Chapter One: Prophecy's Reborn Again

Two figures stood on a moonlit bridge, one was a woman and the other was a man. They stood together, the woman was crying. As the moonlight hit her face she looked up at the man and smiled. Her ruby red lips curved upward and her sapphire blue eyes lit up. The man approached her. He stood by her, and stroked her hair. He smiled sadly as the strands slipped through his fingers like silk. The woman, whose name was Gwendolyn, turned to him and looked up at him and said, "Why have you come?"

"I'll always be there for you."

"This can't go on."

"What can't go on?"


"What about us?"

"Love." came the silent, unsteady answer.

"I can't love."


"I have no heart."

"Every one has a heart."

"Not me."

"A heart that gives us hopes, compassion, love, friendship."

"It also brings you grief and anger." Silence overwhelmed them. No one seemed to know what to say. The man recoiled as he heard her silent tears. "It was never love, just desire."

"That's all it was?" The man nodded his head. The woman slowly approached him. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. Then she whispered against his cheeks. His cheeks tingled as her cold breathe blew against it.

"I love you."

She backed away from him and then looked out to the river and sighed. Her heart was breaking every minute he stood there. She walked towards the river and looked down at it. It was so far below them. She sighed and looked back at the man. "I'll be waiting for you." And with that she quickly jumped off the bridge. The man ran to the spot where she once stood and looked down at her falling form. Her golden straw hair trialed after her, she held her arms forming a cross on her chest, closed her eyes, and slowly anticipated a hurtful collision with the cold winter like water. After what seemed forever both to Gwendolyn and to the man, she hit the water with a fierce scream. Then the night went still as if nothing happened. The man rose but he kept his head down. He looked up at the moon light and his face glowed with the moon's rays. It was Prince of Melodic, Prince Saran. His tears slowly trialed down his cheeks. He cupped the cheek where her lips last touched. It still tingled with desire; desire to hold her, to kiss her, to love her. He loved her, but with his stubbornness and pride he killed her. He walked back to Melodic, the harmonious city, and walked back to his castle.

Once in his room, he kneeled on the floor with a velvet box in his hands. It was about two feet long. He opened it. In the box laid a jewel encrusted dagger. The man took the magnificent blade from the box. He held the deadly dagger with two hands and slowly slit his finger. It was sharp. He winced as bitter sweet pain entered him. But, he made no sound. He guided the dagger to his heart, which he claimed on not having and plunged it into him. His corpse fell to the floor, lifeless.

When his spirit got to the Land of Forever, he searched for his lost love. Unbeknownst to him she was not there. She was not dead, for when her body collided with the waters the angels whisked her away to the Lands of Scamanders. There the barbaric citizens grabbed her and enslaved her. That was the way she spent the rest of her life, which wasn't very long, for when they caged her in their prison cellar she dashed her head against the wall continuously. She died. She didn't go to the Land of Forever where her forgotten love was. She didn't go to the hellish Plains of Screams.

But, somewhere between. Some where between, where the wind whispers silent love, and where the waters scream of sadness. The hell and heaven of Baal. The abandoned. She was abandoned. Ropes of cold steel gripped her body. The sadness of life filled her and the whispers of her silent love surrounded her. And she forever cried in the celestial hell of Baal, the abandoned. And every thousand years she was called down and born again, where she had another chance to love, her lost love. But every chance she died again and again. She cried again and again in the hell of Baal.

Her heart's pieces shattered every time. And so she cried as the ropes of sweet revenge gripped her body, holding her so as she won't run. Run from the whispers and screams. And so the prophecy continued, every thousand years.