Resurrection - Blog Posts

He sat upon a hilltop, watching out over the plane of existence he lived in. He was a demon, minor lord of a plane of Hell. Unfortunately, he was melancholic about his life and the position he was in.

His father was Lucifer, the king of fallen angels, and lord of all of Hell. His mother was Lilith, the first human. In this sense, he was closer to humanity than any of his siblings; the only child of the cursed, immortal woman who had never truly fallen – at least not in the sense that man had.

He had dark, curly hair, short horns growing from his forehead, and black, leathery wings. He wore only a simple tunic, with a belt tied at the waist. He needed no shoes, and he was discontent with his lot in life.

For he was a simple creature, in his own way – all he desired in life was to drink and be merry, to spend his existence harming none in his debauchery. But that was not his job – he was the child of Lucifer, the child of blue flame – he was to be a fearsome creature, a servant of darkness – but try as he might, he could never bring himself to harm a soul – even the blackest among the damned were spared his whip, for he was a gentle soul – despite his appearance and heritage.

He sighed deeply, as his brother came up from the other side of the hill. “Iscarbiel,” hailed the demon, “What are you doing?”

The demon, dressed similarly but with a blue skin and red eyes, pointed teeth and large, curling ram’s horns, a longsword strapped to his side, walked up and sat beside him. “Nothing, Jimarciel,” said Iscarbiel.

“Nothing,” said Jimarciel, gnashing his teeth, “Nothing seems to be all you do nowadays!”

Iscarbiel leaned back, onto the scorched black grass of Asphodel. “Leave me be, Jimarciel. You do enough evil for the both of us, is that not true?”

Jimarciel laughed, a haughty, unearthly rattle. “Indeed I do,” he ceded, “But it is not me that father cares about. You are his favorite, and he demands your presence. Good luck, little brother.”

Iscarbiel got up, stretched, and began walking down the hill, towards the blackened hellscape through the fields of the damned, towards the black castle atop a mountain. His ears numb to the screams of the tortured, he flapped his wings once, twice, and was lifted, flying upwards towards the castle in which he lived, and hated with almost every fiber of his being.

Landing on a parapet encasing a balcony, avoiding the wickedly-pointed spears every couple of feet, and climbing down, he walked into his room, down the stairs and into the throne-room of his father.

His father looked much the same as him, with pale skin and a goatee, but with straight hair kept short, and nearly three times the height of a normal man. Sitting on a throne of dragon-bone and cushioned with blackened fabric, he walked forward, between tables where demons and fallen angels sat feasting on roasted animal carcasses, drinking wine of finest vintage.

Lucifer was angry. Iscarbiel walked slowly forward, to stand in front of his father.

His father glared at him, and began to speak in a voice, deep as the fathoms of the ocean and booming like thunder. “My son… you are weak.”

The assembled court laughed at this, as they continued their feast. Slamming the butt of his pitchfork, the symbol of his rule, into the ground, Lucifer bellowed, “Silence!”

“You have not tasted blood. You are not a torturer, like Jimarciel, or a general of great renown like Falzlynnel. You are not a magus, like Arunic, or a soldier, like Varysin. You are… weak.”

Loathing dripped from every word he spoke.

“But there is hope for you yet, my whelp, for our guards have caught something that you can… play with.”

Iscarbiel would sweat, if his body could, and fear crept into him like a poisoned dagger. What would his father have him do?

“An angel, sent by my father, to spy on me. Caught by Jimarciel, and brought alive to our dungeons. You will torture it until it swears allegiance to me, and then slaughter it. This is my command; carry it out and your rewards will be great. But be warned,” he almost whispered, in a sibilant hiss, ‘If you fail me, your screams will be far louder and greater than any that now resound across my plane.”

Iscarbiel kneeled, silently, trying to think of a way out of this. None was forthcoming, unfortunately.

“Lonchoriel! Show him to his prey.”

