Prologue: It was once 1757. After years, this year will also have been a year . After many years, many years would have been many years. And yet the cycle would continue.Because rules do not exist to exist, they exist to rule. And death is inevitable. ~ Rain is crashing down portentously on the tin roof of the outhouse... Rain and sleet have become indistinguishable in the little light that still remains. Dusk is long past: Twilight is dwindling with traces of dark uncertainty. The smell of death is in the air: musty, yet unnervingly fresh as always … Suddenly, as it always happens, a scream rends the fabric of the mad night. Almost quite as sudden is the appearance of the hulking man dragging his legs as if they had been recently broken. Without halting the man looks down at his broken watch. “Yes, it’s time.” He utters clearly and continues limping ahead. As an afterthought, he stops for a moment and unfastens the worn leather strap of his watch and flips it over in his palm. On th...