It all seems so unreal—people shouting, screaming, all trampling over one another and killing each other, intentionally, unintentionally. It is the battle of Armageddon. Outside my window, I see the Thiraku, the soldiers of the underworld, coming my way. I hop down from the window and hide behind the chair. From all the stories Grandmother had told me, I am old enough to infer that they are not people to mess with.
Come here, Grandmother’s voice echoes in my head. Come sit on my lap, Liezak. Grandmother shall tell you a story. A story about the gods. And of course, she also told me about the demons and ghouls. How they always lost to morality.
Grandmother had passed away last month, leaving me all by myself. I am only seven, and life had already been quite hard when she was still around. Now I have to stay alive and away from the Thiraku by myself. I’d recognized them instantly by their hooded cloaks that swept the floor as they glided. The sight was so terrifying, yet graceful at the same time.
I have to hide somewhere. This chair is not of a very big size, so I would be discovered rather easily. My eyes scan the room once, twice, thrice. I still couldn’t think of a good hiding place. Although the Thiraku do not make any footsteps, I could feel their heavy, dark presence nearing. The table is too low for me to hide under, and there is no other room in the entire cottage.
The pressure gets heavier and heavier. Suddenly the door is knocked down. My heart in my throat, I whip around just in time to see the Thiraku standing in the doorway, each of their faces emanating a different aura. One face looks strangely familiar, but before I could recognize who it was, my vision turns black. I see nothing. I’d lost my sight. Had morality finally lost to evil?
No, I hear a voice say. We finally win. A hiss. Then silence.