Prologue

our story begins....

Rome Italy, 476 AD
The world around was dark. The sound of clashing metal upon armor filled the air, almost drowned out by the screams. Fear fueled the madness, people running in every which direction they could to flee from the fighting. No one knew what was happening, but somehow, the world must be ending. Half the city of Rome had been blasted apart by an unknown force, the source of the energy now lying just outside the city in a small crater, cuddled into a tight ball. Slowly, the pale skinned creature opened it's eyes, testing fingers and feet. Slowly, he stood from the hole, and took his first known steps, walking away from the falling city of Rome.

Northeast Asia, 1199 AD
Genghis Khan was spreading his rule farther across the country, pressing against the Western parts of the world. His rule spread far and wide, his fear spreading even farther. At the height of his battles, one man stood to the sides, watching the fear and pain that he spread, history's only surviving scribe.

England, 1349 AD
The plague spread faster than the paranoia that brought along it. Rats festered the cities more than the sewers, spreading the plague by touch. Slowly, a country once proud and strong was struck my massive death. And once more, an unknown force watched over the people he was both not a part of, and a people whom feared and hated him.

England, 1666 AD
No one knows how the raging inferno began. For three days, the fire burned the sky, turning it black as smoke. People fought to kill the flames that licked at buildings. After three days of terror, little damaged ahd been done, but the images of th eflames were still burned deep into the eyes of those that had witnessed it. The stories told for centuries to come, speaking of a man with wings of fire, standing among the smoke.

France, 1876
Neither figure said a word as they walked together, their steps silent along the foggy banks of the cemetary. Neither of them appeared out of the ordinary, but they were anything but. One, taller than the other, lanky and lean, wore a long coat, material falling just below the backs of his ankles, was bathed in the shadows of his clothing. Even his face was obscured from view, a tight bowlers hat, turned down at the brim to keep his face hidden in shadow, even from the pale light of the moon.
    "I can still see the ring, Seamus." The shorter of the two looked. He was no brighter than the other. His hair hung long, longer than was normal of the time. His eyes were piercing, always moving over the shadows, trying to remove the veil of the fog on the world. He seemed unsettled, walking with the weight of his body on hte balls of his feet, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger.
    He knew, that neither of them should be together. It had been two-hundred and ten years since the last time they had spoken. And their meeting had almost burned down the town of London.
    "Calm now, young Samuel." Sam couldn't help but laugh humorlessly at that. To call him young was laughable, if not really a joke.
    The man named Seamus glanced at him with a dangerous eye from beneath the brim. Somehow, it almost seemed to glow in the eerie darkness of the cemetary.
    "Be mindful, young sparrow." Sam had always tried to shake the nickname. Seamus wasn't exactly well known for being told what to do however.
    "How can I 'be mindful'?" Sam asked, stopping in his tracks to turn to the taller man. His body radiated anger, the fog already swirling to move away from his body, almost as if caught in the tiny rivers of gusts. But, the air around him remained deadly still. "The angels keep telling me that this is a gift. It's not a gift, it's a curse. I shouldn't be able to see these things. I don't want to see these things."
    Seamus stopped, watching the boy, before taking a few careful steps closer. Together, they stared at each other, until even Sam's neck began to hurt from being forced to look up at the taller man.
    "Come now, you know the Angels work-"
    "I swear, Seamus, if you say the Angels work in mysterious ways, I really will deck you." Sam pushed past the older man, his temper finally getting the better of him. A swift movement, barely a blurred shifting of his weight, and his leg drove through the marble headstone closest to him. His foot hurt a little, but the expression of violence had tamed his anger, if for only a short while.
    "Samuel, I feel for you. And this burden you are forced to bear." As always when talking about the mission Sam had been given, Seamus looked away. They all looked away. They knew something that they refused to tell him. Or that they couldn't.
    "You don't know what it is like! You come and go as you please, but yet you never realize what it is like down here. The angels, they sit up in their clouds and look down on us. And for what? For the greater good? I don't believe it anymore, Seamus." Sam got closer, trying to look more imposing. But no matter how big he tried to make himself seem, Seamus always seemed bigger.
    "Do not do this, Samuel." Seamus tried to put a hand onto Sam's shoulder, but before he could touch him, Sam had moved around behind him, their backs only a breath between them.
    "I am doing what must be done. I won't be the lap dog for the angels any longer. If they won't answer my questions, even after all these years... Then I am done." Sam began to walk away, back in the direction he had come. He wasn't sure how long he would walk. Or how far that he might go. But he would know when he got there. Behind him, he left a city full of marks, that would never meet their fate.