A fallen angel, dressed in fine, purple robes, stood, bowed before Lucifer, and spoke, “Thank you, my lord.”

Lonchoriel lead Iscarbiel down a spiral staircase to the left of the throne room, not speaking as he walked down, down into the depths, beyond the castle and into the bowels of the mountain. Finally, they entered the dungeons, darkened cells where his father’s prisoners were kept. Down the hallway to the very end, where a large door was chained shut. Whispering the password to the door, a word in a language only pronounceable by demons and the damned,  he turned and walked back down the hallway, speaking a simple warning. “Do not fail your father.”

With Lonchoriel gone, Iscarbiel gulped, and walked into the room, not knowing what to expect. He had never left his father’s realm – he had never waged war on the heavens, and he had never seen an angel. From the words of Jimarciel he expected an alien, monstrous entity – something of fire and death, whose hatred of the hells knew no bounds. Something awful, no doubt.

But walking into the torture chamber, he saw something he had never expected to see.

She seemed so… normal. Inhumanly beautiful, with amber hair – but still, alike to his mother and to him. Human in appearance, but with the feathered wings of a pure-white dove, folded behind her. Chained to the ceiling, kneeling on the ground but with her hands suspended above her head, she appeared barely conscious, with superficial bruises and cuts probably incurred in her capture. Upon his entrance, she looked up, and he saw her eyes – humanlike, but with orange irises that matched the shade of her hair. She spat on the ground – blood, red like a human’s, mixed in with the saliva. “Do your worst, demon,” she hissed.

Iscarbiel was dumbstruck. Moving to stand before her, he began to try and sound intimidating, “Fear me, angel, for I am the son of Lucifer – the Morningstar, the Blue Flame, the Lord of Hell – fear me because I am here to –,” he stopped, slapping his forehead. “Oh, enough talk.”

He pulled a tray of torture implements towards him. He was pretty sure how most of them worked – or, at least some of them. Picking up a scalpel, he moved towards her, and she glared at him, looking him in the eyes, unflinching as he moved the scalpel towards the flesh below her right eye. Just as it was about to touch skin, he stopped, stood up, put it down, hyperventilating. “Nine hells damn it all,” he exclaimed.

“You aren’t very good at this,” she observed, watching him closely.

“No, no I am not,” he concurred, staring down at the tray and shaking his head. “I’m Iscarbiel.”

“Anabiel.”

“Charmed, I’m sure.”

They stood there in silence for a couple moments, neither speaking, wondering what they should do. He couldn’t bring himself to torture her, and she knew it. His father was right. He was… weak.

“So, Iscarbiel, what do we do now?”

“I don’t know, Anabiel, what do we do?”

“You could let me go,” she said, cheekily.

“You have absolutely no idea how impossible that would be,” he sighed. “My father doesn’t trust me to do this, and I’m damned sure he’ll check in before the night is done.”

“Have you ever tortured someone before?” she inquired.

“Nope. Never before in my life have I done something like this. I mostly hung around his courts, listening to my older brothers’ tales of glory, how they torture the damned and kill angels – no offense.”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t offended just a little bit.”

“Well, in either case – I never had the stomach for this sort of thing. I’m a fan of decadence, I take to the wine a little more than most, but I’m not a torturer. Any recommendations?”

“Well, torture doesn’t normally come with this much banter.”

“I figured as much,” he said, sitting down in front of her, pushing the wheeled cart aside.

“What will I do,” he pondered, half to himself. “I can’t torture anything, never have, probably never will. But if I don’t my father will torture me.”

“He’d torture his own flesh and blood?”

Iscarbiel laughed, and pulled down the front of his tunic a little to reveal a score of scars, aged and healed whip-scars. “it wouldn’t be the first time.”

Anabiel went quiet. “I’m sorry about your father,” she paused, as if shocked that she had said something like that. “I didn’t think I’d ever say that to a demon,” she explained.

