A candle flickered within the gloomy, damp room. Shadows danced across the wall, almost unmistakable from the darkness. In the center of the room two figures huddled over a third.
A woman on the floor laid still, eyes closed. She raked in gasps of air with difficulty. She had an Indian resemblance about her, and although she was in her early twenties, aged circles had formed under her eyes. Long, dark hair flowed down unto her shoulders. It looked as if all of her energy was slowly draining out from within her; the woman’s strong familiar glow was now only an ember of hope.
A fourth figure crept into the room cautiously. The man was tall, and his body was well toned. He too was young, and had blonde hair cut back against his scalp. Worried lines made up much of his creased forehead, and his piercing blue eyes were locked on the woman crumpled on the floor.
“Will Aurelia be alright?” he asked.
Another young woman was crouched over Aurelia, checking her pulse once again. She tucked a lock of her soft, orange hair behind her ear. The woman was tall and lean, with a fragile appearance despite her height. She sighed and spoke slowly, “I’m not sure. Her pulse is lower than it’s ever been before.”
The other stout young male’s fist slammed down against the dirt floor and his brow furrowed with frustration. He had more muscle on him than that of the first man, Zeus. His short, brown ponytail quivered as his toned body shook with anger. “She will live, Athena!” he cried out.
Athena drew away from Aurelia and attempted to comfort Vulcan, the man who had shouted out; Zeus replaced her and clasped Aurelia’s hand. Vulcan looked into Athena’s face with his deep brown eyes.
Her hazel eyes gazed back into his as she whispered calmly, “It will be okay.”
“How do you know that?” Vulcan said, dropping his stare back to Aurelia.
“I don’t,” she replied, her eyes fixed on Vulcan. “It’s called faith.”
“Her breathing is increasing,” observed Zeus, his voice shaking uneasily.
True to his words, her chest rose and fell rapidly, and she was no longer still. Her fingertips were twitching, and Aurelia looked restless. Adrenaline flowed into her veins, but she herself was paralyzed.
Zeus froze as Aurelia’s eyes snapped open. A fog covered her stare. The three looked at each other anxiously; they had seen the same gaze many times before. The woman’s lips moved swiftly as a prophecy was whispered between gasps:

"Consumed by a green flash in the night
The sextet will transform into the extraordinary,
With eyes that will forever echo a freakish green light.

You will find three; one hot, one cold, and one lukewarm,
Much like the elements they sprout from their hand.
They soon become hard as granite for much needed defense.

The other three must shift for the legend to come alive.
One is known to roam the icy mountains; the other is often king of the jungle,
And the third resembles much of the night.

The two separate groups will be pulled together by fate,
Much like the way two magnets grip onto one another.
The bonds between them will be one of the rarest seen.

The sextet is split in two groups,
Each half hears unspoken words amongst themselves.
Their unremarkable speeds cause the earth to stand still.

But with great powers come great enemies.
Conquest will once again strike and intervene.
The six will have to pull together stronger than ever,
Even when doubt completely fills their heads.
They must survive, and to do so they must believe."

There was a pause as she wheezed and coughed, but she sputtered out one last warning verse:

"Their creator is also their kryptonite.
When it roars, the sextet is powerless,
And they will vaporize to nothing."

The words were spoken in a rhythm, and the fog impeding her vision vanished at the end of the prophecy.
“Complete the search,” she ordered weakly. “There is trouble on the horizon of the future. Only the six can succeed in stopping Vico through the ages of doubt,” Aurelia smiled crookedly, and shut her eyes for the last time.
“No!” shouted Vulcan as he buried his face against Athena.
Zeus continued to stare into Aurelia’s face, in disbelief of what had happened.
Tears began to stream down Athena’s face quietly. The era of good feelings had officially come to an end. The three had a search on their hands and the result was the key to success in the future.

Someone hid among them, unknown. His name was Demogorgon, better known as Vico, and he shared none of the grief that struck the other three. Legend has it that he smirked as he leapt into the shadows–onward–into the night.