Where do the dead belong in the world of the living if the living are already supposed to be dead? The year is 3137 A.D. Near peace has been established between the human and demons for nearly a millennium. However, that peace is deeply disturbed when the dead come back to the world of the living to judge those deemed sinful. In return, opening old wounds the world had chosen to forget.

Mystic Dark

My name. That is my name/ Isn't it? I can't really remember. 


Who the hell is calling out my name? I tried to configure the thoughts in my head as epileptic noise buried my thoughts. Murmurs of a unrecognizable foreign language licked my ear as the graces of touch came back to me. Pain. Nearly immeasurable searing pain seeped through my muscles as the smell of slightly cooked flesh scraped the air. It didn't smell too delightful. In fact, it smelled downright terrible. 


My eyes flew open as an audible groan escaped my parched lips. My head was throbbing mad as Tetanus rang in my ears. My jaw was locked shut. I could hardly move. My body lurching and riveting as my muscle still continued to spasm from before. Pain is what I felt. Pain is what I had been dealt. 


The Bark of Female Dogs (Ze)