1 Prologue

Clouds rolled upon the horizon, burley and gloomy casting a sheet of darkness over the sleepy village upon the valley. They roared and growled and let out strikes of lightning which lit up the neighbouring woods, they poured rain so bitterly and harshly that the little hare sprung up from his sweet berry dinner and off he hopped away from the chaos that was yet to come. A smart choice.

Lamps that illuminated the village in a soft golden tone were dimmed, chatter and laughter heard from the Inn and pubs quieted as the only sound cast upon the land was the thunder and violent pitter-patter of the golf ball-sized rain. No one dared to venture out from the safety of the roofs above their heads, yet an old crooked woman with an ostrich egg head stumbled over the dirt roads connecting all the houses in the village, mud enveloped her oversized boots, slippery underneath her soles, treacherous in vein. But she made no deal of the daggers falling from the sky and digging into her sore old back, minded not the rowdy youth wind that whistled loudly, tangling her hair and shoving the strands of grey in her melancholy black eyes. The witch of the valley, the devil, the fever of the living, she had many names in many neighbouring counties, was known by the Kings and Queens and was known by every living thing. Feared, respected, hated and or worshipped.

Low moans and hisses of pain were coming out of the small hut with a straw and oak plank top roof. The old hag huffed as she stumbled in front of the door, shoved it open with surprising strength and called out to the owners of the hut. "Time has come for the spawn of evil to be birthed. Let the souls connect and the light fade, let the thunder roar and the fire rage! Let the child be birthed let the chaos connect!" And so she spewed up the words over and over as she stumbled in, crooked teeth and boney fingers embellished with ragged yellow-stained fingernails pointed at the woman in the bed, panting and whining with her legs spread and a hill of a belly. A man by her bedside staring with wide eyes at the intruder paralysed and at awe of what was going on.

The woman, young, no older than twenty with a mane of lush black curls, pale skin and rose stained cheeks, round ebony eyes and petite figure mewed curses at her husband, cursed the child that was trying to get out and cursed the hag, yet pleaded for her help.

But the hag stayed by the door as the woman bled crimson and the man clutched her hand, saying nor doing nothing more. She continued her screeching preach, "The child shall live yet thy shall die! The child shall kill and murder thy! The child shall be the one to cast the shadow upon the land! The child shall kill and thy shall die!"

With the hags yelling was now mixed a phump and a cry soon followed on a huff and a puff and a mewe and a cry. A bowl of a babies cry and the thump and tapper of one's heart. The hag burble a laugh and the corners of her rigged old mouth turned into a grin, grey-toned skin radiating, "Thy shall die and thys child shall live!" and then she added, "Beware as generations upon generations shall seek the same masked fate!"

On the first of September, 1903 was birthed a girl of pure white skin, trained amber eyes and a complexion of beauty that everyone would come to adore. Yet admiration was not the only thing everyone felt towards her. The most prominent feeling was fear. Thus she was the child mentioned in the prophecy of the old crooked hag, the child, spawn of evil that shall cast a shadow on the land. She was the little girl that everyone feared, and rightfully so.