peace.
Michael_Millan · Fantasy
