darkness falls

Prologue

Thunder shrieked, shattering the stillness of the deathly silence.

Dark, angry storm clouds gathered in the sky, as though there was no hope of ever seeing the sun again. Wind picked up, slapping the trees. They swayed drunkenly at the impact. As the storm brewed, it instigated the waves, which molested the rocks and shore at the base of a dangerous precipice.

A figure stood on the edge. The silhouette clearly outlined the body of a young man. He wore black jeans and no shirt, and he stood barefoot. The curves of his biceps and back gleamed when the lightning sliced through the blackness, washing his skin to silver. His mop of curly dark brown hair blew against his neck. He faced out over the angry ocean water, his arms outstretched out his sides, palms up. He threw his head back and a feral laugh escaped his lips, sounding almost like a growl. Rain began to fall just as he fell.

He never hit the water.

Again, the feral laugh-growl ripped through the atmosphere. A whoosh flowed through the air. He rocketed up into the sky. Huge black wings had sprouted from his back, from his shoulder blades. The feathers swayed and caught, though not seeming to get wet. No part of this feral boy was getting wet by the hurricane. He looked up at the clouds, and his eyes flashed. "I am no longer Your follower," he shouted into the blackness.

Lightning struck again, a blinding white light illuminating the dark and the boy's features again. Thunder boomed again, and the boy grimaced as a voice began to speak. "If you are no longer My follower, then you shall become one of the Fallen. And I will take the wings that hold you up with Me."

Without warning, the boy screamed silently, and his back arched in unheard agony. He seemed to be held in the sky by invisible strings as his wings were ripped out of his back. Feathers came free and fluttered away in the wind. Slowly, grotesque, tattered bat-looking wings emerged from where the angel wings had been attached. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he managed to spit out, "You're going to lose. They are forming their Army, and all of Heaven is in danger." A strange evil tone had invaded his voice. Eyes still straining from the agony, he spat at the air.

"So let them come."

As if the strings had been snipped by invisible scissors, the boy fell through the air, gaining speed. He sliced through the waves just as the voice said, "Graves, decide your own Fate."