RUNNING

PROLOGUE: RUNNING

Dust from dust.

Dust from long unused candelabras coiled around one another in a denser weave than the cobwebs that draped over them. Dust from paintings filled with various warring snakes that were hung askew. Dust from golden waves plastered on rounded iron walls. Dust from the weight of a ceiling that could only be found when a thousand tons of rock and dirt were laid atop its cement frames.

Dust from when that same rock and dirt filled miles of winding hallways and unmarked rooms in an instant.

With a wake of swirling dust left behind each stride, a red cloaked figure ran through the maze of a crypt. Their gait was unsteady and imbalanced, with three dim glowing orbs underneath the scraggly hood lighting the way. Each rapid footfall would've loudly echoed against the cracked marble floor had not every sound already been drowned out by the continuous wails of the dying.

Embedded randomly throughout the walls were gates made only of beaten bronze bars, and behind them all were hundreds of appendages that reached for the cloaked figure. Pale thin arms with nails longer than the hands they were attached to scratched at the air. Fleshy wings bent at uneven angles voraciously flapped to hit anything within reach. Fingers thicker than three of the bars combined pushed against the still unmoving metal gates. The limbs were so condensed in each room that no full bodies were able to get close to the open corridor, let alone grasp at the commotion beyond.

Every room passed held those feral screams beyond the limbs. Each one was begging for forgiveness, for mercy, and for death.

The figure kept running.

It didn't matter, it couldn't matter. Not right now.

Only when the cries were long faded, the candelabra fires recently lit, and the dust sparse, did the footfalls pause. The only sounds left to echo in the corridor were the ragged inhales and exhales beneath the shaking cloak.

The three dim orbs flickered out as the figure lifted their hood, revealing a tangle of long black hair with a mix of blood, dirt, and sweat clinging to it. With a gentle touch against the main spot the hair was stuck to, a small hiss escaped between clenched teeth as the black gloves became slick. Upon a slow glance back at the now visible trail of blood, the figure crashed against the near wall and fell into the small pool of red below.

Underneath the cloak was a deep gash into the meat of the left shoulder and clipping the top of the clavicle. The already black clothing underneath was stained even darker around the wound, and only becoming more saturated as time passed.

An opaque vial was popped open and its entire contents quickly gulped down by the figure. A few small clinks sounded as it bounced across the marble flooring after being immediately dropped without hesitation.

The pool of ichor stopped growing as their breaths slowly evened in pace, the rise and fall of the cloak no longer shaking under the weight of the wound, and the gash scabbed over. A slow shift in posture left the figure wincing as the shoulder still refused to regain proper movement.

Yet a swift breeze shook the small flames above, and the cloaked figure was just as swiftly lifted up beyond the reach of their legs.

"Jayne, you insolent brat, what the hell are you thinking?"

A voice boomed from the giant man that now held the cloaked figure up by the comparably minuscule wrists. 

With the swaths of black rags wrapping around the man's entire form, only his left arm and mask broke up the pattern of the tightly knit cloth.

The mask, jade in color and angular in form, held no markings upon its polished finish that would distort the reflection of the cloaked boy held up by the man's arm. Of which, each individual muscle chord of the giant's, from the tips of his fingers to the base of his shoulder, glistened under the equally thick glassy skin, and then contracted.

Jayne barely croaked out a small scream of pain in response.

"No more of your tricks! They are nothing compared to the Word!"

The boy was dropped into a heap on the floor with a wet slap, his red cloak shaking with each gasp for air while facing away from the giant before him. The man knelt down to the boy's level and lowered his voice to a somber tone.

"Please, child, this whole thing can end right now."

Jayne's body stilled briefly.

"All you need to do is repent."

Laughter then rocked the boy's body. Sick, strained, gurgling laughter.

The man dipped his head and sighed with his whole body before he gently reached out and grabbed at the boy's head to turn and face him.

"I'm sorry, Jayne."

Only to find the face was blank, devoid of facial features and only a flat surface of dirty flesh.

"What-"

Blood dripped from the large man's neck, slowly at first, before it erupted and easily coated both of the giant hands that tried to cover the cut. The man wobbled on his knees, body tilting one way and then the other. As the man tried to cry out, to yell, or to even move at all, he fell face first onto the marble. The jade mask shattered on impact, and his body went cold before he could suffocate.

The faceless form of the cloaked boy was as still as the body before it.

It wasn't until the echoes of everything dissipated that a held breath was released and the faceless Jayne turned to ash.

Behind the large corpse appeared Jayne, cloak shifting back to its original shade of red after mimicking the wall behind him. Upon sliding a curved dagger back into its sheathe on his lower back, he knelt beside the remains of the man and gently patted the large back.

"Never were the brightest of the group, were you?"

Jayne pulled back his hood as he joked in a soft tone.

Beneath the nest of dirty black hair was a pearl white mask, smooth and rounded like the blank face of the now ash illusion.

"Don't say sorry if you don't mean it, idiot."

Head hung as equally low as the giant had previously, the boy sighed as he watched the two pools of blood mix more and more.

Shouts rang out in the distance, and a cacophony of metallic clangs followed.

Jayne shot up as he turned to look where the noise was coming from, three orbs of light flickering into existence underneath his mask.

The sounds were getting louder.

He looked down at the corpse.

The sounds were getting closer.

The boy ran.