Prologue:

Author Note: Hi! This is just an excerpt from a story that I am working on, I want to see what you guys think before I go ahead and take off on it. So please review!

BOIL ME WICKED

O’ tower thine tower, where doth you go?

Standing on a strong pillar in which thine heart lies

O tower thine tower, where hath I go? My life is

Withered, destroyed by mad ocean waves.

Hark! I feel the breeze it carries me.

As the sun sets; the moon rises in envious glowing green

Thou hast fallen down and block the stars no more.

By ALEXIS VON GREYWIND

In the dead world, in wars sense past, there were people who did great things in those times, and went unmentioned. People who acquired outstanding treasures and fought the greatest of evils, and went into the new world without a whisper, no trace of their existence, events shadowed in the new times, people now only knowing a sour taste of what it was really like.

So much blood shed during the time of Amar, that it would drench the world three times over. I do believe, during the night (the sleepless restless night that it was) you only saw the aftermath of that day, and days to come and days sense past.

At some points there was so much blood, the moon would be a crimson red, I imagine it soaked the blood up from the earth. Roses were red but rare to be found unless soaking on a wooden coffin. Not yet buried because there was no one to burry them anymore.

Those devil flowers, so gorgeous, so deadly.

Let me tell you, I could spend a whole decade describing to you those scanty dungeon cells. Of course, that would waste time, so I wont. I will only tell you what is important

And what my old mind can remember.

The green cell bars at some point, bran new but that is a time not even I know, now they are partially rotted with moss growing on them squishy and damp from cold weather.

Dungeon floors covered in something blue, cracked in various places cracked with deadly traps if you were ever to step to hard or perhaps step at all.

Once happy people hung from hooks that dangled from the ceiling on chains by looking at them, I can see their past in there dead eyes, open falling, never closing, I can see there last moments as they kicked and screamed until they could kick and scream no more.

My name you ask? I am Alexis Von Greywind. A pleasure I’m sure, although your name I care not, all I care is that you turn the pages and listen to what an old bag has to say.

I only lived a short life, at the age of twenty I became what I died to become. A sacrifice to a God who I hadn’t even heard of, people were cruel in my days. You see, a village full of fear.

It was perfect for the man that lurked within the darkness and the shadows of the early morning sun. Ah, how I miss that bright light that gave cold skin warmth in the morning.

However; now it gives irritation and a hurtful burning sensation like it does to any one of my kind. Skin turns to ash in the daylight; the healing process is slow and painful for many moons.

However, not for him not for the man who is even older than me, one who is never mentioned any more. You can only look to the heavens and wonder where his soul thrives today. Or, if it thrives at all, however in the near future I would soon come to realize. What kind of adventure I was really in for. And I would loathe my self for thinking such thoughts, thoughts of someone who should never again roam the earth.

Of course if the older men were to blame some one for his presence, they would blame me. The youngest of the elders, the only way to resurrect one who has died twice

Is by memory, is by thought of the person; that’s how you keep a soul alive. I guess, it really is my doing.

((Note, chapters from here on out would not be in Alexis’s p.o.v.

Remember if you want more please review! And please don’t leave flames. If you don’t like it then don’t review. And I won’t update. : ))