Picture of Chaos enclosed above. This is the prologue.

Castellations of nothingness laced through the dark halls of The Cove, leading me through a path I knew too well. They were rather outdated, an eyesore at most, but if you were living a couple centuries back, you would have deemed them as beauteous.

If I painted the walls black, the room wouldn't have been any darker. The once frilly net curtains at the window became thick with over a decade of grime; nobody bothered washing them. The light that struggled through had failed to light up the room. Strong as it was, all it did was enhance the colour scheme of the once beige carpet, which was more like a forest floor in both colour and texture at the time. The walls, upon inspection, could have been any shade at all, nobody was able to tell, but I remembered painting them a royal blue a couple decades ago.

It reeked of old age. The room was still and quiet except for the hypnotic tick of the old wooden wall-clock hung by a single rusty nail. That was, of course, until my dress shoes started clanking against the floor, each step echoing throughout the almost empty room.

Heading towards the oval meeting table, which could be safely described as one of the few pieces of furniture decorating the room, I took a seat.

Might it had been a table that could have easily fit twelve people, it was always occupied by three; Chaos, Hilaeria and I. There was no need for the extra chairs, they have been unoccupied for eternity, literally, but nobody had it in them to remove them, to take away from the room's nonexistent personality.

I huffed, fingers tapping the old wood in agony. Had they ever arrived in time?

Chaos never did, out of spite, and Hilaeria is too pampered to not have a grand entrance, claiming that it is a necessity for an entity to be 'fashionably late'.

Just as I was about to link the receptionist, the aura of the room changed. Warm was it no longer, for Chaos had entered.

A smug grin on his face, Chaos strode in. We never really knew what exactly was he; he was not identifiable as male nor female by looks, and we never dared to ask. He was no it, that's for sure, since his ore was one of a malevolent man. But his face fluctuated from day to day, each enforcing one side of the counter arguments. He didn't seem to be bothered by the pronouns utilised when addressing him.

He was soon followed by Hilaeria, ever so graceful and pure. Her long nougat-brown hair cascaded down her shoulders effortlessly in perfect waves. A pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes.A sculptor could not have fashioned her seraph's ears and pixie's nose any better, for they were of perfection. A set of dazzling, angel-white teeth gleamed as she shot me a pained smile. It could jolt you like an electric current when that megawatt smile gave you her full attention.

Her plump pink lips were in a pout as she was carrying the compendium, a book woven by the witches of the utmost south of the underworld that automatically narrates each week's most important events of both the mortal and immortal worlds. We were to make decisions as to never disrupt the balance between both, or the balance between the creatures of each. Must I admit, it was a pain, and we were all sick of it.

Noting her expression, I rushed towards her, taking the heavy compendium from her hands, setting it on the table.

Her honey sweet voice filled my ears, a melody, as she muttered a thank you.

"How marvellous! This week's chapter looks juicy, doesn't it?" Chaos stated. If he had pupils, they would have been wide with astonishment right now. He does not. His eyes are white, more or less, not a single speck of colour enlacing them, all which contributed to the fact that he was hard to read. You never knew when he was lurking about your soul, staring into you, stirring and igniting your deepest fears and sending you into a poignant frenzy. He always sent shivers down my spine and bile up my throat. He was not to be reckoned with.

"Tell me about it since, after all, I was the one holding it. Might you ever be a gentleman, Chaos, and carry it for once? It was heavy, I assure you. Please do so next time; I would appreciate it." Hilaeria hazed, digging holes into Chaos' shoulder. She was so beauteously poised. Even if something bothered her, she would never make a big deal out of it.

"Come on, blue-eyed beauty, you know that I was never the gentleman, that's Fate's job over here," he pointed at me, nonchalantly continuing, "he's the one who was raised with manners, you know."

I should've been flattered, but I was not. I was merely impartial.

At that moment, I decided to cut to the chase, "Can we not have an episode of usual bickering for now and get this crap over with? I have series to catch up to."

They both stared at me, shock evident on their features. I have embarked on watching human cable for a while then, and they were taken aback by my sudden interest in soap operas. When you are to live forever, any form of entertainment is more than appreciated.

"What? If anything, series are the only thing humans did right."

They hummed in agreement, convinced by my words.

