Back when I was a kid, I could still reminisce the moments when mom used to tell me stories about human-like creatures that grow white feathers whenever they do something good. These creatures that resemble angels of a certain religion usually live high above the clouds where naked eyes from the land can not reach. Most people call that secret place in the clouds—heaven; it is indeed, heaven, minus the houses of gold, the presence of saints, the book of life, the harps, trumpets, white dresses and all the other stereotypes entangled with that word. Those creatures that live in the so-called secret heaven in the sky are called Innocs.

The vast blue sky is a playground for the Innocs where they can soar whenever they want. They can even play with the vibrant spectrum of colors in the sky, rainbow rings and halos as they dash across the sunlight with their shadows glimmering on the mountains’ surfaces. I can see them hovering above with freedom, jubilance evident on the features of their faces, and they never bother about anything. They are free. They are happy. They can experience the things I can only do in my dreams; it is because, I was born on the other side. I live far beyond the crust; a kingdom similar to the underworld of Hades. That dreadful place is known under the name Hellbreak.

Unlike Innocs, creatures such as I grow dark feathers and black sharpened nails. The more sins we accumulate, the stronger our feathers come to be. Doing the wrong is the only option, for if an Illum detest doing the evil things, he will grow no black feathers. Time will come that all his feathers will fall out, and nothing can keep him from being sucked into the Hellpith (the bottom of Hellbreak that acts like a blackhole).

Hellpith is like a big continuous suction cup; if an Illum can’t fly himself away from it, then he’s done. Since flying is a means of survival, it can be deduced how fate destined us to do evil just to replenish our worn out feathers and survive. Caught up in the idea of survival, most Illums are known to become cunning and greedy. We are like Venus flytraps that will wait patiently for a prey and instantly zap on it when victory is assured.

Unfortunately, victory against our preys is always a piece of cake. They are the creatures that are as delicate as newborns. When caught, they can’t even put up a fight. You can’t call this a battle between a predator and a prey; the better term to be used is… a murderous onslaught. Yes, a murderous onslaught of helpless Innocs that are so innocent and pure, they don’t know that cursed lives exist below their paradise until they experience a living nightmare under those blood-filled hands.

The war between Innocs and Illums have started since the beginning of time; that is what the elders taught us. But to my perspective, there is no war. All I can see are Illums cannibalizing poor Innocs that plead for their life, and of which their pleading was never ever granted, not even once. I sure pity those pure and poor things that fly in the sky, but there’s no room for hesitation if I want to live. After all, I am an Illum and Innocs are my prey.