Eizoku Kage

VOLUME 1

Prologue - Introduction

Setting: Daytime - Winter - 19th November

Tap, tap, tap - distant noises sound almost echoing.

Eerie silence fills the void, just as simple as a brush of wind settles upon rustling leaves outside. The swinging chair creaks as its chains rattle, back and forth in settling motion. Yet it’s unsettling. The streets used to be busy until the population became separated.

Man: “Quiet..” - man portrayed away from viewing, no visual.

A whimpered breath hanging on what seems like non-existent air. Lingering as the scene unfolds. Picturesque from the outside of a beautiful winter home, as wisteria vines creep along the bricks that once were a family home. The clenching of knuckles tapping against wood, noises to further an irritation which is forming its own explosion within. A ray of blood red ice crawling against the floorboards before becoming its own stream as crimson stains furnishings.

That lasting breath is the ending to a life being snuffed out, just like many before it.

She’s not done, a girl is pictured struggling against her will, caught in the pools of blood that is around her - the home is merely crumbling in its existence.

Clock chiming in the background - reference of the Grandfather Clock (within the room).

Girl: “Go away… go away… GO AWAY!” - terrified words build up as the final words become screeched.

Sharp pains of bloodied ice lurch from the floorboards striking in scatters of a deadly assault. Digits that tap against the wooden surface are that of the girls as she uses the blood that’s spilt as a weapon. - crimson is spilled in pools around her and beneath her - There’s a sickening crunch, like a thorn embedding itself through the bone as toes become severed as her own TRAIT works in her favour, but also a burden when she’s the one being bludgeoned.

Another scream - crimson pouring out of the wound - the girl sobbing uncontrollably, fearful as she watches the monster come closer - the monster is cloaked, black, mainly away from viewing.

Man: “Your weak Trait does not work on me.

Observe..”

The monster is playing games.

The stretch of a smile underneath the hood, it’s shadowed so you only see the edges of a dry smirk, tugging through a dark expression as the last thing she sees is pools of black swallowing eyes as a hand outstretched into the air fingertips pointed at the subject, before the arm twists round in motion those fingers closing as though taking the life, - she inhales the very last flicker of life before vanishing.

POOF - dust settles upon the crimson that’s spilled - furthering the blood bath, the rest of the bodies merely hollow shells - one faced down against rubble as light shines in through the crumbling of the home, light is etched upon the dead.