The sound of galloping hooves echoes through a dark, wide alley filled with lime bricks as a slim, well-built figure race by on a white Mustang with irregular dot patterns.

  The horse and man duo darted through street lights after street lights, jumping over wagons after wagons. His brown hair gleamed in the fluorescent moonlight that irradiated the technological marvel of the city of Aether. His breath formed a thick fog in the frigid winter air. His fingers were clutched onto the horse's curb rein and snaffle rein, and his fingers slowly turned blue from the cold. However, the fire burning inside him warmed the breeze that crept through all parts of his body.

  "I must make it," he gasped in the winter air.

  I can't....fail again, " he stuttered, shivering.

  Meanwhile, a woman squirms in pain, her screams filling the air with a painful shriek.

  Her white robe was stained with sweat, and her red hair was silky and creeping into every corner of her face. The nurses, dressed in yellow gowns and a yellow face cover, swarming around her like flies to an abandoned fruit, frantically instructed her to push harder; however, she glared at them.

  "WHAT DO YOU THINK I HAVE BEEN DOING," she groans, gripping the bed frames.

  " SUCKING THE BABY IN? I ...." interpreted by the pain of childbirth, she shouted, pushing one last time and bringing a newborn into the world.

  The jagged, cloaked figure continuously rides, dodging empty street carts and maneuvering through the empty streets of the Aethers.

  "Soldiers of the dead," he smirked.

  "they couldn't find anyone else to do their dirty work," he murmured while crouching on the horse.

  " Those politicians really never learn they can not stop the inevitable; my family will bring an end...." He paused, halting his horse for the large wall looming at the Alley's end.

  His hands shake, struggling to keep the horse's reins from slipping through his hands. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he gently turned his exhausted horse around to face his pursuers.

  He laughs, his voice echoing like wind picking up sand in the hot desert.

  " Come on, come at me, do your worst. Death means nothing to me anymore," He grinned slightly as shadowy figures approached from the distance.

  " I hid her somewhere far away from your reach; the bloodline of Midnight lives on tonight," he yells at the pale assailants, his voice quivering slightly.

  " My son," he murmured under his breath, water dripping from his eyes. ' I am sorry for the cruel burden you are about to be born with."

  Upon hearing his words, the pale figures forcefully came to a halt, almost taking off their horses' heads. They looked at each other, agreeing without uttering a word. Then, they locked eyes with him, gazing into his soul and causing shivers down his back.

  The creatures systematically opened their mouths, exposing their rotting tongues and razor-sharp teeth. An eerie voice spoke through them, syncing every sentence they spoke.

  He covered his nose. ' Wow, I can smell your bad breath from here. Didn't your overlord teach you how to brush your baby demon teeth?'

  A female voice sharply spoke.

  " MARCEL OF THE FAMILY LINEAGE OF MIDNIGHT, YOUR FAMILY CAN NOT ESCAPE OUR WEB OF FATE. WE WILL FIND THE BOY AND BRING AN END TO THIS TROUBLESOME BLOODLINE THAT HAS PLAGUED US FOR THOUSANDS OF YEARS..."

  "Yeah, yeah, that's the same speech you gave my father and his father before him, but here we stand stronger than ever. You can try, but we are some stubborn bastards; killing all of us will be harder than you think," Marcel interrupted, smirking.

  They shut their mouths synchronously and immediately galloped in the opposite direction in a hurry, paying no attention to Marcel.

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  He watched as they rode off, losing sight of them in the shadow that cast itself over the streets.

  He removed his hood, revealing his hazel eyes and rough skin. Using his wrist, he rubbed the water from his eyes. Then, he extended his arm and body towards the towering moonlight, basking in its warmth.

  He gave an enormous sigh of relief, resting his stiff shoulders.

  Wasting no time, he extended both arms parallel to each other. Extending his fingers as if he were reaching for, no yearning for something unseen.

  "First configuration, the breath of the moon, the wave of the dark side Luminescent," he chanted, his voice weaker with every word.

  Tiny white light particles slowly emerged around him like dust glimmering in a ray of sunlight. They slowly reached the center of his palm and spiraled as they inched closer.

  In a matter of microseconds, he was transported to a room filled with bustling housemaids wearing all yellow who revolved their attention towards one figure.

  "Mary, my love."

  Mary lay exhausted on her bed, with a newborn warped firmly around her arms. The baby held tight, not wanting to lose this new warmth. The baby took after his father but kept his mother's simmering hair.

