Ezio Auditore da Firenze

English Ext One Winged Angel

Elbert Wan

A swift gust of wind lifted the dust from the road, swirling towards the cross roads, drawing the crowd closer. Not a word was said, not a sound made, even the trees did not whisper, the silence deafening. The black crows lining the fence squawked once, their shrill voices piercing the descending mist, and I suddenly realised that I was truly alone. As the black sun rose in the distant horizon, it illuminated the dark crooked trees, long ago slaughtered by the body we used to call mother-nature. I cautiously approached the crossroads, each step electrifying the hairs on my neck. The prospect of a single truth, a word not heard of in a very, long time, had persuaded me to believe in a dry dusty note. The effects of human life, the day to day actions and reactions, were nothing but a faade of the web of lies carefully spun so that each thread would be invisible. I was a coward, not daring to fly near the web, but instead escaping the misguided reality and diving instead, into my own. It was only after a while, that I saw why there was such a labyrinth of lies, trying to form a wall against the horror within the bowels of the Earth, the real Mother-nature, the demons and ghosts and mutilated monsters. Every twist and turn in the uneven road, every gust of wind, they would stare at me, bloodshot eyes bulging, crooked teeth gnashing, watching silently. Fear had long ago numbed my sense of emotion, the silence numbed my feelings but the eyes never failed to pierce my soul, feasting on the remnants of happiness that remained. And then came the day, of which I had lost count of, another road appeared, exactly the same but crossing the path of my own. Who would ever think that someone would come to this desolate reality, and not recoil with disgust and horror before jumping back through. A spark of hope ignited the dried, dead leaves of my soul, burning brighter than the black sun and illuminating the way forward, where the roads met and ended. Pulling out the note again, I read inaudibly : When one finds the soot Where the endless roads meet One will uncover the truth And so all shall weep The blank landscape had changed rapidly as I neared the dreaded crossroads. The sky was brighter, the black crooked trees visible and also the bodies of the monsters. Even looking at them, my heart caught in my throat, their bodies were rigid and grey, although stained in several places with dark purple blood. Sometimes spines stuck out grotesquely, the mere vision was too much. But the hope of finding the one thing I had never had in my menial life, kept me walking down the road, looking back occasionally through fear. And therein the crossroads lay a circle of soot, surrounded by shiny black crows. They fluttered away, perching on a fence blocking the way beyond the meeting of the roads. A single screech pierced the air as I dug my hands into the soot and the monsters started to move towards me. A single tin box revealed itself in my dirty hands as I dug desperately, containing a torn piece of parchment inside. As I unrolled it, the monsters let out screams of hunger and agony as the mist slowly descended, covering the vast, barren landscapewith me at its center.

Ezio Auditore da Firenze

English Ext

Elbert Wan

The truth is humans were neither above nor below, neither an angel or a demon, nor the monsters that belong in a worse place, vampires, werewolves, ghosts. The truth IS we only exist as One Winged Angels, never able to fly, but always reaching up into our own heavens...