Legends and Jinns: The Blessed Journey

By A. B. The Wise

About the Book
Legends & Jinns: The Blessed Journey is an extraordinary story that balances the classic confrontation of good and evil throughout every page! It has been over a thousand years since the death of the universe, and with a new species developing in its wake, The Legends unremittingly fight to restore peace back to the earth while The Jinns unceasingly continue to cause chaos and confusion! L & J is an action-thriller drama that takes you on a journey of love, heartbreak, and hope. It will engage you from start to finish.

About the Author
A.B. The Wise was born in Chicago, Illinois. He currently resides in Las Vegas, Nevada. He has three siblings and a passion for spending time with his family and friends.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dorrance Publishing Company
• Release date: Aug 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798887295039

Book preview

Dedications and acknowldgements

First & foremost, All Worship, All Glory & All praise are due to The Most High, The Lord, The Creator, The Cherisher, and The Sustainer of All the worlds! It is my supplication that YOU & YOUR POWER use this literary work as a vessel to inspire the lost, change the mindset of a tyrant, inspire charitable works, enjoin the right & forbid the wrong, encourage a good word directed to the right, restore a smile, advocate justice, etc.…, for truly, my life, my death, and my service of sacrifice are all for You! May your peace & blessings continue to be bestowed upon your loyal and dedicated servants, Angels, Massagers, and Prophets as well!

To the two beings (in life & death) that I look forward to seeing most again, my grandmother & grandfather Mr. & Mrs. Armstrong (aka) Nettie & Wes. Your sacrifices, deep love and undying support has meant more to me than even my own breath at times! Y’all didn’t only raise me, y’all actually saved me! I will forever be grateful! So with the will of an Ant and the heart of a Lion, I will search through every soul in the hereafter to discover those smiles again!

To my beautiful grandmother Mary Rose…, your warmth and love throughout my adolescent years taught me what compassion was all about! There may be two sides to a family, (maternal & paternal), but your love was never divided! You’ll always be my favorite baker! Have that lemon cake ready for me the moment I enter those gates!

The warmest embrace to my mom & dad, (Mr. Carl Anthony McCall & Cheryl Ann Brown). Y’all possess the most generous & warmest heartbeats I’ve ever felt, and you couldn’t have handed down a greater gift as parents. Thank you! Having you still around in my adulthood (in my opinion) has truly been The Most Merciful’s most endearing gift to me! It’s amazing to know that He personally gift-wrapped and hand-delivered me into your lives, and I could only hope to be a good son to you, evolving our love, and safeguarding our soul-binding connections until Our Most Gracious Lord reunites us in perfect bliss on the other side. I love you eternally.

A special highlight of Love to my aunt Ms. Rochelle McCall! Ro-motivates-all isn’t just a memorable quote or a nice mantra, but I can honestly say it’s been your lifestyle! This dark world has a way of consuming us at times, and as my beacon I wanted to take this opportunity to sincerely thank you for your guidance & instruction, as well as your Luv & support (especially) throughout my adolescent years. Your hands-on approach has sincerely been an illuminating highlight within my life!

To proceed…, I’d me remiss not to extend a pulse of endearing affection to my great aunts & uncles who molded me, holded me, and never folded me LOL!

To all my Solidarity Brothers through blood and oath…, my adoration for you is deeper than any one flaw, fault, mistake, mishap, disagreement or disappointment!

Know that, I am you, and you are me! When I verbally express that I luv you, take emotional note that it carries with it the weight of the entire world. Remaining solid and truly united, we will sustain our unbreakable bonds in this lifetime and beyond!

Death won’t even due us apart! Special acknowledgements to Artavius (Dale) Brown, Jeremy (JB) Brown & Charles (Tony) Brown…, My cradle brothers!

To my Kith & Kin…, we all know exactly what it’s like to possess family who turn into relatives, and after a while those relatives turn into strangers! Especially after years & years of no communication. However, I couldn’t imagine not mentioning those of you who struggled through some of the rough times with me. So as a heartfelt gesture, I sincerely wanted to honor my love and appreciation for my family-tree on both my paternal & maternal sides regardless of any personal bonding.

The McCall’s, Armstrong’s, Sampson’s, Sturghill’s, Youngs & Brown’s. Respectfully, keeping the trunk of my family-tree firm, there are so many more robust branches deeply fixated within the root that I unfortunately didn’t possess the space to mention. Please forgive me if I left someone out. However, the love of my family is the strongest love that I know outside of The Most High’s! It’s truly eternal! So may our bonds transcend this life leading us into the next.

To all my beautiful nieces & handsome nephews…, I could only hope that this one, single accomplishment from your uncle galvanizes something without you that urges you to become goal-oriented, driven to succeed, and responsibly strategic within your decision-making! If there is one thing that I pray you all take from me in this life, its to never discount or devalue your small successes! When you achieve a single thing, regardless of how trivial or miniscule you think it is, know that it’s going to strengthen your confidence in dealing with Oh no…, not again obstacles, unfortunate circumstances, and adverse challenges yet to come! So always remember…, you can water the seeds of great victory by understanding that it was the minor triumphs you’ve mastered & attained domain over that has prepared you for it. Love Y’all!

To all my other members …, whether family members, friends, ex-lovers, distant relatives, my past school teachers, etc.…regardless of the roles we’ve played in one another’s lives, if at any point throughout my 40-plus year tenor you’ve extended me an ounce of love, an atoms-weight of support, a smile, an encouraging word of advice, some critical guidance, offered me directions, helped me to spell a four letter word, admonished me to be better, forgiven me, called me out on my shortcomings, given me a penny towards my dreams, etc…, I without doubt owe a great deal of any success I may attain, to YOU!"

