The name lingering on the mouths of the dead, Chaos.

Screams, shrill, horrible screams of terror… some choked back, almost bloody sounding, all rising above towards the dreary gray sky. That very sky that had reflected the reds and oranges of the chaos below as a child’s eyes would reflect fear in the face of the boogeyman. All around the small town, men, women, and children scrambled around like animals running from the slaughter. Above the chaos, a faint, cruel laugh could be heard as a shadowy figure stood on a rooftop, taking in the sight of the village’s chaos, immersing himself in the feeling of their fear, laughing at their feeble attempts to flee. People called out to their loved ones, their children or their spouse. Some begged and pleaded for forgiveness, for mercy. Yet he simply stood there, laughing. He would see them all die, and he would be their death. He was their death, their destruction… He was their chaos.