Sybil, Premonition of the Hellion
Time could be a funny thing within this domain. For the denizens of this section of the infernal plains, days could often slip by as if they only existed within that of a single blink of an eye. For others, usually those burdened to extreme monotony or duress, it was the inverse as a single day could stretch out near limitlessly; time losing all meaning as their reality melted into a malleable substance easily controlled by those at the top of the food chain. While she was certainly not a big fish, within the murky waters of this fluidity of time, Sybil thrived. Time had become her ally. After all, this domain was her own burden to bear and… oh boy, did it also come with its own share of curses.
A nagging sensation pried Sybil away from her task involving delicate calculations. A tiny spike of pain slowly arched from the back of her head, a sensation not all too dissimilar to that of an injury still freshly recovering. But to Sybil’s recollection, she couldn’t place a time in which she had sustained any such injury. Time, right… time wasn’t so black and white here.
As the pain manifested again, she knew it to be an echo. A ripple cast from the future.
Of what, the tendrils of fate whispered though, sometimes it was nearly impossible to decipher. As her mind focused on the faint trails like wafting smoke, an image took shape more clearly than usual. A blade, that of a butcher. Its color was a shade dark as night. Black was a clear omen of death.
Sybil questioned the nature of her vision and why it had been so crisp in its delivery. Then it hit her. It was a premonition of death, seemingly one of her own finality reaching out as a warning. One question stuck out… Who? Who was brazen, no… dumb enough to try and murder her? Emboldened and bubbling with excitement, she put aside her tasks. They could wait. She had all the time she could ever need and yet it felt scarce. This was a matter of life and death after all. And yet, what could be more devilishly fun.