Hilaeria wasted no time in opening the compendium, and flickering its pages with her fair, lean fingers.

"There we go!"

She enthusiastically skimmed the first page, and her face morphed into one of sheer concern.

"Alpha Jace of La Lune pack in France is thinking of committing suicide; he has not found his mate yet!" She gasped, concern dripping off of her velvety voice.

"Let the lad die," Chaos stated.

"Goodness gracious, Chaos, no. Let's arrange their meeting! Who is she, fate?" 

Hilaeria was one of pureness, the entity of everything good; love, amity and euphoria. She would never hurt a fly. Her gay soul would occasionally lead to leniency in sticky situations, which is why I was always one to balance between both her and Chaos.

"I must agree with you on this, Hilaeria, because killing off an Alpha would result in a lost pack, an end of a bloodline and a whole lot of headaches. His mate's Regina Olalius, a human." I monotonously filled them in on the situation, on how Regina has been studying abroad in the United Kingdom for the past couple of months.

"How are we going to lull her back into France?! They must meet!" Hilaeria exhilarated, throwing her hands up in frustration.

Chaos chimed in, "How about we kill off her grandmother, the old hag's lived enough, anyways."

We bickered about it for a while. I concluded that Chaos' suggestion, gruesome and impassive as it was, was the only way to ensure that Regina would fly back to France, as she was extremely close to her grandmother, Alana.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm with Chaos on this one." Just as the words left my mouth, a triumphant holler came from the devil himself.

Hilaeria sighed, heartbroken for the loss of a soul, but comprehensive of the situation nonetheless. "Can they at least meet somewhere nice?" she paused, " I got it! Let him comfort her at a park where he finds her grieving! It'd be an instant connection!"

I was unable not say no to an electrified Hilaeria; her beauteous turquoise eyes were full of hope.

"That'd be perfect, Hilareia." I earned a kiss on the cheek for that.

The compendium was grasped by Chaos, who skimmed over the next page.

"A Black Lives Matter movement causes chaos in America," he mundanely vocalised, "Can't humans just live in equality? Even I, the entity of chaos, is bored of this hullabaloo. "

He earned a chuckle from both of us. We were indeed trying to salvage Homo sapiens, but they were draining us.

"Let the president hear them out, they deserve recognition. That's a problem for him to solve, not us," I declared, "what's next?"

I was more than exhausted by that point, for the world's problems were on my shoulders, literally, weighing me down. When you are in charge of the whole world's destiny, not a simple task, that I can assure you, you tend to fret a lot. If I were not deemed immortal, I would have killed myself a long time ago.

"Well, there's the angel-elf hybrid. Both species have been quarrelling for ages about what to do with her. Poor thing, the fae's not leaving her alone." Hilaeria said, voice etched with concern.

"What does each species exactly want with her?" Chaos inquired, practically stealing the words right out of my mouth.

"The angels want her dead; she's tainting their reputation," Hilaeria's voice cracked, "and the elves want her exiled from the Tierra de elfos. Her father's strongly against that, and wants her by his side at all costs. The elves are threatening to uprise if their conditions aren't met."

This conflict had been on-going for months. The girl had done nothing wrong, but it was as if the course of nature was against her existence. I have thought about her conflict for days, unsure if there will ever be a decision in which justice would prevail.

"What's the girl's name?"

"Erelah."

The sound of her name rung through my ears, and ,when I repeated it, it rolled off my tongue so easily. It was melodic; beautiful in its own extents.

"Would there be less hassle if she's not alive anymore? I think so." I shocked myself by the words that followed. Might it have been sheer exhaustion that was speaking, but reason was its drive.

"What?!" Hilaeria and Chaos were both shocked; one with elation and the other with pure agony.

"Fate, that's no solution!" Hilaeria voiced.

"Oh, I'm enjoying this." Chaos mused.

"Give her six months to live. We'll make it look accidental. Let her fall off of a building or something like that." I waved them both off, "By the way, this is final."

Both mouths that were agape, ready to argue, were slammed shut. The current in the room was suddenly heavier, darker. I contemplated if this was the right thing to do, as I felt a little off at the time, but I never knew how much a decision like this might create havoc.

Was it the beginning of the end?

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I don't know how to feel about this. Enjoy!