The streets were barren. Void of all life during the midnight hours. Not a single soul stirred (among or within) the darkness. None were brave enough, and none were capable of making it out alive. The city, despite it being bustling in some areas, was alas a deadly place to be.

So the stories said, at least. Anthony Wallace was an athlete - strong, intelligent, and definitely one who can stand his ground against muggers and murderers. If the mugger tried coming after him, he would land a punch so hard, it would shatter their jaw. Then, after the attack, he could dash down the streets and dial the police faster than anyone else he'd ever seen. And a small knife, given to him by his uncle, was also there as a last resort should all else fail. He was set and ready to go.

Anthony proceeded down the streets quietly. His jacket was on tight and zipped up as the wind blew its icy attack at the athlete's face. His hand was firmly placed on the knife, ready to open and attack in self-defense. He hated walking in the night. But since he was hoping to be somewhat responsible for his parents, he refused to climb into the seat of a car with a drunken driver and plenty of equally disoriented friends. So instead, he quietly strode away with hopes he would get home safely in the dark.

The athlete sighed and rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. His breath created a foggy cloud in the process. He was definitely weary from the extensive walking. It had been five blocks already in the suburban neighborhood he resided in, excluding the distance he walked to get towards his subdivision. He stopped and looked off towards the distance, seeing that he was so close to his home on Murphy Way. A smile crossed his lips and his place picked up. Just a few more steps and he'd be so close to lying down in bed and passing out.

He felt another icy wind pierce at his face. He grit his teeth at how cold it suddenly was before pulling his jacket up, shielding his face. Anthony sniffled slightly. How cold could things possibly get within the five minutes before? He grumbled under his breath and trekked onwards.

But as the next gust of wind blew past him, he heard a hissing noise among it, sending a shiver of both cold and paranoia down his spine. He whirled around, looking anxiously at his surroundings and in the direction of the wind. Nothing. It must have been his imagination. Or the wind must have carried the sound of trees rustling in his direction. However long that sound had been traveling. Anthony let out another smoky sigh and turned back forward. Just as he had done so, he felt a strong blast of air shoot at his face. The icy wind seemed to jab into his eyes, causing him to shield his face. His sneakers seemed to skid as the wind grew more and more powerful. He felt himself stumble and roll back before quickly getting back onto his feet. He looked up quickly and gripped the knife firmly, looking around nervously. But still, there was no one to be seen.

Suddenly, Anthony's eyes went wide as a strange utterance became audible from behind him. It was nothing he could really make out for it sounded foreign. But whatever the case was, he still felt that eerie shiver run down his spine. Before he could whirl around and slash at whatever was behind him, he felt a sharp jolt surge through his body. He couldn't look down for the pain was too strong. He simply clenched his eyes shut, feeling something warm trickle from his chest down the rest of his body. He felt as though his breathing was becoming shallower and much faster. A sickly chuckle was just barely heard as everything Anthony thought began to turn into a haze. With a quick flick, Anthony gasped in pain as was thrown aside by the object that had penetrated his chest. He opened his eyes wearily, seeing the silhouette of something. Something strange… Something… beautiful…