• This game is under the Supernatural genre.
  • This game contains mature content.
Children of the Rain
It's funny, isn't it? We live our lives thinking everything is okay, all is right with the world. The sun will rise, the sun will set. You wake up and it happens all over again. You live, you die. And you trust that things will continue, that the world will maintain its status quo.

A woman sat in the grass, in the shade of a palm tree across the street from a high school. Her hair was blonde and cut short and messy, her eyes a shimmering blue. Across her nose and cheeks ran a ragged scar, a mark won from battles long passed. She wore a simple white tank-top and a sleeveless black trench coat, showing off tribal tattoos that ran from her shoulders to elbows.

Overhead, the sun was still rising, students still meandering down the sidewalks as buses pulled in. The blonde woman's gaze flicked between her phone and the students, impatience in her eyes. In the distance, she could hear a motor's revving growing louder and louder. As a motorcycle rounded the bend and pulled into the school parking lot, a nostalgic smile tugged at the blonde's lips. With a soft grunt of effort, she pushed herself to her feet.

That's the problem, though. You're trusting, but you're not looking. You don't dare peer into the dark corners of the Earth. You don't see the filth and grime that festers there. ...Or maybe you do. Maybe you've seen the forbidden places where man and monster stave off the end. And maybe you know that sometimes it's hard to know which is on which side.

The black sky met the sea, the stars shining above and shimmering below. A lone figure stood at the water's edge, staring up at the twinkling lights overhead. One star shone brighter than its kin, a newly-born guiding light reflecting in the figure's two, enormous eyes. The figure reached a clawed hand out of a tattered sleeve, translucent skin stretched between its fingers as it grasped toward the star, as if to take it in hand.

"Father Rahab," it called out to waves, "it's time."

But here's the funny part. The sun does rise and the sun does set. Day in and day out. The status quo is kept neat and tidy. The good guys win, the bad guys lose. You'd think, after all these thousands of years, that someone, somewhere would have slipped up. So let me ask you something.

A creature, a woman, stood upon a wave-battered rock as a typhoon hammered down upon her. Her skin was too pale, the colour of drowned flesh, her eyes a pure, bloody red and her hair grown long, matted, tangled and dripping wet. She wore the garb of a priestess - an open white robe that flowed to the ground, with sleeves that dangled a foot below her hands.

Beside her stood a man as tall as the mind, his presence as vast as space. He stared beyond the rock, as scarlet stone spires rose from the waves and took the shape of an empire. The world shook as he turned and spoke, a vengeful and relentless snarl on his face.

What makes you so sure it hasn't happened?

What makes you so sure that you aren't the filth and grime festering on the ruins of someone else's world?

Because that's what you are.

You're a disease.

You're a stain on our paradise.

You're filth.

And by my Father's tears, you will be cleansed.



Naomi Nishimura inhaled sharply as she jolted awake, a film of cold sweat clinging to her body. The Japanese girl shifted against the covers and sat up in bed. As the dream faded from her mind, she fought to hand on to what few scraps she could. Clenching her fists, she could feel the slight changes slowly churning through her body. She slipped her thumb between each finger, then put her hands together to feel it properly. Though she couldn't see it in the night's darkness, there was no mistaking it: the skin between her fingers had already inched halfway to the first joint.

Nishi let out a sigh as she slumped back against her bed's headboard, letting her arms go limp at her sides.


The girl's eyes wandered across her bedroom as thunder rumbled in the distance. Her frown only grew when the first drops of rain fell against her window.