Spoiler
I decided to rewrite this a few days ago, and since it's free literary day, I thought I might as well post it to get a few reviews, so it's not so crappy. 
I need a title though. Anyhow, thanks!
I need a title though. Anyhow, thanks!Prologue
The old man, loosing youth while still gaining power, rubbed his wrists, now raw from the rusty chains that once burdened him.
A young man, by the name of Ash Faraday, ran his crummy fingers down the side of his blade. A bronze dagger, crafted by the finest of elves. A gift from his deceased father. Ash ran his fingers through his lush black hair, before approaching the elder, seated Indian style on the floor.
“Why have you brought me here?” The old man asked. A puzzled look passed across his face, as though the fish he had thrown back had appeared at the end of his hook once again.
“Stand up!” Ash spat. The old man sighed wearily, but he did as he was told reluctantly.
Ash pressed his knife against the man's neck, drawing a slight drop of blood the color of pure gold. It shone brightly, too bright for mortal eyes.
“We needed a distraction, Shangai,” Ash hissed, so close to Shangai's face that he could feel his breath on his neck.
Shangai frowned, “ A distraction for what?”
A smirk appeared on Ash's face, quickly morphing into a twisted grin, “A distraction for the End, of course.” Ash made it sound as if Shangai should have known this already.
But before Shangai's words could escape from behind his lips, Ash's soldiers were slowly approaching from behind, and tying a cloth over his mouth, causing his breath to become heavy.
“Now Shangai, we wait.”
Chapter One
The mountains rolled past, it seemed they were never ending, until the scene gradually became flat and marshy, with the Chautauqua Lake in sight.
I sighed. It was not like I chose New York as our summer getaway. I mean, the weather was chilly, there wasn't much for photographers, and just the same old fishing shacks and messy camp areas.
From the front seat, my dad gasped, his weary eyes beaming in excitement.
“Jasey look! The sun's barely up and there's already a boat on the lake!” he exclaimed.
“Exciting,” I commented sarcastically. My dad groaned, but my mother decided to speak up from him.
“Jasey, look, I know this isn't where you wanted to go this year, but maybe you can find some nice outdoor places to take pictures of.” My mom has tried to reason with me before, and it surprised me how she hasn't given up yet.
I rolled my eyes from the backseat.
“Look, we'll be there in a half an hour,” my dad attempted. I shook my head, and shoved my ear plugs into my ear and submerged into music.
* * *
“We're here!” My mom beamed from the front seat. I rubbed my eyes, and gripped my duffel bag. Slinging my bag around my shoulder, I jumped out of the car.
My mom shook my shoulder gently, “Aren't you excited?” I rolled my eyes again. We followed my father to a wooden cabin surrounded by lush forests that were surprisingly beautiful.
The cabin, on the other hand, looked like it hadn't been used since Abraham Lincoln was president. My dad unlocked the door of our rental cabin, and pushed open the creaky wooden door.
We stepped inside. To my left, there was a small kitchen with a mini refrigerator. On my right, there was a small living room with a television, and a couch.
I continued to walk down the hallway, until I reached my room. I left my parents with the bedroom with its own bathroom, and stumbled into the small room.
I threw my bag down on the twin bed, and dragged my finger down the surface of the dresser. Then, looking at my now dusty finger, I headed to the bathroom to wash my hands.
I headed back into my room, the floorboards creaking underneath my tennis shoes. I searched my duffel bag, throwing around clothes, socks, a toothbrush, and a book to finally discover my digital camera, carefully wrapped in a tank top. With the camera in hand, I headed curiously into the woods.
* * *
The sun began to beat down on my back as I walked through the trees, occasionally stopping to take a shot of something interesting.
The trees rustled behind me, and I swung my head around to investigate. I didn't see anything, must have been the wind.
I lifted my head to take a picture of the sun, peeking in at me from behind the trees, when I felt something hot against my neck. Someone... something breathing on my neck.
“What do we have here?” a voice hissed, menacingly. My breath began to thicken, it was as if I was paralyzed. A shiver ran up my spine, and I stiffened.
“Who-who are you?” I stammered. A chuckle. And then another voice, from further away. Not sure what to think, I stayed where I was.
“Back away slowly, and you won't get hurt,” I tried to see out of the corner of my eye, but just then, the voice beside me chuckled, and then he wasn't there. Just a breeze. A puzzled feeling inside me was washed away, as I spun on my heel to look at what was happening.
A boy, he looked around 17, a year or two older than me, was standing with a knife drawn. He wore a breast plate of armor, and dark black jeans. He had coconut skin, and blond hair that looked sun bleached.
I recognized the voice coming from the man beside him. This man wore a black cape, that swayed in the wind behind him. He had curly black hair, and red eyes like fire. His eyes met mine, and I felt an eerie chill as if he'd come straight from the depths of Hell.
“Gotcha,” the boy hissed. But the black haired man just smirked, as if it was no big deal that he was about to get killed.
“Don't try and run away now, warlock, you know I'll catch you.” The boy, the one holding the knife, was speaking. His voice was like honey, but steady and deep at the same time. Warlock? I thought they were the creatures I sometimes read about in storybooks when I was younger.
The “warlock” chuckled, and with the flick of his wrists it seemed nails, long and sharp as knives, just slid from his fingers. I gulped, as I soon realized why the "warlock" didn't seem frightened by the boy's knife.
The “warlock” cackled, and in a blink of an eye, he somehow was holding the blond boy with one of the “warlock's” hands holding his behind his back, the other had a claw dragging against his lip playfully. My mind couldn't process what was happening. I stood frozen, watching them fight.
Blood, the color of gold, seeped from the boy's lip. This can't be real, I thought. I began to step back cautiously. I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.
The “warlock” looked into the boys eyes from over his shoulder and smiled. “Gotcha.”
