Prologue

The world was red, she thought at first that her eyes were closed, and her eyelids reflected the bloody wrath of the sun, but blinking wielded no respite from the crimson sky. Three black orbs floated around her, they ate the mountains of dead trees and limp bodies. This world is dead. There was no growth or spring, there were no flowers and rivers, it is a desert of Misery and She was its King. Behind her stood an army, they waded in and floated, disembodied figures, every life belongs to her, every soul she commanded.

They drifted ominously forward towards the black, lifting her hand before the ever-moving tide of souls, she wandered if it would ever end. They moved and moved. She saw the black wraiths walk across the sky into the abyss, she saw the orbs devour them, she saw the red desert speak its only language. The words of destruction.

Here she could see, blood dripped down her throat and onto the cloth wrapping a nimble and weak body. Many of them were still slightly human, but blurred, as if they're bodies had been pictured sprinting. Most of them were only shadows, black and disembodied too far to be human. They were only entities. She wandered if her hands would bend and break into something unhuman, she wandered how long it would take for her to wither into nothingness.

"Am I gone?" her disembodied voice said from nearby. "Was I ever meant to live?"

Apart of her had already learnt the answer, and a part of her would not live again even if she could. One of the wraiths which circles her stopped for a minute. A dash of purple in the black. A remnant of a time when they had been alive. She knew the wraith circled her but no name came to her mind.

Desperation bit at her and she clutched her head. They had a name; she had a name. They all had a name.

She heard a whimper from a voice she could almost recognize.

"Who am I?"