Prologue

"Excuse me, sir?" a voice echoed across an empty lobby. The voice was that of a twenty-four year old woman named Star. Her relatively short dark brown hair was unaffected by her running towards an apartment lobby desk due to it being tied back in the smallest and seemingly tightest ponytail you might ever see. Her thin black and grey argyle scarf, however, seemed as if it were trying to escape the neck of a murderer with its rapid and almost whip-like movements behind her. She was in a hurry.

Arriving at the desk, she stopped and took a single breath as if her running hadn't even happened. She was in pretty good shape, though not horribly skinny. The man at the desk said nothing.

"Um... Hello?" she responded to his silence.

"There is no running in the lobby, miss." The man did not seem to care much for his job.

"There is fucking blood on the wall in my apartment!" She screamed, ignoring completely his comment.

The man sighs. "Did you or a member of your family, husband, wife, child, parent, etcetera, happen to hurt themself as to cause the appearance of the biohazard?" He was quite obviously reciting something from presumably a handbook of some sort.

"My husband and I literally just moved in and there is blood on the wall behind the leather couch." she had responded, quite a bit more calm than a moment before.

"If your apartment has a leather couch and you did not bring it yourself, it was most likely left by the previous owner. It's their problem, not mine." The man then walked back into a room behind the desk, closing the door behind him, done with the conversation.

The woman sighed, turning it into a growl at the end before heading back to her apartment in defeat.

Arriving at her apartment, she opened the door and was surprised to not see her husband. He was usually pretty good at standing in one place. She began towards the wall on which she found the blood.

Standing in front of the wall, her jaw dropped as she stood before what was now glowing blood. She wasn't much of a screamer, and being squeamish was not her style either. She reached forward and touched the glowing blood.

Pulsating. Her bones began to pulsate and warm up rapidly. She tried to scream but only a small squeal escaped as her skin began to tear in a few places. Her hands grabbed at the opposite arms,  trying frantically to cut off the warmth in her bones and muscles. It was like she was trying to put out an invisible fire. She blacked out.

Awakening, she felt no pain, though the world seemed dark. She immediately assumed she had died and began to shake while pushing through the darkness. She located an exit and saw light once more. She looked around at walls, hundreds of feet tall and each too far to run to but for one that she stood close to. She peered downward. She was naked and standing on... She didn't understand what. It was soft and huge and both black and grey in color. She was puzzled but only for a moment as she realized what it was. Her scarf.

"What the hell is going on..." she said to herself as she began to walk away from the pile of her clothing and sneakers. Her next sight was one of more horror than her previous realization.

A body. A man she had once been close to. The man she had loved. Stepped on. Stepped on and staining the carpet without her ever having noticed that it was her sneaker that had made a descent on the tiny man's fragile being. She fell to her knees. She dreaded the dark magic that made this happen. She was an inch tall and she was crying. How pathetic an existence.