I sincerely understand the theory & value of being raised by a village! Everyone may not have made the exact same contribution to my life or development, but I believe that every persons role (whether minor or major) was certainly a necessity in my cultivation and maturation as a human-being! So with nothing but wholehearted gratitude, I sincerely thank you to my personal village or Smurfs! We will stop and conquer Gargamel’s plots if it’s the last thing we do! Lol.

To my brothers & sisters stored behind barbed-wire gates & cemented walls…, regardless of innocence or guilt, know that your pains, your struggles aren’t falling upon deaf ears! I come from where you come from! I’ve bled the same blood, shed some of the same tears! I just want to say that Solitude, if used right, could build empires! Please use your time wisely, constructively! Truthfully speaking, a lot of us grew up experiencing and suffering through traumas, etc., which in-turn desensitized us and converted our hearts into callous brick. So I would foremost like to encourage us to consciously mold into shape our hearts first! Discover serenity within the spirituality, some real deep soul-searching type of work! If we do that, our minds, our tongues, and our actions will certainly follow! Prepare, and don’t hesitate to apply what you’ve accumulated through knowledge upon receiving your next opportunity! It’s the only way we can win! I love you, and if I can do it, you can as well!

Lastly, to those I’ve lost along the way! I could never and would never argue or disdain The Most High’s Decree’s Ever!

Therefore, from Him we come, and unto Him we must return! In commemoration of my passed-away Loved-Ones I want to honor them by seeing to it that their legacies will still live-on through me, my good works, my charitable acts presented in their names, and in good wealth of the love we shared! May Our Most Merciful Lord safeguard their souls! Rest in Paradise!

*Nettie Mrs. Que Armstrong

*Western Armstrong

*Andre Trey MCall

*Tommy McCall

*Adra Sampson

*Uncle Gabby Sampson

*Uncle Dudda Johnny Sampson

*Mary Rose Brown

*Gwendolyn E. Brown

*JoMichael R. Clemons

*Daron Pudge Hunter

* Lil Marce Davis Jr.

*Jeremy BaggMan Brown

The earth had been reduced to ruin, and the great apocalyptic cataclysm in which evil forces were destroyed was only beginning to rear its ugly face. It had become known throughout history as Al-Mout Àla Alim: The Death of The Universe!

-Narrator

Prologue

Suspended hundreds of miles within the lower ionosphere of the open outer-space night, an orbiting satellite known to a crestfallen NASA as Super-Quill sat as a dormant watch-guard while Mother Earth outwardly appeared to have been decelerating on her twenty-three point five degree axis. As she slowed in meticulous rotation within her conventional cycle around the sun, closer inspection would reveal a visual anguish that even the blind eye couldn’t ignore.

The year was 3075, and for the past ten centuries she had suffered a fate that only mankind shall forever be deemed responsible. With the enormity and immoral motives of global governments being the primary cause of the innumerable world wars that’s consequently plagued the planet throughout the past one thousand years, life as mankind had once been known has been nonexistent.

Looking to be a round and withering cracking rock, the globe was unfortunately dying an assiduously slow death. It was as if God Himself had fallen into despair over her. The usual replenishments within the profuse seven seas were now ill-refined, dried-up, and sadly constituting a mere five percent of what they once were. Due to the earth being scarce of vegetation, live-stock, pure drinking water and order, the term Armageddon had taken on an entirely new-found meaning.

Taking a quick glimpse into the past and leading up to the present, it wouldn’t be such a far-fetched guess to think that with so much power being assembled and with so much bloodshed being spilled throughout history, that the tension between sovereign nations could ever simply remain verbal. History was known to repeat itself, and logical thinking would suggest that escalation was inevitable and that it would only be a matter of time before all hell broke loose. Whoever had predicted such a calamitous future was right.

It had all began with World War I, and throughout the ages world powers such as the UK, France, China, India, Pakistan, Russia, North Korea, South Africa, Iran, and The United States of America had all been vying for conquest by accumulating autocratic arsenals with their nuclear programs. Because of it, during the past one thousand calendars nuclear warheads had become as common as hand-pistols, and mostly every insignificant monarch on the planet had eventually cultivated into independent superpowers. Simmering in hate and craving for control, their domineering directives had inspired them to foolishly go rogue and cause them to engage in abominable acts that practically guaranteed the incitement of world conflict.

It wasn’t until the tumultuous year of 2075 that life had become mortally catastrophic. It’s when western, southern, northern and middle-eastern law-sons along with their despotic alliances began to politically clash being sure to bear non-diplomatic strong-arm tactics. Divulging in chemical and biological warfare, administering bacterium plagues, and setting off atomic nukes were nothing but failed ploys in their diabolical attempts at trying to conquer and regulate the opposing governments around the world.

With unsuccessful belligerency taking place, the wars had eventually gotten out of hand. Spite seemed to have inspired irrational decisions, the rules of engagement had no longer mattered, and national pride had caused nations to collapse quicker than unstable Lego-pieces. No one was free of guilt, and although no one government wanted to accept responsibility, every superpower could’ve found themselves blameworthy and complicit in the worldwide meltdown. Neutral countries within the United Nations tried to intervene but being truly united was only a prevarication.

After contentious assemblies, talks had been suspended and peace had been effortlessly vacated. In hind sight, it had perceptibly been an irresponsible choice, that in the long run would come back to haunt them and cause the detriment of all parties involved, foreign and domestic. Known as The Day of Noise, on October 6th, 2075, every governing nation with access to coded nuclear weaponry began activating their grudges and firing off nukes in all directions. It all happened so fast, and the chain reaction of retaliatory bombings seemed to have happened even faster.

With maritime militias being prime suspects in the battle that drained the seven seas, Naval Forces around the globe had built thousands of state of the art combatant vessel-fleets such as submarines, aircraft carriers, fighter-jets, ballistic nuclear missile-subs, amphibious assault ships, massive coastguard cutters, and polar icebreakers in preparation to fight a war that neither nation wanted to accept accountability for. Nuclear-powered fleets and cruise missile-launchers with significant range and endurance advantages had sat at every bordered shoreline within the vast seas as coastal and patrolling safe-guards.