“Well, I’ve never met an angel in my existence, so I think we’re both in rather uncharted territory.”

“Shouldn’t we loathe each other with every fiber of our existences?”

“Probably,” he said, “But I’ve never been particularly demonic or malicious, even for a demon. Especially for a demon,” he paused, then the questions came pouring out, “Why did you come to Hell? If I left, I’d never come back. Ever. Why risk it?”

She bristled, and then began to speak, “I can’t tell you that. Is this your endgame? Pretend to be incompetent and then hope that gets me to spill all the answers? I have to admit, that’s clever.”

“No, nothing like that! Honest!”

She spat on the ground again. “A likely story. Get out of here!”

He got up, a little in shock, and walked out of the room. Outside, he found someone waiting for him. Jimarciel was standing there, a disgusted look on his face. “I knew you couldn’t do it. Father’s right, you’re weak.”

He pushed Iscarbiel aside, and with a wave of his hand, disguised himself perfectly as Iscarbiel. “Leave,” he said. “I’m going to make her talk, and you’ll get the credit for it. I hate your weakness,” he growled, “But you are my blood, for better or for worse.”

As Jimarciel turned to the door, Iscarbiel grabbed his shoulder. “Don’t do it, Jii.”

Jimarciel turned back, and pushed Iscarbiel across the hall, to the base of the stairs. “And what will you do to stop me, whelp? You are a weakling. You can’t even torture a human soul – how could father have trusted you to torture an angel?”

Iscarbiel got up, shakily. And walked forward. “Back away, Jimarciel. I’m warning you.”

Jimarciel laughed and drew his longsword, blackened, infernal steel hissing with the evil with which it had been tempered. “Warning me, now, are you? Run away, you little fool, before I destroy you.”

Iscarbiel took a stumbling step forward, unarmed. Jimarciel laughed and took a stance, with his blade in position so it would be ready to strike. The air smelled of ozone as the blade crackled. “Don’t hurt her,” said Iscarbiel, shakily but resolute.

“Don’t hurt her,” mocked Jimarciel. “She’s an angel. She’s our enemy. Given the power, she would destroy us all. Don’t you care for your flesh and blood? Turn and flee, cur. It’s what you’re good at.”

A million memories flooded Iscarbiel’s mind. Of being bullied by his brothers, of Jimarciel and Falzlynnel laughing at him, beating him into a pulp and him being afraid to speak back. “Not anymore.”

Iscarbiel charged. He did not know what he had planned, but Jimarciel was ready. Driving the blade towards Iscarbiel, he expected an easy kill. But Iscarbiel was not so obliging. Diving into a roll, he went beside the blade, punching Jimarciel in the throat with all of his meager might.

Jimarciel gagged, a hiss, as his blade cleaved into the floor. Running into the cell, Iscarbiel grabbed a blade from the rolling cart of torture equipment. He looked at it, a simple enough dagger, and he readied himself to fight. Jimarciel growled, ripping his blade from the ground and turning to Iscarbiel.

“What will you do now, little one,” he hissed, “What will you do now that you’ve cornered yourself? I will take no mercy on you now.”

“I expected as much,” muttered Iscarbiel, readying himself to die.

Jimarciel laughed and charged forward, bloodlust making him foolish. This time he made sure to be ready for a quick dodge, but this time Iscarbiel was not going to dodge. Throwing himself onto the blade, he drove his dagger into Jimarciel’s heart. “What...?”

Jimarciel let go of his sword, looking down at the blade that had pierced his chest. The blade was of hell-forged steel, like his own. Pulling it out, he watched blackened ichor pour from the wound. Kneeling, then falling over, he moved no more.

Walking over to his brother’s corpse, with the longsword stuck through the right side of his stomach, ichor leaking from his pierced side. Groaning, he groped around on his brother’s corpse, finally finding it. His master key. Walking over to the angel, he unlocked her shackles. “Go,” he said, falling over and leaning on the ground, pain overwhelming, “Run. You can escape.”

