Two thousand years ago:
Muffled, groaning noises filled the townhouse room. The groans grew deeper with every passing moment. With the curtains drawn closed and only a single candle lighting the room dimly, the visibility was bare.
Trailing back to the noises, a man drenched in cold sweat lay on the bed, clenching the bed sheets and his eyes tightly shut and struggling for air. His whole face creased and the obvious look of discomfort and disarray in breathing and continuous tossing and turning of his entire body, without any doubt meant he was having one of those wretched nightmares.
One that haunts people of every disastrous and vile experience of their past that they would do anything and everything in the world to forget, erase, and move on. But the demons that seep into our sleep to the deepest corners of our heart and mind slowly taking over our worst fears and insecurities are extremely merciless and cruel.
They leave no nerve untouched and loathing with pain and agony continues. The seemingly helpless man was none other than the revered hero of mankind, the evil slayer and the light of the world whose presence reassured thousands of people to sleep believing in his protection, Xavier Belfare. But no matter how much divinity he had, he couldn't get rid of the nauseating feeling after slaying thousands of monsters on the battlefield all day long.
The blood on his hands, on his body, made him extremely disgusted and petrified. What was the use of it all? He is becoming more and more of a monster himself. A killing machine that had no control once it was on the battlefield. A maniac. As much as he was a hero to mankind, he was a monster for the monsters. Someone who slayed mercilessly.
He would often question himself at night when all his subordinates would be sound asleep when the people he was protecting lay in their beds peacefully, Why do I lose control when I swing my sword? Why does my hand not tremble when spilling so much blood? Am I truly their protector or will the day come when I cannot distinguish between right and wrong?..
And these thoughts would lead him to those repetitive nightmares every time he had won a battle. It was a never-ending cycle. And today happened to be that very same night, he had won but at the cost of his deteriorating sanity.
"Isn't it tiring? just being a human?",
a nonchalant and cold voice immediately forced Xavier to wake up and as much as a word from someone could bring him back from that unpleasant dreamland, he felt a cold chill pass through his spine. How did he not notice someone's presence?
He couldn't sense her at all and he'd continue to go unnoticed by that person if she'd not spoken first. He quickly grabbed his sword but the pain had not subsided even though he had woken up. He was still huffing and his hitched breathing could be clearly heard in the dead of the night.
He seemed very defenseless and in excruciating pain yet had the mask of a foolish brave man holding onto his sword.
His senses were screaming that whoever was standing in front of him was extremely powerful, possibly his worst enemy.
The Great hero, Xavier Belfare, if someone had seen him at that very moment, no one would believe that he is the same man who was worshipped by the entire holy empire as the strongest hero who dominated the battlefields. But here he was drenched in cold sweat, barely able to get off his bed, clenching the handle of his sword pointing his sword, and struggling to keep it from shaking.
He tried very hard to focus on the figure standing at him by the window frame. A young woman with a long black hood floating along with the curtains of the window. Her long black hair swayed with the wind emitting a faint, enchanting dusky scent.
He remembered shutting those windows and drawing those curtains close when he had gone to sleep but now they were open and the chilling wind was blowing in and the only candle in the room was flickering violently.
He couldn't see her clearly but her long flowing black hair gave her an even threatening aura but what was more threatening were her eyes. As soon as he looked into them, the candle had finally gone dead.
Those blood-red eyes glistened even in the darkness. He had never seen such dangerously beautiful red eyes. He was almost enchanted by them when he suddenly pulled away from being lured by them. He screamed at her,
"Who are You?!"
She took a step toward him and he immediately jumped off to the other side of his bed. Now on more guard, he again questioned her,
"Who are you?"
She continued taking a few steps and stopped finally at the other side with only the bed being between them. To his surprise, she sat down. He looked at her more confused and lowered his sword a little. He let his guard down for a brief moment because of the unexpected situation. An unknown woman whose presence wasn't detected by him now sat on his bed after sneaking into his room in the dead of the night. She slowly caressed the bedsheet with her head down staring intently at the white sheets.
" I can easily kill you right now." she said with a straight face caressing the sheet. Those few words sounded extremely terrifying with her bewitching voice.
Again the unexpected response made him jump with surprise. He immediately raised his sword with a more solid grip than he had earlier and gritted his teeth in frustration.
"How can I lower my guard right now? This woman is dangerous!" he said to himself and tried thinking more clearly. He was at his lowest right now. Totally unprepared and weak and if she was indeed as powerful as she seemed, she could succeed in killing him. He needed to focus and use his powers.
"Xavi" she spoke again but this time in an eerily softer tone looking straight into his eyes.
His blue eyes lit slowly this time. He stumbled and almost dropped his sword but somehow managed not to. He muttered slowly, under his breath.
"How?...just how? his face creased one more time. His eyebrows were knitted firmly and his eyes were losing focus again. He grew pale as he remembered how only his mother called him Xavi. No one else knew, only she did but she had been missing for decades now so how? Who is this woman?
His hands trembled as his voice grew desperate and he yelled at her again so loudly that he would wake up every single one of his subordinates, his voice would wake up the townspeople yet he screamed at her at the top of his lungs,
"WHO ARE YOU??!!"
She got up from the bed and walked over to him. He froze as she walked over, her light steps, her motion, and the way she walked stirred up his insides. She had completely influenced him. He was enraged, confused and disturbed, and somehow enchanted.
As she came closer, he felt his throat dry up and his body stiffened. She touched the tip of his sword and lowered it. He couldn't do anything as if his body wouldn't listen anymore. As if his body was completely under her control. She leaned a little closer and finally whispered in his ears,
"Let's play next time, Xavi." As soon as she said it, a smile appeared on her face.
The sound of hurried footsteps from the hallway seemed more and more closer. His screaming earlier had alerted his subordinates. They were ready to barge in and as soon as they did, she vanished into thin air.
His men barged in and looked around everywhere only to find no one there except the shocked hero fallen on his knees with his eyes wide open and clenched fists landed on the floor. An unexpected ally or enemy had flipped his entire life over. He was now uncertain of the future. Uncertain of that bewitching woman's identity and what secrets she'd hidden.