The thing was, with just over two trillion tons of titanium warship-steel, along with the sophisticated weaponry of anti-defense missiles and cerebral satellite systems that pin-pointed and targeted opposition ships, essentially avoiding clashes with world bullies who were thirsty for trouble was practically impossible. On The Day of Noise the war had officially been declared, and without reservation sea-side missile-destroyers played a real life game of battleship covering every cosmic inch of the deep. With so many instantaneous attacks coming from every direction, sustaining an impenetrable fortress was simply unachievable.

The assaults had caused the Prevent Defense-Systems that were set in place to out-wit and counter such incidents to fail miserably in its attempts at trying to save its citizens from instant death. The conjecture of global annihilation was no longer an unlikely theory, for it was occurring. With the earth being outwardly destroyed, the flares of the nukes had inadvertently overloaded the grid’s power-systems ultimately frying every cybernetic hard-drive with its Electric-Magnetic-Pulse, which in due course had shut-down and eradicated all the vast-networks within the globe’s entire tele-communications infrastructure. Cellular-phones, radios, televisions, satellites, postal systems, data lines, computers, broadcasting transmissions, electric vehicles and the like were all no longer serviceable in the new world.

Due to just about every administration adopting the pessimistic attitude of no way out, every dictator, president and rogue regime across the entire globe began discharging their nuclear warheads with spite-filled hearts and kamikaze-style missions in mind. Because of it, neither of the two hundred or so nations involved would ever have the honor of waving their victory flags. Unfortunately as a result, the rapid succession of atomic warheads imploding on land had caused the earth to be reduced to ruin, and the great apocalyptic cataclysm in which evil forces were destroyed was only beginning to rear its ugly face. It had become known throughout history as Al-Mout Àla Alim: The Death of The Universe!

It’s when desolate souls were left behind to aimlessly roam the earth being subjected to the aftermath that the war had left in its wake. Knowing that certain warheads stationed across vast waters would never reach their navigated targets, some governments decided to mastermind diabolical strategies and switch up their tactics. To truly make it stick, they even went so far as to make their main method of attacking their enemies somewhat inhumane. They began to rely on the synthetics of chemical and biological warfare to get the job done.

The nuclear warheads, flame-throwers, napalm bombs and atomic missiles containing thickened fuel-injected gasolines, thermite, and magnesium-incendiary-munitions were all merely earth destroyers that was used to murder in masses. However, it was when governments secretly decided to implement toxic chemicals and biological agents through the contamination of their enemy’s food and water supplies that certainly caught the attention of every monarch whose commonwealth was at stake. Inspired by the statistics of its fatality rates, it became a stratagem that everyone decided to embrace, one they began using with the idea of truly playing for keeps.

Merciless nations also attacked one another by creating man-made toxic agents that possessed tabun and sarin. Using those same chemical compositions, fiendish chemist and radical physicist came together and innovated the infamous anticholinesterase-compound of Villa-147. Coalescing it with the lethal nerve gas of seizium-139, as a dynamic dual they produced clouds of fine mephitic air particles that remained airborne well after nuclear explosions. That way, any lucky survivors that was able to conceal themselves in air-tight bunkers and escape the initial blast would eventually inhale its aftermath and succumb to the inevitability of its long and torturous bereavement.

The nature of such cloud attacks ended up being more deadly than the actual detonation of munitions seeing that after a while the fume-aerosols became odorless, colorless, and gave no obvious and detectable indication of its presence. Due to the fact that those volatile vapors were present in just about every blow of the wind, safety and exclusion zones were non-existent. Just about everything was radio-active and contaminated, and no one on earth was safe.

The majority of survivors who survived the initial blast were eventually killed by those same poisonous gases within a matter of months, days, hours, and in some cases even minutes. They fought symptoms ranging from extreme fatigue, nausea, vomiting, perfuse sweating, fever, loss of teeth, internal bleeding, first degree burns, shrunken organs, severe tissue damage, and at last kidney and heart failure. The potency of those irritant gases had been exclusively concentrated and dispensed without prejudice, effectively exposing the CB agents to the fragile respiratory systems of just about every surviving pedestrian remaining on the planet. The chaos that took place, only to be multiplied in panic and fear had left humans perplexed and scrambling in confusion as if they were scattered moths pursuing the brightest light. Only there was no light! For an entire month straight the sun willfully refused to rise causing a shift of dark clouds to hoover over the entire planet, subsequently ending the day and enforcing the night.

 It was total mayhem. For a time, murder, rape, vandalism, home invasions and immoral acts of violence had become so widespread that it seemingly became normal. The state of society had created a level of desperation that was not only despicable but despairing as well. With everything that was taking place, pessimism for a better future had kidnapped the minds of the people, mentally and spiritually holding them hostage. Even the most ethical amongst mankind had become discouraged, quickly abandoning their moral compasses and turning towards questionable paths that were far astray.

Largely as a whole, a vast number of societies across the globe was so distraught spiritually from all the hopelessness and downhearted depression of what the world had come to, that they consciously abandoned their devotion of The One True God and willfully accepted the pagan ways of idolatry, erroneous worship, and the acceptance of fraudulent demigods. There were even unheard of plagues and variants of modernized virus-strains being birthed by day with no cures to nurse the infant diseases by night. They included Malaria, Covid-19, The Pox, Shigellosis and Yellow-Fever just to name a few. Poor sanitation and nonexistent healthcare had made a major contribution within the cases of most deaths. There had appeared to have been no real answer for it.

Without the vital ability to produce the necessary antibodies that ultimately protected a person’s immune-system from foreign attacks, fighting against and surviving the poisonous invaders of Villa-147 after so little as a miniscule milligram had infiltrated their systems was indeed an unlikely task. Because of the ingenuity of its ingrained codes, upon the infection entering the bloodstream, alpha positrons and beta deuterons began turning against each other successively encouraging bodies to fall one after another in death as if the human lifeline had been directly linked to the unstable chain of the domino-effect. However, in a divine twist of fate, not every civilian inherited the demise of such an unfortunate destiny.