Anabiel knelt next to him, lifting his head. “Go!” he hissed, barely able to breathe.

She put her hand to the base of the wound, then, reaching up, pulled it free from his stomach. He screamed, but she covered his mouth. Putting an ichor-soaked finger to her mouth, indicating silence, she put a hand on the wound, whispered a word in Enochian, and it stitched itself shut. “Come with me,” she whispered.

Catching his breath, he nodded.

They made their way up the stairs as quietly as possible, and he whispered to her, “At the top of this staircase is my father’s throne room. If I distract them, you can escape out the balcony at the back of the room. You can still fly, can’t you?”

She nodded. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll guard your escape and follow if I can.”

She looked worried.

“Don’t concern yourself with me,” he whispered. “I’m demonspawn, remember? I’m not capable of redemption.”

They reached the top of the stairs, and Iscarbiel ran into the center of the room, quite a sight, covered in black ichor as he was, both his own and his brother’s.

“Father!” he screamed. Lucifer rose from his throne, holding his pitchfork resolutely. “I’m tired, father. I’m tired of my brothers. I’m tired of this court. I’m tired of you.”

“Watch your tongue, boy! I have fought gods! Destroyed nations! What have you done, apart from embarrass my bloodline?”

Iscarbiel saw Anabiel sneak out the back, and he laughed back at his father. “Embarrass your bloodline? Don’t make me laugh! You were defeated, what have your fights wrought you but this wretched place?”

Lucifer howled, his appearance shifting as he took a more suitable size, similar to his son’s. His skin was black as coal and his face a triple, with one on each side save the back. The eyes of each face glowed crimson, and his wings burnt black and skeletal. “Know your place, boy!”

Iscarbiel drew his blade into a ready stance, ready to fight. Lucifer charged, his attack pattern more sophisticated than Jimarciel’s. Within seconds, he had gripped Iscarbiel by the throat, lifting him into the air. “What has the angel brought out of you, boy? What hidden nature is this?”

Iscarbiel saw Anabiel, wings spread, flying off of the balcony and away, further and further, into the distance.

“Love, father.” Iscarbiel choked out.

“Love,” sneered Lucifer.

Dropping the boy, he struck forward with the pitchfork, driving it through Iscarbiel’s chest.

“Love will not save you, boy.”

Iscarbiel lay back onto the floor as ichor drained from his body, and he blacked out, and saw no more.

 ---Epilogue---

Iscarbiel awoke in a white, formless landscape. Standing across from him was a muscled angel, who seemed normal enough, save for the third eye in the center of his forehead. Getting quickly to his feet, he stood in a defensive stance.

“Fear not, worm. I am not here to harm you. I’m here to save you, per my sister’s request.”

“Who?” Iscarbiel began.

“Don’t be rude, Metatron,” spoke a familiar voice behind him. Turning, he saw Anabiel.

“Anabiel! How-,” Iscarbiel stopped himself before he said it. How was he not dead?

“I petitioned my father for your return. He sent Metatron to draw you out of the void. I accompanied.”

“Why?”

“I saw something in you, Iscarbiel. Something no demon has shown before.”

Metatron began to speak. “I see all, boy. I was there when your father betrayed his, and his brethren like me. I see in you what was in him before he turned from the light. Bravery. Honor,” here he paused, “Love.”

“Your bravery in offering your life to save an angel was enough to make you an anomaly; expecting nothing in return made you a hero. And heroes deserve heaven’s blessings, regardless of their father’s sins.”

Anabiel gripped Iscarbiel’s hand. “Follow me,” she said, and lead him into paradise.

You’re a demon. A pretty awful one, might I add. You should have been an angel instead. The other demons constantly harass you for not fitting in or being like them. You end up falling in love with an angel and you have to convince her that you’re not like the others.