  She looked at him, relieved by his arrival. Her eyes lowered and relaxed, showing a piece of her ocean-blue eyes. Her face was pale and filled with sweat, and her hair was messy and wet.

  "Marcel, it's a boy like the scrolls foretold."

  He hurriedly rushed to her side, grabbing her hands and the babies.

  " Oh my Mary..." He brushes her forehead, trying to organize her hair.

  " I have missed so much already; it breaks my heart."

  Using all her strength, she grabbed his firm hands and placed them on the insignia on his chest, which was a shield with the face of a lion eating a snake.

  " When will you learn? Your presence is more than enough for me," she said, speaking warmth into him and settling his pacing heart.

  Her eyes widened.

  " I hadn't even thought about it, but what will we name him?" she looked at the baby, who was settling down after hours of screaming.

  He scoffed. " Well, he has my hazel eyes, your silky hair, the heart of a fire. Let's call him Montclair."

  Mary's eyes widened even more, and water streamed down them. She sniffled, " You named him after grandfather, why?"

  He smiled. " I know our culture only allows the men to name the birth of the child, but I don't care about any of that crap. I..."

  He paused, staring deep into her eyes. " I know how much your grandfather sacrificed for us to be in this moment, so naming my son after a legend like that is an honor."

  She lunged in for a hug, embracing her family one last time.

  " A name the weavers will never forget," he murmured softly.

  The moment of joy only lasted for a brief moment. When a dark figure emerged behind him, instantly spreading dark dust-like particles around the room. The figure loomed over him, staring down at the family, scrunching his face and gulping down vomit.

  Before Marcel could react to the danger that emerged behind him. He is impaled by a perfectly crafted steel blade with rough edges. It went through his right chest, spilling his blood on the tile floors.

  " Ahhhhh no no no how." He reaches for his family as he fades out of consciousness and tumbles to the ground, covered in his own blood.

  Mary and the maids gave a loud shriek, their bodies frozen in place. Mary hurriedly shifted back to the hedge of her bed, but her movement was limited. She groaned as she moved with her baby.

  The figure grunts, waving his hands.

  " Silence them; their voice irritates me," he spoke with a deep raspy voice.

  Immediately, shadowy figures emerged behind the trembling maids. Slitting each of their throats, covering the rest of the floor with a massive pool of blood.

  The figure grabs a white snow-like handkerchief from his right pocket in his leather coat and wipes the blood from his face. He forcefully slaps the side of his head with his palm, twitching his right eye. Then, he takes the same handkerchief and wipes his blade of Marcel's blood.

  " Marcel..."

  He paused as he grabbed his lifeless head. Rattling it in front of Mary, she watches in horror, grabbing her child helplessly. He looked her in the eyes.

  He clears his throat. " I hope you are still there. I want you to watch as I kill and destroy everything you have built."

  He laughs, his voice still raspy. " Did you really think you could take on the weavers, and their children would just sit back and let you have your way?"

  He looked at Mary and then at Marcel. He slaps his lifeless head as he drifts out of consciousness.

  " oh, oh, stay with me now. I am not done speaking; you can die when I finish."

  " We, the children of the weavers, know your every move and have been watching you behind the scenes," he chucked, standing up and towing his body by his head. His eyes twitched as he slapped the side of his head with his palm. His blackish cloak creased, and the bells in his booth jingled. He walked towards Mary with murder in his eyes.

  " Stay... Stay... Stay away, demon I...." Mary yelled, calling out Marcel's name.

  " Marcel, wake up."

  " I... I... what your royal privilege does not work here. When you face death, no, when you face me. All I see is weakness," he spoke, causing chills to back down her spine.

  " Tsk, Tsk. I mean, Marcel, the Weavers spiel is that they can see the future, past, and present. It's literally in the description. How long did you really expect to run.?

  He sighed. " No matter, my mission is almost complete. I want you to watch as I kill your last hope. Your precious little family," he gave a sinister laugh.

  As Marcel faded out of consciousness, he watched as a vibrant beam of dark particles slowly merged from the surrounding area and spiraled as they got closer to his hands. He pointed at the family, his fingers spread out. "Die," a large beam of pure dark energy zipped through the room, aimed at Mary and Montclair. The beam moved with one mission, goal, and purpose: to end humanity's last hope from bondage.