Eventide excerpt

   Humanity liked to imagine they’d known evil during their brief time on the Earth. They’d written about it, made movies about it, glorified it and, for many, endeavoured to become it.  They thought they’d seen iniquity in the eyes of murderers, cultists, witches and foolish youths labouring to be something they knew nothing about.  The world of vampires and werewolves had become pop culture, little more than adolescents with hairless chests hissing, growling and flaring their nostrils.  Folklore had been driven into despondency, etching what was once dark possibility into now clear and discernible signposts, which pointed towards shadows that held the hands of those who mocked what once remained unseen and unknowable.  The world had grown weak and its residents weaker still.  Maturity had bred fools and followers rather than those who might lead, and those who pretended to lead merely made fools of their followers.  The world and its denizens had little left to do now but wait for something they still knew nothing about.  Pompous, conceited and as hollow as the caves from which they’d crawled, Jabez had once wept at the very thought of spending another unwanted moment breathless with despair amongst them.  They thought they held the universe in their palms; in truth they still owned the hands of children...