Red Spider Lily

These flowers are originally found in China, Japan, Korea, and Nepal and spread to the United States and other countries overtime. They bloom in the late summer or early autumn often in response to heavy rainfall. They’re blooming patterns and cultural significances give them other names like the Hurricane Lily or the Resurrection Lily. This flower, along with all of the members in genus Lycoris are poisonous due to the presence of the toxic alkaline Lycoris, if ingested bulbs can cause diarrhea, vomiting, convulsions, and in severe cases, even death.

This flower symbolizes the coming of fall. Red spider lilies are frequently seen in Japan, growing along roadways and along the perimeter of Rice fields and houses. The lilies are purposely planted near rice fields in order to deter mice and other animals from invading the rice patties.

In ccordance with established tradition many practitioners of Buddhism in Japan will celebrate the arrival of fall with a ceremony at the tombs of their ancestor in order to pay tribute to the dead spider lilies are commonly planted on and around grave sites as part of a ceremonial practice.

Some legends have it that if you see someone who you may never meet again, these flowers will bloom along the paths you take. Which is often used media to represent death or becoming of bad times. 

Manolo had been different since his resurrection.

Maria didn’t notice it right away. The changes were so subtle, so small that one had to look closely to know they were there at all. But something was… off.

For instance, Manolo was colder now.

Not as cold as his corpse (his corpse) had been. But his skin definitely had a cooler quality to it now. His skin tone was still tan (not pale like he’d been lying still so still on his bed) and he was still warm.

Just not as warm as he was before.

Manolo would sing for them. For she and Joaquin both. He sang of love, friendship, apology, forgiveness, and more. His voice was beautiful, his music was beautiful.

But sometimes his music was off.

The tune, starting out so melodious, would turn darker, more ominous. The notes turned sour and twisted, and Manolo seemed not to notice. Carrying on as though his song was not beginning to frighten them. He would open his eyes and see their scared faces. He would stop and ask if they were alright. And Maria and Joaquin would share a look. They would not tell him.

Sometimes Joaquin could swear Manolo’s eyes glowed. If it was really dark or Manolo was displeased he would see a flash of yellow.

At first he told himself he was imagining it. His relief at having his best friend back (alive) was so great he was seeing things.

But then he kept seeing it.

An eerie yellow glow emitting from Manolo’s eyes for a brief second. The warm brown completely enveloped by the unearthly light. Maria saw it too, he knew she did. And that wasn’t all.

Sometimes during a storm, lightning would flash and for a brief instance the warm, alive musician was replaced with the skeleton. When walking down the street with his two friends he would see someone look at Manolo and do a double take, looking terrified. So it wasn’t just him.

He supposed he shouldn’t be so surprised. Manolo had been dead (no matter how Joaquin had pleaded with him to wake up wake up please I’m sorry). There had to have been some side effects, some lingering results of death.

Manolo used to love animals. He would pet every dog, cat, chicken, every creature that crossed his path. But he was beginning to rethink his opinions.

Animals hated him now. They refused to come near him and growled and hissed whenever he came close. Chuy would skirt around him, try to tug Maria away from him. Even the bulls in their pens would snort and back away.

After his got his life back, his two amigos would not let him out of their sight (we’re not losing you ever again). But they’d sometimes recoil slightly at his touch. Or refuse to look him in the eyes. The people of San Angel would often look warily at him. Some would turn to smile at him but start in terror, before peering closer at him, confused. He wondered what they saw.

He would sometimes catch Maria and Joaquin looking at him with strange, unreadable expressions on their faces. A hint of apprehension or outright fear.

“What’s wrong?” He would ask them.

“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost”

Unus Annus. Memento Mori. You will be missed.

Seven Wonders (Henry Creel x Reader)

(Summary: In where you have more powers than anyone else in the lab, and Brenner puts you to the ultimate test, while also being in a secret relationship with Henry/001..)

