2089

2018 the year that the discontinuity became known to the Mortal eye. Occults (or the supernatural of which the media originally dubbed them as) emerged from the discontinuity exposing Occults that lived among the Mortals. But they weren’t the only creature to leave the discontinuity, adversary followed. To anyone wondering adversary are the anomalies in the Eclipsed world, they are a greater evil. The Eclipsed was home for the Occults: werewolves, vampires, witches, Nephilim, demons, sprites etc. Many Occults lived among the Mortals, silenced by ignorance that human race held. When the adversaries escaped, it was like hell relocated and settled on top of the earth with great destruction.

68 years later war petered out into a similar silence, however the silence held knowledge of pain and suffering which motivated people universally to move for change. The Occults continued to walk among the Mortal, a lot hide their seal; colored eyes hidden, abnormal hair dyed, birthmarks covered as they were ashamed due to their ancestors’ mistakes.

If I looked out of the window at this very moment, I will see fresh, buoyant grass standing tall and proud. I will see winds whistle a tune of serenity, gliding through the spirited trees. Children now walked with gusto, talking animatedly to their loved ones who stayed quiet while listening with great intent. People walked a lot now, only going by car if their destination couldn’t be reached by foot, they bathed in whatever weather they were blessed with that day. At the moment I’m writing this as the sun burns at its brightest, by the time I finish writing for today it will be night no sun to be seen which is fitting really for where this story is heading.

I am an occult, an immortal. My mark are two rings that convolute around my thumb on my left hand. The two rings symbolise the eternal life that I’m destined to live. Immortals are rare, you wouldn’t come across one on your trip to the supermarket. During my time of being alive I’ve witnessed wars and I’ve witnessed death, I’ve experienced war working among Mortals and Occults alike. This war has been the worst I’ve seen, experienced even. This war took away a group of people I saw as family. People avoid talking about the war but I’m here to bring light to the beginning to when it all started and to one of the most feared outlaw group there was; my group. I’m going to save you the tedious details of their story – don’t worry I will explain on the way. Let me start 3 years after the war started.

2021

The group was small. Situated in a dingy bar, flaky wooden walls assembled together worn down during the years. The building was small, two floors, the bar stretched along the downstairs wall further away from the front door. People occupied the chairs, drinking the alcohol that won’t be around later on in war. The room stunk of bitterness and despair which matched the bleak mood of the room perfectly. Not many people spoke, there was always a murmur in the room, sometimes you will have wild drunks flaunting about but people mostly people talked quietly among themselves or didn’t speak at all. Whether someone spoke or not, the room was always loud. Thoughts and feeling waged a war inside the enclosed room, proving yet another thing we knew about Occults War, you could never escape it.

The bar was run by two men; best friends since collage, Samuel Randell and Carter Saxe. Samuel (aka Sam) was a tall man, low fade hair cut shaped his red hair. His piercing blue eyes embedded with torment telling people his story with just a glance. Sam was very lanky and skinny, plain and boring really like many people during the time however he wasn’t ever afraid to put himself in deaths way to save someone he loves. Carter was always an optimist, a spring in his step where ever he went which scared many others. Carter’s pep was adaptable, in a split second his pep can be replaced with fight. Carter was a well-built man, slightly shorter than Sam. He had long shaggy chestnut nut which sat contently on top of his square-like head and his brown eyes observed as the world went by. The two men not only ran the bar but acted as father-figures to our outlaws.

The Outlaws were talked about everywhere, stretching to the corners of the country. People go to them when in trouble and in a time of need because the Outlaws took no prisoners of war. They got their job done in a detached manner, cold and calculating. People feared them deeply, if you heard the stories that was told I wouldn’t blame you.

“I heard the Outlaws took down Wit’s manner. They burnt it to the ground apparently.” They said, dismay leaking into their trembling voice.

“Was… was he inside?” One sought out although already knowing the answer. The question was confirmed by the grimace on the poor man’s face.

Inside a modest sized study in the bar, on the second floor, was 5 people. Chatting quietly among them and enjoy each other company, they acted like death didn’t loiter their streets ready to take another victim. The study was dull, a simple wooden desk and chair was placed in the centre of the room. A 2 seated chair sat comfortably against to wall closer to the door and drawers lined empty spaces. Sat on the desk chair was a 23-year-old girl named Lacey Rowe, the Outlaw’s banshee. Black hair hung loosely and lifelessly. She had ashen features and her were always lips chapped, her seal was her eyes were barren. Lacey was undoubtedly short but she makes up the lost inches of her body with a fierce passion and anger. To most people she wasn’t approachable, in fact people usually ran the opposite way but to herself pro claimed family she was a huge softy. The banshee communicated with the dead often, she even possessed folk but the sonic scream was powerful and deadly. Often used to fight off an Adversary which got to close or, used at a lower pitch, directed to get her teams attention.

Next to Lacey was boy, 2 years younger, sat to her left on the floor meddling with his newest laptop that he raided from a white picket fenced house. Isaac Brown was a mere Mortal. Even though he was no Occult doesn’t mean he was less impressive or powerful. Isaac was a genius, book and street smart. He had wild short blond hair, green eyes that watched and followed every movement. Isaac was the most daring and cheeky person you would meet but he was never cocky because he knew his limits and he knew his faults. His TGA (Transient global amnesia), which usually occurred in older adults, slowed him down occasionally but his team treat him as an equal despite the nuisance. TGA is confusion that comes and goes during the so many excruciating hours of the day sometimes memory loss occurs prior the attack. It made war hard, but he battled through.

Sprawled out on the primitive carpet was me. Nathanial Ford or Nate. My ebony hair was evidently full of grease and sweat as the blistering heat clawed at my 20-year-old body. As I’ve already said, I’m an immortal. Lazy, bored immortal. At the time I was listening to the youngest girl, only 19, she spoke in a gentle voice to avoid waking the girl laying across her lap.

Delta Turner, the 19-year-old Nephilim. Her silver hair fell just above her shoulders flat while her silver eyes shined with initiative and tales of her old life. Before the war, Delta was timid and afraid, broken and lost. She looked as if one simple word could break her fragile heart and one touch could break her delicate figure well in all honestly during the war her appearance hadn’t changed much. That’s was so deceiving about her, Delta held so much power and destruction in her delicate figure and in battle that power comes out so potent. Isaac dubbed her powers as the Big E’s. Enhanced in every way possible, energy manipulation and empathy. Delta fought with so much reason that she was successful in everything she did and everything she achieved. The girl was stocked to the brim with snark and her wit, people felt like pulling out their hair after 10 minutes of meeting her. Delta and I had the biggest brother and sister relationship, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done for that girl.

Ella Davis was a year old then Delta, a fae also. Her elf ears always protrude through her green hair. Ella was a confident person who loved to be around people and people stories of our adventures, something she always taught me to do because bringing joy into people’s life is the only gem we were going to find in this life. Ella was tall, held herself proud and unwavering to any threat. She admirable that is why she was our leader. She led us into a battle and made sure that we only escaped unscathed.

Delta loved Ella, our resident fae, differently to the way she loved the rest of us and Ella loved her just as much back. They fell in love hard. It was not a fairy tale meeting, no soulmate kind of realization just awkward, wholesome love. Their love never wilted or died despite everything thrown at them, they had this unspoken promise to love and protect each other and never abandon each other because will not be this another time round.

The most fear Outlaw group had many horrors coming their way like in the story books you would have found on library shelfs in 2018 but won’t find in 2089. Their story was reaching its biggest dilemma yet, but were they ready?