Seeming to be immunologically indifferent towards the affliction of the scourging air pandemic, there were a special few amongst humanity who possessed an internal respiratory antigen that was equipped with unique immune-efficient molecules. Providing their bodies with a fighting chance, those molecules were power-driven by the hemoglobin that could be found hiding within their red blood cells. For some peculiar reason, their immune-response had biologically produced powerful and exclusive antibodies that aggressively countered and subdued the killer air-pathogens, essentially rendering them harmless. What surviving doctors, radiobiologist, anthropologist and different scientist around the world could not predict or adequately diagnose was just how incomprehensively complex the air virus would actually become. They couldn’t have possibly known what they were up against.

Sequentially, with the Villa-147 bug officially ending the civil war which caused The Death of The Universe, about eighty-five percent of earth’s remaining population had suffered from the same fatal symptoms and irredeemable ailments as everyone else before it led them to their deaths. However, it was in many special cases, merely those that included less than one percent of the leftover inhabitants that the B-cells throughout their bodies actually counter-reacted and induced the organs of their hearts and brains to expand.

Within the advancement of the process, the peoples red blood cells ignited, and due to the biological organisms fighting off the toxic agents that haunted their bloodstreams, it released amino acids that set off an intricate yet inconceivable neurological reaction. That in-turn had allowed a variation of supernatural acid components called Eugenic-Nuclei to infiltrate there systems and breed in multiplicity. The effects were irreversible. Miraculously, those acids galvanized an unyielding power-source throughout the double-stranded molecules of their DNA threads, ultimately generating the emergence of supreme gifts, dynamic strengths, enhanced energy levels, and spirited traits.

In simpler terms, their bodies had begun to progressively utilize the plutonium, uranium, sezium-139 and Villa-147 poisons, veritably converting the genetic origins of their X-Y chromosomes into mutant-like ASB-4 proteins. It changed the dynamics of their true nature, subsequently accommodating them with supernatural powers and a plethora of prolific and inhumane capabilities. Traceable to the direct aftermath of Al-Mout Àla Alim: The Death of The Universe, these subjects had unknowingly become the majestic breed of a new species…, a species that would become known as either a gift to mankind or a curse to mankind…, a species that for the remainder of time will be known as:

LEGENDS & JINNS

In death’s partition between the life of this world and the A’kirah is where the unimaginable happened, and she knew that her survival in such an evil place was practically impossible. Many Legends and Jinns of old had been condemned to the Barzark going back the past six centuries and have never made it back out to tell their stories.

 - Narrator

Chapter One

With a brutal hail-storm assaulting the frigid fall night, through the murkiness of the condensed clouds the optical illusion of illuminated lightning could be seen and the obnoxious sound of repetitious thunderclaps could be heard. The totality of Africa’s geographical scales had been severely altered since the days following The Death of The Universe over a thousand years ago, and here within the ancient and damaged soil of Alexandria Egypt was no different. The side-effects of global-warming, the aftermath of The Great War, along with centuries of neglect and abuse had consequently shifted the earth’s equilibrium, and nothing on the planet was ever the same.

Standing just below twenty thousand feet above the Mediterranean Sea atop a rocky, high, and steep alp known as Skyon Mountain sat a dreary castle built out of what appeared to be dark shaded antediluvian eighteenth century brick. Although colossal in size, standing up to five stories and sitting on a little over thirty-thousand square feet of space, the gloominess of its prehistoric reality was worn within the frame of its decaying structure. Poison-ivy vines and weed plants rooted in unproductive soil was firmly fixed and creeping up the outer exterior of the castle as if they were branching vein-vessels protruding from the arms of the world’s most strongest man.

The vermin that roamed the grounds were continuously introduced to the black mold that penetrated its brim edges. This eerie domicile was none other than the dwelling place of Queen Netcher, an ageless twenty-one year old Russian born beauty. Standing bare-foot at six feet tall, she was pleasantly accompanied by long legs, a slender torso, and a petite frame. For those who relished good looks, she was a stunning sight to see. With the gorgeous features of smooth tanned skin, pea green eyes, heart-shaped plumped lips, long flaxen blond hair and a mesmerizing pearly white smile, her external beauty would just about have everyone who laid eyes upon her visually hoaxed and not ready to mentally entertain the far-fetched idea that she was factually just over the improbable age of one-thousand years old!

 Once-upon-a-time Netcher had also been exposed and diagnosed with the volatile toxin of the Villa-147 Plague which had been spawned from the wretched World War of 2075. Consequently it had been the exact same war and the exact same plague that had become the primary weapon exclusively responsible for the creation of the revolutionized species of the Legends and Jinns race. However, it was just after three weeks of enduring horrible hardships and suffering from the plague that she too became one of a very small percentage of people that eventually made a full recovery. It was certainly a time that would never escape her mind, and because of it, she had vowed to use the unfortunate event of the Universe’s death as a symbolical means for her to revive life into her own universe.

Sheltered beneath the umbrella chamber of her elevated throne, her majesty was apparent. Garbed in an ashen gray brocaded lamé dress with tinsel rich threads, her dashing-elegance and chic-style had gone unmatched and single-handedly isolated her from everyone else in society. Adorning both her wrist were an upward of 20-karat pink-fancy and blue-fancy VS-1 cushion-cut diamond bracelets along with a surplus amount of rose gold slinky-designed bangles that eventually subsided at her forearms.