Masterlist Request Info

Word Count: 1.6k

(A/n: A lot of you said yes then excepted to my poll so you wish is my command! And yes this is based off of Seven wonders in coven😂)

~~~~

Brenner couldn't understand it. He had tried everything! Everything to contain your powers the chip that he had given Henry, multiple chips, he even tried to make you brain dead, NONE OF IT WORKED! That was until one of his coworkers came up to him with a possible solution.

"Come in!" Brenner shouted hearing a knock on his office door.

"Sir, I may know how to help with 000." Calvin one of his orderlies said as he stepped inside. Brenner sat back in his chair looking at him.

"Go on.."

"Well, the other workers and I have been doing a lot of research as well as thinking. Sir, Her Powers go all the way back to the Salem Witch Trials.."

"They say that in each Coven there is a particular witch with these powers.. they are called the Supreme Witch, the way to find out is running this test called the Seven Wonders." Calvin said while sliding papers to Brenner.

At first, Dr. Brenner thought it was a joke, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense so he did his own research and decide, that September. 30 which was tomorrow you and only you. Would be doing the Seven Wonders.

"Alright, Y/n the first thing you are going to do is... Telekinesis.." Brenner said, as he put a candle stick on the table across the room from you. "I want you to move this candle stick to you."

You nodded and with ease, taking Barley any energy from you the candle stick swiftly lifted off the table and into your hands. Some people in the room were shocked on how easy it was for you seeing no energy be taken away.

"Okay, next.. Concilium,.. also referred to as mind control or coercion. I want you to make Dean do something.."

Once again with ease you made Dean slap himself hard. You never really liked him, he was always a complete and udder ass to you. Some people laughed before composing themselves quick and writing down your progress. You decided to make it more fun and make Connor slap Dean, then to make them start fighting.. Brenner glared at you, while Henry/Peter watched intrigued as well as fascinated.. you had spooked his interest even more than before.

"That's enough y/n!" Brenner spoke. You heard Dean make a comment and decided to make him slap himself one last time.

"Hm.. this is fun.." you breathed out a laugh.

"Next, is something not a lot of you have seen before.. Transmutation.. also known as Teleportation." They all looked at Brenner some scoffed not believing it.

"Y/n you will teleport to my office and get me your file." Brenner finished, and without a blink, you turned around and disappeared, lights flickering.

  They were shocked, as they saw on the tracker you were in fact in Brenner's office only for a second later you were back in the blink of an eye and dropped the files at Brenner's feet with a thud. Brenner looked down in shock, not excepting that. Just like everyone else, while Henry/Peter looked more intrigued and amused.

"Right... g-Good job.. now next is.. Divination is the power to acquire knowledge about an object, person, or location without the user's physical senses. Y/n I want you to use these three items that are laid out on the table. And find who they belong too."

  You nodded, while going over to the table and hovering your hands over the objects. Taking a deep breath and closing your eyes locating through them to see who they belong too.

"The items belong to the nurse Lydia." You told them as you opened your eyes and moved away your hands.

"That's correct, excellent y/n." Brenner said, while him and some other orderlies set up the next test/experiment.

"This one also another that no one in here has seen.. not even myself.. Pyrokinesis the power to create, control, and manipulate fire with the mind.. what I want you to do Y/n is to light all these candles all at once.." Brenner said.

  Some of the orderlies strayed back getting ready to bolt just in case. You took a deep breath feeling yourself get a bit more exhausted and flexed your hands while lighting all the candles at once not missing one. The orderlies relaxed thankful that nothing had gone wrong.. the only ones who knew you could do it was Lucas and Henry/Peter.

  Brenner. He was starting to get nervous. You were almost completely done with the Seven Wonders, he was amazed and proud. Yes, but he didn't know what would happen or what that ment and he didn't like that.. he didn't like how he couldn't control you like he could with Henry and you doing this test. Is going to determine whether or not you are what they call a supreme..

