And now... Another prologue!

Haha! I have a prologue addiction!

The wind blew in frigid gusts that were too cold for late summer; so cold that anything the wind came into contact with burned with an icy fire. The wind whipped around trees and stumps and over hills so strong that it should have been howling . . . but everything was silent. The forest was deathly quiet. Small animals quivered in their holes and behind bushes, sense paralyzed with fear and ears pricked, alert to the soft hissing of leaves brushing against each other, as the sinister presence moved through the trees.

The acrid smell of sulfur and rotting flesh filled the air as a putrid cloud of mist, blacker than the night itself, seeped up from and across the ground, creeping forward with long tendrils that mimicked fingers as they reached across the ground, cold and foul. The smog thickened and condensed, rolling up and back until the form of a human figure shaped itself from the blackness and breathed in the noxious cloud.

The figure strode forward, its cloak a whisper on the ground, as the tree line drew parallel. The massive trunks, thicker than any man and reaching higher than any tower, coupled with the foul mist, concealed the figure from view. In the blackness surrounding above and ahead of the mysterious figure, shrouded with mist, the only point of light shone dimly in the distance. The small flickering, wavering light illuminating a room in the highest tower.

"Yessssssss," the figure hissed, a coarse and deep rasp that rose from the creeping mist. The choking blackness enveloped the figure, settling in spaces beneath the cloak that served as eyes and a nose and a mouth, seeping into the figure at every orifice. The smoke dissipated, and the figure with it, returning to the creeping tendrils that slipped back in to the thick cover of the trees. It would stay there, and it would wait. Endlessly, if need be. Waiting for the One.

Miles away, Grapelle shivered in to awareness, gasping frantically for breath, for life, for an escape from the choking fog that seemed to have entered into her mind, choking her with tendrils like hands, wrapping her within the endless darkness. Her eyes, blinking furiously, took in the orphanage dormitory around her, and she settled back beneath her covers, heart pounding. It was only a dream, she thought. Or rather, she hoped.

Prologue addiction is a real disease, people. But together, we can find a cure!

Reviews?