Prologue

Varying trials are in his sight.

An angel in the darkness,

Mangled and torn,

Prepared to take his stride

Into the never-ending night.

Reaping the will of the monster inside him.

Every step he takes, an abomination.

She was walking through the broken and shady streets of Whitechapel, England in the year 1888. The time of Jack the Ripper, the mad man who was creeping around Whitechapel killing women as they worked the streets. Couples made up of lonely men and unfortunate women were scattered through alleyways. She couldn’t help but notice a few of them emanated this kind of energy that just screamed with evil intent, especially some of the unfortunates. An unfortunate was the term used for the prostitutes of this era.

            Her dark wavy hair was worn down with no embellishments, and her bright green eyes shone in the light of the street lamps. She was making her way to a small Gypsy camp, and because she was also a Gypsy she would be most welcome. As she walked by alley after alley moans and gasps escaped some of its tenants. The smell of blood overwhelmed her senses as she made her way along Berner Street and she could hear the quick and calculated work of Jack himself.

            The metallic smell of the woman’s life pouring from her veins was almost enough to make her run away and never look back, but she refused the temptation and continued to walk as if this was a regular occurrence. Which, in this place, it was.

            But not many people knew what Jack really was like she did. She could sense it. The buzzing energy he gave off screamed vampire and the red glow of his eyes as she passed confirmed her suspicions. You never knew what to expect in this area of town, but she almost always knew when and where these creatures of the night would turn up.

            She was finally to the Gypsy camp and children were surrounding en elderly woman as she told a story. Considering Gypsies didn’t have a written language, all stories were passed from the adults to the children by word of mouth. The woman’s gray hair blew in the light breeze as if it had a will of its own and her brown eyes were aglow with the story of what they called the Executioner.  Her face was heavy with wrinkles and as she spoke, her voice sounded like it had endeared yeas upon years of use. Most likely from telling Gypsy lore to be passed from generation to generation.

            The Executioner was a man or woman who stalked the night and slayed the most evil of creatures. Mainly the type that had long eye teeth and killed the innocent by taking their life force from with such violence it shook the soul. These people had the power of fire or premonition, along with some other extras. Immense strength and impeccable stamina that no one could rival. The Executioner was normally the one with the power of fire and she had a partner in her fight. A witch who possessed the power of foresight.

            They would head the battle in the war against good and evil, and they would be an unstoppable force. They would save the world from the dark forces that would arise from the depths of hell. They always said it was just a story but she knew it as fact because she was a witch who had the power of premonition; she just hadn’t found the woman who possessed fire at this point in her life and it could be anyone.

            As she watched the children watch this woman in adoration as she told the tale of the Executioner she couldn’t help think that there would be a day that the possible incarnation of herself in the future would be the one to head this battle. This she was hopeful of.  Little did she know she would actually be this person.