"Right... next is.. Vitalum Vitalis... It includes balancing the scales between life and death. Witches can drain their life force in order to restore health, heal injuries, or even resurrect a dead person.." Brenner said.

"Y/n, you will need to bring back 005. He had an accident and didn't make it.. I want you to resurrect him.."Brenner said, as two orderlies brought in 005s corpse.

  You were in shock not sure if you could do it.. I mean yeah sure you brought back insects and animals... but never a person. Henry/Peter gave a concerned look towards you knowing that this would drain or could possibly kill you. You caught a glimpse of it and mouthed 'I'll be okay. I promise..' he did not by it. You took a deep shaky breath before walking towards the table.

  Closing your eyes putting your hands up so that they were hovering over the body. Before, inhaling deeply leaning towards the corpse and exhaling all of your breath. You could feel this take a good amount of your energy. Then taking a step back, tiredly as Henry grabbed you so you wouldn't fall. Then, 005 shot up gasping for air and breathing heavily. Everyone  stared at in amazement you had actually done it.. you brought him back.

"Dean. Lucas. Take 005 to the infirmary make sure he's okay." Brenner ordered. They got to work helping 005 up and taking him to the infirmary.

"We will give you a break... before we do the final.. part of the test.." with that everyone left except Henry.

"How do you feel?" Henry asked, while giving you some water.

"Tired. Just can't wait to be done with this.. I don't even know what will exactly happen after this.." you spoke after taking a few big sips of the water.

"..I don't think Brenner knows either.. that's why he's scared.. he can't control you.." Henry said almost a bit jealous but worried.

"Just promise me not to over do it.. and come back to me.." "I promise.. I won't over do it.. and I will come back to you.." You promised as he pulled you closer giving you a quick kiss before moving away when the others come back in.

  That's how your relationship worked, the little moments like that.. or the big moments..  but they rarely happened. You could never read him.. but you could tell he worried and cared about you.. or... at least you hoped he did..

"Now, y/n this part of the test is the most dangerous ones you will need to use a lot of your energy for this.. the next part of the test is... Descensum.. the power to project one's soul to the afterlife and the use of astral projection.. you will need to lay down for this last part and say Descensum when you are ready.." Brenner explained.

   You took a deep breath and nodded as Henry and Lenny helped you lay down. Taking another long deep breath before saying "Descensum..." with that you were gone and into the project.

  When you opened your eyes, all you saw was red it looked like the real world but back wards with red vines everywhere... and creatures with a face of a flower.. then you got a glimpse of another creature it was tall looked like it used to be... human...

"She's been under for awhile.."

"What happens if she doesn't come back?"

  We're all the orderlies we're talking about.. Henry knew you could make it back and tried his damnest not to listen to them. He was lured out of his thoughts when the lights started to flicker a lot, he saw you moving the suddenly you raised up gasping for air when everything just stopped.

  Henry/Peter sighed in relief, knowing he was right that you were okay. He was still worried about Brenner's plan for you and knew that he had to start his plan to escape with you soon..

  Once again everyone was shocked, especially Brenner. You had just completed the Seven Wonders the one thing that was almost deemed impossible to survive through.. but here you are still alive. It was true you are the Supreme Witch. Yes, Brenner was hoping that this test would kill you so he wouldn't have to worry about you anymore.. but that didn't work..

  Before,  you could catch your breath or relise your surroundings again Brenner had a few guards take you away forcefully. Only seeing Henry's face for a split second before passing out.

This 12,400-year-old puppy may be brought back to life using cloning

Well-preserved remains of a 12,400-year-old puppy from the extinct Pleistocene canid species have been discovered near the Tumat village in the Sakha Republic of Russia. Scientists believe the puppy was an ancient pet — one of man’s first best friends. How they plan to bring the animal back to life.

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A personal anthem of mine

Everything feels the same, now. 

That is to say, 

Everything feels like coming to life. 

That is to say, everything

Feels like dying anew. 

.

—resurrection (y.c.)