Outside of the mother-pearl locket-chain her father had given to her when she was just a little girl, her high-jewelry neckline was supplemented with flawless interwoven sapphire stones that were set in lattices of white gold, yellow gold and stainless platinum. As a center piece, it elegantly curved the indentation of her décolletage like a gem-set of fabric which was fastened by a 40-karat oval-cut imperial topaz button that was stationed at its lower center. Accentuating the royal garments she wore; the remainder of her jewels included her crushed diamond raindrop earrings and the 50-karat gold and diamond-encrusted crown that delicately sat atop her head. All of her pieces were sophisticated designs and had been well refined, ultimately possessing the gleam of a natural sparkle even in the moon-lit night.

Overlooking her kingdom, the Queen peered down onto the brickyard located on the back hind of Mount-Skyon where just over five thousand shirtless soldiers with long and keen spears stood at attention. The soldiers as a whole were vicious predators who were disreputably classified as Às-Habul Mawta: The Companions of Death. Unnaturally malnourished and sickly anorexic, the design of their vertebrate skeletons could be seen through the abnormally frail and slimy flesh that each soldier within the army possessed.

The outer layer of their skin was equivalent to thin and soft wet tissue, looking as though they were rotting catfish who washed ashore and had been out of water for far too long. Just beneath their eyes and tracing the bridges of their noses were slender and reedy shark gills that were primarily developed to smell and hunt their prey. Due to the carnal features they once previously possessed as humans, each monster had in due course inherited unique physical characteristics that descriptively stood-out from one another upon their mutant-like conversions. It was because of the toxic radiation gases that was indefinitely haunting their immune-systems that caused their human genes to continue the mutation process long after the initial infection, subsequently evolving their appearances constantly.

The reality was that they were a concoction of victimized men and women who had never physically and psychologically recovered from the feverish symptoms of the Villa-147 Plague during The Death of The Universe over a thousand years ago. Scattered throughout the earth like lost pets, The Companions of Death were essentially founded upon the visionary mastermind of the Queen. Sorting through the worse of the worse, she hand-picked them as if they were top draft picks and first class recruits, later constructing her very own infantry-force that was notoriously despised throughout Africa as The Legion of The Doomed!

 With sickening and piercing eyes of bright yellow that inherited no virtue and lit-up during the day and night like glow-in-the-dark trinkets, they possessed the fiendish mien of evil-intent and had become the epitome of what one would appropriately define as eyesores. Consequently, with the influence of some of the gases in their systems acting as a correlative counter to modernized chemotherapy, hair-fossils for the doomed was quite rare, leaving them with no eyebrows and no eyelashes with just a few rogue long hair strands protruding from their ungroomed faces and abnormally massive skulls.

Due to the fact that they didn’t possess pain receptors in any parts of their flesh, which made it easy for them to adapt to any weather, they didn’t wear neither clothing nor shoes. Unlike the rest of mankind, The Doomed also did not require the essential nutrients of life such as air, water, and food in order to survive and continue their walk amongst the living. For them, preying on the innocent was the only sustenance they needed. Not even domesticated animals considered The Doomed to be human, for embracing soul-identifiers such as physical feelings and empathetic emotions were spirited entities that their bodies and hearts refused to embosom.

However, anger and negativity appeared to have naturally been the low degraded custom that was embraced, and that alone seemed to have given them a real sense of purpose. Because of the fact that The Companions of Death were a colonized species that subversively curtained themselves within underground societies for countless calendars following the days, months, and years after Al-Mout Àla Alim, they geologically devised their own communications system and began speaking to one another in what had become recognized as Às’Mawtic Dukӓr, the language of the dead.

Their syntax dialectal sounded more like broadcasted gibberish to those who possessed refined and sophisticated intellects outside their ranks. However, to their nonsensical low-brow antennas, the claptrap blabbering of their tongues had become a prominent means of their cognitive understanding during their every-now-and-again verbalized consultations between one another. The thing was, their Mawtic patois was just a trivial part of their overall persona, for they were in fact nefarious creatures that were synonymously reviled as the lowest of the low when it came to the remaining inheritors of the earth. Possessing nothing but pure malice in their hearts they were truly dead, in mind and in spirit!

Às-Habul Mawta’s dubious leader was none other than General Frankford Skully, the most atrocious of them all. Due to his previous history as an ex-Marine and 5-Star General within the United States military, Skully had great experience in leading men. It was only after being charged with treason by the Justice Department for rogue insubordination on behalf of the President of The United States, along with the selling of illegal arms to villainous regimes abroad that the General was dishonorably discharged and locked away inside a level-one military prison. Now that a new life in a new world somehow landed in his lap, he had no objections concerning his superiority within the ranks of his inferior counter-parts. In the new world, he only answered to the Queen, but even under certain circumstances he would find himself acting according to his own freewill, haughtily daring anyone to challenge him in its aftermath for doing so.

Under the tyrannical rule of Netcher, love had abandoned the earth while the epidemic of betrayal, deceit, corruption and death has claimed her. It was the worst of primitive times, and as successors of a destroyed province it wasn’t a shocker that there was and would continue to be an immense amount of individuals amongst mankind who would still willfully choose to embrace the turpitude of sin. However, not everyone who was fortunate enough to survive the blood infection had adopted the iniquitous handiwork of certain Jinns. For those upon whose hearts rested the virtue of righteousness, they understood that with the trust of a freewill came an entrusted responsibility. Possessing the beauty of nobility in their spirits, there were a handful amid mankind who rebuked the behaviors of the Jinns and heroically chose to become virtuous Legends instead.

Throughout their one thousand year history, those same Legends along with the Jinns understood that their cases were of permanent nature. It was common knowledge that once the effects of the Villa-147 poisons had settled and maturated within their bloodstreams, not only did their powers cultivate, but their height, weight, and their age would forever remain the same from the moment of their change until the moment they are killed. This scientific process was known to scientist as age thwarting.

