1680 The streets of Beaumont Valley had been deserted. The townsmen had gathered around the woods near the Beau Valley. In the midst of the angry mob, stood a wooden stake. Tied to it was a beautiful girl with raven black her and silver-grey eyes. Her skin as white as porcelain. She was laughing in hysterics. “Beware, people of Beaumont. You think by ending my life and my fathers’ will save yours?” She laughed cruelly. “You are wrong! You will all die. You won’t even get your last wish as He will torture you so viciously that you will beg for death.” As the fire around her rose, her face turned red. Her body caught fire instantly as her skin melted like wax. Instead of painful cries, only laughter filled the air. “You can run, you can hide but one of your own will be your demise.”