By Megan E.

 

Prologue

 

Long ago, there was a world where nothing existed. Volcanoes dominate the realm with their boiling bubbles of thick, hot lava, and their treacherous cries of ashes. The sky that touched the horizon with this land was pitch and had a smokey breath. It could drift a person into a fatal and peaceful slumber.

 

Once, when the world was a newborn, there was nothing in the sky except for the sun. There was dirt that felt as smooth as silk. The sky used to be a baby blue. The most amazing feature, though, was the copper-yellow glow coming from the everlasting sun in the sky.

But now, it  was a waste land. A disgraced and demolished land to whomever saw this world. There was nothing special about this realm. From the pitch skies, to the sulfuric ground, nothing good from this place.

 

The land was ruled by Demons, Devils, and Evil. Demons and Evil were disgraceful and protected darkness itself. Devils were monarchs of the realm and believed that malevolency was a Godly form. These beings were the only life forces in this world. The newest ruler of the land was Diablo.

 

Diablo was the physical description of the Devil, and it did not help that his name meant it. He had maroon bull horns on the top of his head. They swirled around and were decorated with scales like a snake. When Diablo smiled, it was purely malevolent. His smile consisted of fangs, as if he were a vampire. He had colossal wings, almost as big as two of him. His eyes were an emerald green. Whenever somebody looked him in the eye, there seemed to be a radiant glow of pure evil coming from them. He reeked as if he rolled in a pile of garbage. The realm shook when he walked.  

 

He ruled over the putrid land. Diablo made sure that nothing good happened. No greenery grew, the sun never shone, and nobody ever judged his rulings. That’s what Diablo meant when it came to describing good.

 

And nobody ever judged him. They all believed he was doing his worst. His subjects were proud, and so was Diablo. Nothing would stop his reign of terror, or so the realm thought.

 

Within twenty-three years of his reign, something terrible happened. Something the entire realm was terrified to see. At the center of the realm a tree had grown. Not just any tree, a tree that would shift the entire world.

 

The realm dwellers called it, “Arbol  de la Vida.” It wasn’t just the tree’s name that spooked them, it was what was engraved on the tree’s bark.

 

Engraved in Arbol de la Vida, was the shape of a young female.