It’s where the telomeres that played a very significant role in human aging was abetted by serving as caps on the tips of the Legends and Jinns mutated DNA chromosomes. Generally, when cells divide the telomeres become shorter, but at some point they begin to lose their protective ability which causes the cells to either die, enter into senescence, or stop growing altogether. Well, due to the bio-chemical toxins that was found in the Villa-147 Plague, the turned ones naturally produced an enzyme which stimulated and lengthened the telomeres.

It was only after adaptation that their mutation had caused the aging process to not only slow down dramatically but caused their aging to abruptly come to a complete halt. To some of them it was a gift, and to others it was an inconceivable curse. What they all had in common was the fact that neither of them possessed the power to change it. It had become a part of their DNA code, forever being passed down, skipping from generation to generation.

Queen Netcher’s run-ins with the Legends traced back the pass ten centuries. It was safe to say that they were well acquainted with one another. She was also very familiar with the traditions and values they possessed, and how they rested their faith in great hopes within the fulfilment of The Utopian Prophecies. The Utopian Prophecies were insightful forewarnings brought forth just after The Death of The Universe.

With immoral acts such as senseless murders, out of control drug usage, uninhibited fornication and promiscuity, adulterous infidelities and countless other major societal crimes seeming to have been the prevailing way throughout the pass three thousand years on earth, the people’s hearts truly needed a spiritual make-over. Previously just like in ancient times when societies seemed to have gotten too far out of control, there had naturally came a Prophet as a warner to mankind, sent forth with glad tidings for the honor and preservation of the righteous and God-fearing. Predicated upon the spirit of the faithful, it wasn’t soon after Al-Mout Àla Alim that such a warner had come and foreseen a majestic vision of the earth one day being restored back to its prime, ultimately having perfectibility within ideal and law-abiding societies. With such a divine forecast, Utopia became a mind-state of enchanted providence that could only be located within the heart of its believers, for they knew that there would certainly one day come a time when that mind-state would become their sure reality.

For the doubters, they could never find solace in belief. They were too concerned with what was directly in front of them and considering the fact that no one on earth had yet to cross the threshold of such non-perilous conditions in an upwards of five thousand years, they figured they would just rather concentrate on the instant gratification of the day and worry about the reprimands of tomorrow later. Although all of those who inhabited the earth were all suffering within tumultuous times, the Legends felt different.

For them, hope within the Utopian Prophecies wasn’t just about a matter of faith or simple belief, it was a certainty of the heart. Queen Netcher didn’t want any parts of that. She ran an evil empire, and she didn’t have any space for love, hope, or mercy. To her, those were all weak emotions, and the deaths of multiple rogue Jinns, as well as brave yet stupid Legends, were all nothing but prime examples of just how intolerable she was to such weaknesses when she relieved them of their heads and their heartbeats.

Since the destruction of the earth, ninety-five percent of all its remaining inhabitants lived in rural areas and small villages opting to stay connected to the organic nature of their primitive survival origins, while the remaining five percent of the people stayed within destroyed towns and cities throughout every continent whose infrastructures had unfortunately never been rebuilt. Regardless of their choice, there wasn’t a place within the motherland under Queen Netcher’s watchful eye where she didn’t reign as the ultimate authority. The entire continent has been her stomping ground for the past ten centuries. She even knew about the tiny black ant under the tiny black rock who tried to remain inconspicuous during the moonless black night. Shrewd to every detail in her kingdom, she understood that starting deep in the far south within what used to be established as Cape Town South Africa, only to head north and cover thousands upon thousands of miles far north up to Alexandria Egypt, were all destinations where-which the best of the best Legends and the worst of the worst Jinns have dwelled for the pass one thousand years or so.

What had once been known as the richest and most resourceful land on God’s green earth had now been whittled to ruin and seemed to have loss all value. Instead of the natural resources of coal, gold, diamonds and oil being barricaded beneath century-old rubble-rocks and infertile soil, it had all been ill-fatedly replaced with unrealized dreams, oppressed hope, and the deteriorating bones of the innocent and guilty. Without God’s Grace, the land would never again return to what it once was.

Over time, it had completely turned desolate, diminishing in usefulness as every state, city and town throughout was eventually renamed after the perverse personalities that the areas had become synonymous with. Now with every passing generation hidden deep within the dark and wretched alley-ways of Iniquity City…, concealed within the dry and hot sands of the Iago Desert…, sheltered within the fast paced burg of Sooth-Sayer City…, veiled within the conjuring smog of the Tumultuous Jungle…, stranded within the fiendish essence of the Umbra-Groom Village…, found within the entrenched refugee-camp of Tycoon Palace…, and perched within the not-so-sacred precincts of Dray-Gon City, were all locales in which malevolent Jinns occupied. They were locales where-with the truth had been buried, submerged deeply beneath the vulgarity of debauchery, sin, falsehood, and wickedness!

Queen Netcher sat erect in sovereign confidence as she overlooked the backdrop of the sea while the Legion of The Doomed aggressively sparred in the hind brickyard with long rusty spears. Lightning flashed sparingly illuminating the brood night while the follow-up of the obnoxiously loud thunder did nothing but add to the roars of the five thousand half-dead soldiers atop Mount-Skyon. General Skully swayed rhythmically throughout the ranks observing the contentious execration within his soldier’s bright yellow eyes as they engaged in their combative conditioning. Exalting within her residing control, Netcher was embracing the sentiments of odious malevolence as a devious grin began to form upon her gorgeous face. She had something on her mind. With the forceful cadence of the legion’s war-cries, along with the contemptuous disturbance of the hail-storm casually fading into the back of her subconscious, she began to drift into an in-depth daydream stemming from her loathsome actions of just a few days prior…

… It was the news of a miracle; a purported child being born inheriting the noble reincarnated heart of King Ameba and possessing the pulse of the universe that had Netcher fuming and inconsolable. Throughout all of Africa, such news had spread amongst all the local villages that this special child were only days away from being birthed. The tidings had given the people great hope, but she had other plans in mind.

