𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐄 𝘉𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘉𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘴

Prologue

Eternity, Immortality, Perpetual Life, Freedom from Death.

Whatever you want to name the concept of the infinite time that never ends, Humanity has always sought it out, no matter how vile the means to obtain it were.

Humans had even created an immense chain of symbolism and deities to attempt to describe something that their mortal minds could not even fully comprehend. The endless snake, swallowing its own tail, the Ouroboros, the Circle, the mathematical symbol of infinity. Symbolically these are reminders that eternity has no beginning and no end.

How tragically romantic and how foolishly idealistic to try to contain in a mundane concept something so wickedly hideous as Immortality.

How can Humanity be so self-centred to desire to ensnarl in their little mental schemes every aspect of the World?

Can they not appreciate the arcane beauty of the Unknown?

Are they not fascinated by the Mystery of the Universe?

Can they not just gaze up at the heavy black clouds and simply feel the raindrops fall on their warm frail skin?

This was the tenor of the musing of the solitary figure perched on the highest spire of the Washington National Cathedral in the city of Washington DC on a stormy November night.

The street below was deserted, but even if there had been someone, they would not have been able to distinguish the black shape on the roof of the church, so it was firm in its unnatural immobility. It could easily pass as one of the many eery shadows cast by the raging storm above. A lightning bolt suddenly ripped through the dark night, disrupting the rhythmic sound of rain falling on the worn-out stone.

"Dismal setting, don't you agree, soror1?" Came a melodious and deep voice from behind the hooded figure.

"You know me. Dismal settings are my thing, frater mei2," the figure replied, getting to its feet. The heavy hood was pulled down by a sudden gust of wind, revealing ethereal features under the occasional flash of lightning. Long wavy white locks were splattered around the noblest of visages with porcelain, pale skin, high cheekbones, a long straight nose, and a smirking lush mouth.

The second persona hummed in agreement advancing on the smirking empyreal creature ahead. It was a man, on his equal pale face blossomed a matching charming smirk. He had the same golden-white locks. "How you can bear this tedious city is out of my comprehension, dearest. So modern, lacking the European taste for decadent architecture. Too bright. I would add a touch of crimson."

His voice came out of his lips like the call of the sweetest of the melodies. Like the hymns of the sirens that bewitch and plunge sailors to their death, it tasted like nectar. It was the richest of honey on the ears of the unfortunate souls that had the misfortune to encounter that deadly seducer.

"You are so dramatic, Heylel," his interlocutor replied in a melodious voice. It had a feminine dulcet timbre, enriched by a mysterious guttural undertone that the male's one lacked.

"Too dark, dearest?" The man asked, nearing the woman.

"Nothing like a drop of sinister humour to snap the neck of existential despair," the beautiful woman replied, her clear bottomless eyes inflamed with a wicked sparkle.

The man's reply was a vibrant, enveloping laugh. "How right you are. Tedium has become my loyal, alas, undesired companion. When will you come back? Not that I missed you, Eurielle."