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Thursday, December 29, 2005


The foreword of my story
Frightened, the mortal Angel Warrior ran, pursued by the priests that hurried to catch up. Turning the stone corridors with instant precision, she wasn’t expecting the head priest to be around the bend, waiting.
She felt two enormous hands enclose her arms and her body was turned in the opposite direction from which she was running. She screamed. She knew where she was headed and was scared of the forthcoming that awaited. She begged her capturer for release, but the decision was made. The prophecy had to be stopped, for it predicted that one holy of heaven would turn and bring about the destruction of everything. They believed that she was the darkness that would cause such tragedy.

The girl, no older than seventeen, wept in a darkened room. Only a single torch was lit and the flickers revealed her newly tattooed skin, scripted with the language of Death, the prophecy that had brought this fate. Chained and shackled, she watched for hours until the flames doused themselves in their own ash, and the temple room turned black. Here, she died, sorrow and pain lingering forever because of the wrong done to the heavenly servant.
Cremated, the priests put her ashes into a stone egg, where she awaits this day for the Phoenix to awaken her, lost in uncontrollable anger and hatred. Three thousand years passed, until the time had come for her emergence. But the one to free her is still for grabs, because if the modern Angel Warrior doesn’t make it in time, the dark Phoenix will arouse a physical body within her and continue to destroy the world………

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