She would be sure to suffocate their expectations and become the ordained oppressor of their opulent optimism, and she knew just how to do it. Equipped with her top soldier General Skully and followed by the eyesores of Às-Habul Mawta, she invaded every moral village across the continent where the Legends were known to have colonized. It wasn’t until they breached the grounds of the Siheed Village that she found what she had been on the hunt for all along. Foraying into the huge gated community in plundering fashion, the legion over-powered the villagers with an overwhelming advantage. Fear and panic had infectiously circulated amongst the natives as they were besieged and infringed upon.

Surrounded by a series of smaller villages, the Siheed Village sat upon an astounding five hundred acres of South African estate. Filling the space were an upward of six hundred and fifty huts manufactured out of wooded bamboo, date-palm leaf, baked clay, sun-dried patch-mud, and braided wild-straw for roof covering. There were approximately fifty acres worth of uncultivated field separating each of the three tribes on land.

The Bambara Tribe who had migrated two centuries prior from Northwestern Mali had made their move after a family of tyrannical Jinns crossed the Volta River and took a chock-hold of the voltaic area. It caused them to seek refuge in South Africa where the Legends of old had been known to have held the region in check. Then there were The San and The Mbuti Tribes. The San Tribe had inevitably migrated from the Kalahari Desert in Namibia, south of the Kongo-Zambezi watershed for the exact same reasons the Bambara Tribes did. They all feared execution from despotic Jinns who bombarded their lands in pillaging robbery of their resources. The Mbuti Tribe had left their homeland in the Ituri Jungle within The Democratic Republic of The Congo after taboo witch-crafted omens had been casted upon their forest long ago, and the idea of returning was no longer an option. Not long after, the entire region had been sucked dry, death had consumed it, and the conjuror spirits that lived there had turned it into what was now referred to as The Tumultuous Jungle.

Leaving everything behind, the Mbuti’s were the first immigrants to ditch the Congo and settle into the lower-end of South Africa where they began building and creating a safe space for refugee Legends and their families to live their lives free of conflict. Forming a trustworthy alliance which was built upon the foundation of solidarity and peace, the supreme chieftains of the trio tribes came together in a united front to suppress evil and become one tribe. After reasonable consideration they settled the matter by creating the origin of the Siheed lineage.

Once marrying off daughters to sons and mixing up the branches within their family trees, the three tribes united and took on the name Siheed, which was interpreted to mean sound, coherent and ethical. Voting in one chieftain from amongst all the leaders and forming a tribal Shura-Committee to cast votes on all matters that would affect the whole, they all agreed and made a covenant within the unit to rid themselves and their tribe of their previous traditional taboos, customs, superstitions and paganisms, opting instead to submit in revered servitude to The One and Only True God-head of all life.

Many centuries later, the village seemed like a geographical piece of art compared to what it once used to be after The Great War instigated its destruction. Possessing manicured fields, the natives had their hands full tending to twenty fruit and vegetable gardens, and ten separate storage shacks filled to its capacity with wheat, rice and barley grain. There were also hundreds of acres of nurtured pasture that was primarily cultivated for the grazing of their plentiful live-stock.

The Siheed bloodline were a village people who worked together to form and ensure the wealth of a sound and cohesive community. For centuries African tribes understood the symbolic significance of what it meant to have congruent alliances with other distant tribes just by watching the examples of worldly insects. Merely taking the models of bee-hives and ant-hills were paramount illustrations of just how possessing harmony, cooperation, and having a chain-of-command hierarchy would be greatly beneficial, as well as needed, in order for them to survive in such a changeable society. Although decency was a virtue that flowed throughout their bloodstream going back to the beginning of their ancestry, the Siheed community understood that just because they were God-fearing and ethical, it didn’t mean that they would be immune from the dangers that roamed beyond their gates. As much as the natives desperately tried to keep the outside elements of devious influences from penetrating their oasis, Netcher’s will was an exceptional force to be reckoned with.

As pandemonium ensued, the presumptuous trespassing of half-dead soldiers didn’t go unnoticed. Icesis Reign, a cute eight year old little girl with glacier crystal-blue eyes and short curly brunette hair was tending her arrow sharpening inside her family’s hut when she overheard the alarming dismay of frightened natives nearby. Glancing out from the entrance-way, she saw her worse nightmare becoming realized. The horrifying sight of real life monsters ransacking huts, pillaging, and killing everyone who revolted was simply too much for her young mind to take-in all at once. Reaching for her archery gear consisting of a refined home-made bow and arrow kit, she slipped out of the rear-end of the hut and sprinted non-stop through grazing pastures, up two small hills, and across the valley plain until she reached the opposite end of the village where her elders dwelled. Spotting a small crowd that previously gathered, she rushed over out of breath and began warning everybody of the disheartening terror she had just bare-witnessed to.

Mon…, mon, monsters! the disoriented little girl declared in search of oxygen. Twenty-six year old Circuit was a well-groomed African man with long coarse russet dreads with royal-blue tips. For some strange reason or another, he appeared to be over-confident in just about everything he did, swearing that he was the most handsome man on earth and was God’s gift to women. He was standing right next to twelve year old Sky-Kayo, a very modest and shy kid who unbeknownst to most had come from the premier root behind a sovereign empire. With indigenous Shintoism being his ancestral practice and spiritual way of life, he respected and called upon natural forces and honored his imperial forefathers in their works. With a renowned history, the preteen’s genes could be traced back up the lineage of Japan’s Han Haotó who became emperor and reigned as Lord over the Kủmikee Clan. Together, Sky-Kayo and Circuit both turned to face the little girl who was tugging at their backsides.

What’s this you’re talkin?, Circuit asked half-concerned as he glared down at the panicked adolescent who seemed to have had some sort of breathing deficiency. Monsters! Monsters! she reiterated in expiring asphyxiation turning to point towards the opposite side of the village approximately two hundred yards away.

