WendellzD

Lucas had always been a person without hope for his life, ever since he was a child. This only grew after the person he loved most died, and he realized that justice had abandoned him. The specters stole the Primordial Life, the world's magic was gone, and only a few could still use it. After waking up, following a conversation with his friend and wondering if the gods truly exist, he feels an abnormal urge within himself, being one of the last bearers of magic.

Primordial Shadows

I don't know how much time has passed; I'm still lying on the sofa, with a headache. I get up, start yawning, and snap my fingers. 


No, never mind. I think he must have gone to sleep too. I lie back on the sofa, staring at the ceiling of the house and noticing its reddish color, feeling as melancholic as I've ever been. This red color only reminds me of blood, the moment he was decapitated, his blood on my face. Damn it, Hugo... You didn't deserve that. 


Tears start streaming down my eyes. I can't keep up this fake smile all the time; my mask is slowly slipping. I'm still deeply shaken. Damn it! I try to look at the fireplace beside me, and instantly remember when he took me to a countryside house and taught me how to light it and what it was for. It's in these moments that our best memories become the worst. 


"Damn it! Everywhere I look, I see you." 


Loser's Dream