The City of Lights

 In an age where plague had skyrocketed and thousands died to the underworld that surrounded the lasting habitable regions, a man founded a city to escape from the evil of the world. And stepping into it, Rita saw firsthand the life that shone on every street and house that paved the way to the center of the city.

 It was sure to catch evil.

 Mothers hung lanterns on the dozens of strings that connected to every home, giving a new, bright future for their children to look towards. Families gathered on the roads to celebrate the Lunar New Years, lighting fireworks, eating Japanese cuisine, and speaking to their neighbors in languages Rita couldn’t understand. She went to a nearby theater, where the notes of a piano rang into the back of her mind, soothing her discomfort, for she did not believe she fits in this kind of world. Because for the first time in her life, she felt as if the monsters and Satan had never even touched the Earth’s landscape. And truly, hell had never once made its presence upon the city of lights.

 But it was sure to catch fire.

 Instead, before she or anyone knew it, the whole city, which was covered in all kinds of colors, had blacked out. Panic immediately suffocated the theater. Yet, Rita didn’t react, her head trying to understand what had happened, shock taking over. It had been a month since she was knighted, and this was the first ever time she had faced a situation that required her attendance. Standing up from her seat, she quickly took hold of her sheath and ran towards the exit of the theatre, only visible by the intruding moonlight. But as she made it to the stairs, a clanging sound beneath her froze her.

 She was sure to catch death.

 Not even realizing, her sheath had dropped onto the floor. Instead, she was too focused on the sound of the piano playing so eloquently… and the fact that it hadn’t stopped. At first, she thought that an unnatural force had stopped her from moving, but a worse revelation came to her–it was her. Where the piano was at, a man with dark blue hair and eyes was not phased by any of the panic, and he kept playing the song that slowly turned from comfort to dread. Rita, figuring out who that man was–Melancholy–was petrified. The man was someone who she had been warned about by a previous foe who had power undefined by the matrix of the world, and if they had believed he was dangerous, he was dangerous. And as if to tease her cowardness, the curtains of the stage had closed, covering the already darkened stage, and the play of the piano had ended.

 It was meant to catch sin.

 “The lights are beautiful. You are beautiful.” Those words were spoken, a heavy, Chinese accent rasped as if uninteresting, and with everyone already gone except Rita, she had no choice but to believe it was spoken to her.

 It always is meant to.

 “Let us take a sight at tonight, where the kingdom shall finally meet its ruin. For we are sinners that must atone for our sins. Isn’t that correct, Wrath?”

 Because she existed.

 Truly, hell had never once made its presence upon the city of lights, until Rita–Wrath–had stepped foot onto its gates.