Circuit and Sky-Kayo both made another turn, but this time turning towards the direction of the village entrance where Icesis Reign’s small pointed index finger had led them. Watching from over a hill, their eyes grew as wide as the earth witnessing for themselves just how the little girl’s improbable claim of monsters had just been confirmed as truth. Their mouths along with the mouths of everyone in eye-shot of the far-reaching scene had become floored in horrifying disbelief.

You might wanna tell the lady to push a little faster, Circuit advised referring to Lady Nettie-Rose, a well-respected Siheed woman who was inside a nearby hut surrounded by a group of mid-wives as she could be heard screaming out in excruciating labor pains. Guardian Maxximus, a seventy-eight year old American of Asian descent and revered by the natives as a Hafeez-Oracle as well as a Grand-Master Sensei in just about every mixed martial-arts skill known to man had been in a nearby hut when he overheard the indistinct commotion taking place outside.

Grabbing his three foot mighty-staff, he rushed out to see what was going on. One would’ve thought that the dwarfish and curvy maple wooded stick was barely strong enough to hold the old man up, but the staff wasn’t only just used as his crutch, it was also an extraordinary weapon of which under certain conditions was considered deadly. Maxximus was a wise old man with a very calming temperament and a lightning fast wit. The quality of his thinking had ironically seemed to have matched his appearance. However, although his long white and grey mustache and beard along with his long grey ponytail and wrinkled features would appear to make him look the age of an eighty year old, he moved with the fluidity of water.

Following close behind him was Warrior-Solomon, a young nineteen year old male student of his and seemed to have still been developing within the maturation process. Although he possessed handsome features with a pearly white smile, gel spiky hair and an even spikier attitude, at five feet eleven inches and weighing one hundred and seventy pounds of chiseled lean muscle, Solomon was one of Guardian Maxximus’s most decorated pupils. In unison they both abruptly stopped in their tracks simultaneously gasping in horror. Maxximus took a second to process what it was he was seeing.

It’s happening, he mumbled to himself as if he knew something no one else didn’t. A larger crowd began to form as the disturbance continued to spread with everyone briefly pausing and observing in ghastly awe at what was taking place on the other side of the village.

Unfortunately the young Legends were not quite mature enough within their abilities, and without the full potential of their cultivated powers, taking on their enemies at this juncture of their development would indeed be suicidal. This very fact had alone left them along with the pedestrian village people defenseless and susceptible to ill-timed vulnerability. Due to their helplessness, it would only be a matter of time before they too would also become casualties of Queen Netcher’s self-indulging impulses. Knowing what had to be done, Guardian Maxximus quickly sprang into action.

Pursue safety! he broadcasted to everyone in earshot just before bursting through the crowd of on-lookers right outside of Lady Nettie-Rose’s hut. He wasted no time rushing over to her bedside as she continued to give birth.

The agony of the childbirth was painstakingly unbearable for her. She was sweating profusely as she tried to control her breathing. Inhaling deeply, she slowly began to exhale in soothing fashion, but the method didn’t last long. Not able to endure the pain any longer, she yelled out in pure anguish and in search of relief, but it seemed to have only brought about more discomfort. Maxximus grabbed ahold of her hand in pleading desperation.

Listen, we are in grave danger! Your child is in grave danger! I really need for you to push okay, for we don’t have much time, he warned staring directly into her soft brown eyes…, It’s Netcher!

Nettie-Rose had an overwhelming feeling of worrisome-stress and unadulterated fear wash over her. Her face had instantly become flush. She not only understood what such news had essentially meant for her future, but also what it had essentially meant for the future of her unborn child as well. Hearing such a disturbing announcement, two of the younger interned midwives immediately decided to take the rest of the day off, retreating in fear while the two elder midwives stayed behind to help Guardian Maxximus tend to the lady as she continued to give birth. With loving support, he gave her a reassuring nod.

Now push! he demanded in rallying momentum. The urgency in his voice had galvanized an emotionally charged will within her to survive. Aaaaaaggggghhhhhh…! Again…, Push! he commanded yet another time sending her into over-drive. Aaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrggggggghhhhhhh….! That’s it, just one last big one…, PUSH!!! he pressingly encouraged knowing that time was a critical asset that wasn’t on their side.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrggggggggghhhhhhhhhh!!! she screamed-out pushing with an extreme intensity as she finally gained the relief she was desperately striving for. Ahhhh…, ahhh, ahh, the six pound seven ounce infant cried out in vocal disarray as Guardian Maxximus quickly wrapped the child inside a wool-nit quilt and handed it over to its grieving mother. Nettie-Rose’s breathing had calmed a bit as she sighed and took an elongated glance at her newborn baby for the very first time.

It’s a boy! she joyfully proclaimed in brief laughter. His name will be Blissful, for if he lives up to his name, his spirit will be blessed and remain in a state of well-being and contentment, she announced getting lost inside her child’s big sparkling bright brown eyes. His beauty had caused her to briefly forget about the eminent dangers that lurked about, even though it was only for a few seconds.

Knowing that they didn’t have many seconds to spare, Maxximus quickly dashed over to peek out from the hut’s doorway to see just how fast the malignant threat was approaching. Às-Habul Mawta, who was still being led by General Skully and Queen Netcher, was tenacious within their search of the alleged Blessed Child to be. Raiding the acreage and inspecting each and every hut, they subdued the children, enslaved the women, and annihilated the men as everyone ran for their lives downright horrified. Seeing this, Maxximus rushed back over to Nettie-Rose in a panic.

We have to get going, NOW! he enforced as he gently grabbed the safely wrapped infant from her arms while the remaining midwives tried to help her to her feet. Blood had soaked the genital area of her shoulder-to-floor cotton negligee, and the bleeding didn’t seem to be letting-up or subsiding. She needed to be treated and tended to by the village nurse-practitioner, but there was no time. Maxximus had moved to the rear of the hut preparing them for a hasty exit