Mercy
Quiet nights, ice moon, ageless fantasies, and the resplendent view of the dazzling night land. These were golden times of remarkable characters of elegance and extravagance. And these times were no times at all. Wrapped in the mist on top of a distant mountain was a little girl named Mercy, and she was part of those whose hands had wrought, and fashioned the night to be this still. Evil did still abound, but Mercy...she was the worst of them all. She had heard in the distant lands of families which built houses with the bones of their dead. She had let her poor ghosts fly to investigate how true this was, and they had returned back with proper news saying, "They are not a threat." But one spirit was free, one she had buried before. She disappeared from the mountain, running through time and space in a moment as everything stood still. There were moving figures like hers, slower, but like shadows in this blurry world known to time, but unknown to man. They were fast, savage...
