Quintessential Elemental: Death from Above, Nina's Story by Kevin Wikse

Nina glided from tree to tree, silent as a stringless kite, invisible to both eye and ear except for the briefest moments she crossed the face of the moon. Her quarry scurried below, a rat among New York City’s dirtiest, frantically seeking refuge from the owl it sensed above but could not locate. The city’s filth, once overwhelming to her senses, had become almost a comfort now—another element to master, like the air she now controlled so intimately.

Since her choosing, Nina had dedicated herself to honing her skills. The air was no longer just something she breathed; it was her ally, her weapon. She had learned to take soft, quiet inhales, retaining her breath mindfully, allowing her body to levitate effortlessly, as if weightless. The sensation was liberating but required exact control. One wrong move, one sharp breath, and she would shoot skyward like a balloon released from a child’s grip—untethered, wild.

Her exhale had to be even more precise, timed perfectly. Too slow and she would hover awkwardly, suspended and exposed; too fast, and she could hit the earth with all the grace of a brick. But when she timed it just right, she would descend gently, touching the ground with the softness of a falling leaf, her presence nothing more than a passing breeze.

Nina had made mistakes in the beginning—bruises, scrapes, harsh landings from exhaling too quickly, or the disorienting dizziness that followed when she drew in too much breath. But tonight, there was no room for error. Tyrese Samms, a mid-level enforcer with a sadistic streak, had been hired by an unknown hand to snuff out the ghost haunting Central Park. His sins ran deep, and his victims far too many. For the sake of those still vulnerable, he could not be allowed to see another sunrise.

Up here, suspended between the branches and the night sky, Nina felt something stir deep within her. She had become more than human, more than just a girl who had once run in terror. She was the huntress, the wind bending to her will, her breath the thread that bound her to the elements. And tonight, her quarry could not escape. Central Park was no longer simply a haven for the lost or forgotten. It had become her hunting ground, a sanctuary for the weak and a trap for the wicked.

Fear and rumor had begun to spread through the city's underworld. Whispers filled the alleys and streets, spinning tales of a feral bird, a dark angel, a silent predator too swift to see and too silent to stop. The criminals that once prowled Central Park like wolves now found themselves hunted, their violence returned to them in kind.

Among the homeless youth—those who knew all too well the dangers of the night—hope began to take root. The park became their refuge, a place where the wind itself seemed to protect them. They only had to hold on, to wait until the air shifted and brought with it the final, gasping breaths of their tormentors.

At least nine bodies had been found—twisted, mangled, and strung up like warnings to the others. Sociopaths, murderers, and rapists—each one silenced with brutal efficiency. The police couldn’t piece together the story, but those on the streets understood. A force had claimed the park, and it would not stop until the balance was restored.

Tyrese Samms had been sent to disrupt that balance, to bring down the vigilante. But now, with blood streaming from his shoulder and fear mounting in his chest, he realized the truth: he was no longer the hunter. He was the prey. His mission, the money, none of it mattered anymore. His only goal was survival, a dream that now seemed to slip further away with every step he took.

But Nina wasn’t done with him yet.

Unbeknownst to her, she had begun to pick up faint signals from Tyrese’s mind. Disjointed thoughts, fragments of his memories—faces, names, places—filtered through her consciousness. She could almost feel his panic as if it were her own. It was unsettling, and yet, it helped her track him, allowed her to anticipate his every move. He didn’t know it, but he was guiding her closer to his end.

She had swooped by him earlier, her father’s balisong knife—once given to him by his brother for protection—flashing through the night like the talon of a hawk. The blade had cut deep into his shoulder, not fatal but enough to send a shock of pain through his body, enough to remind him that she could end him at any moment. And she would.

Now, clutching his wound, Tyrese staggered through the park, searching desperately for shelter. But Nina remained overhead, gliding with the ease of a bird of prey, her breath controlled and steady, allowing her to stay just out of sight, just out of reach. Tyrese's fear was thick in the air, feeding her focus, keeping her movements precise. She would not rush this. His terror was a part of the hunt, a reminder of the chaos he had sown.

Finally, his nerves gave out. Sweat dripped down his face, and in a panic, he started firing wildly into the trees, his pistol cracking in the silence of the park. He cursed her with each pull of the trigger, but his bullets were no match for the wind. Nina knew the erratic gunfire could hurt others, the very people she had vowed to protect. It was time to end this.

Tyrese was a very large man, of considerable girth and significantly stronger than her. Nina quickly realized she couldn’t simply swoop down, wrap her arms around him, and haul him into the sky like a raptor with a rabbit. Releasing him from hundreds of feet in the air, letting death rush up to meet him. Nor could she afford the time to end him with a death by a thousand cuts. Swift resolution was now required.

With a deep, measured breath, Nina rose higher into the canopy, her mind quiet and clear. She could feel the wind beneath her, carrying her as she inhaled in perfect measure, hovering and readjusting her trajectory course until she was directed above him. Tyrese, still blinded by his panic, didn’t see her coming. He fired another round into the dark, sweat pouring down his face, before his gun clicked empty.

It was in that moment, as his trembling hand tried to reload, that Nina struck. Gripping with both hands and situating her father’s balisong knife blade down, she expelled her breath with a violent heave. She came careening down on him with the force of a meteor strike. The tip of the balisong pierced through the top of Tyrese’s skull, sending a shower of skull and brain matter into the air with an appalling concussive force.

He crumpled forward to the ground with a slump and thud. His hands and arms slapped the dirt with a sharp clap. Nina rode on his back, jarred and severely shaken by the collision. Coughing and semi-dazed, she could feel the hot blood splashing and lapping out of his perforated skull as bits of bone and brain dripped down her face. The maneuver was successful but would need practice and refinement.

Tyrese Samms would not see another sunrise, but due to his absence among the living, others would.

The wind around her shifted, cooling as it whispered through the trees. Another monster had fallen, another predator silenced. She glanced up at the moon, her body still humming from the force of the impact. This was her park now, her sanctuary. And she would continue to protect it, one breath at a time.

While investigating Tyrese Samms’ death, authorities stumbled upon a makeshift shrine hidden deep within the park, nestled between the gnarled roots of an ancient oak tree. The shrine was crude yet strangely reverent, its focal point a weathered statue of Saint Mary, painted entirely black. Her solemn face gazed out over the small clearing, a stark figure against the tangled backdrop of nature reclaiming the city. Around her, feathers from crows, ravens, and owls had been carefully arranged, affixed to the statue like armor. 

Tattered scraps of paper, many yellowed and torn, fluttered in the breeze. Prayers and petitions scrawled hastily in trembling hands were pinned to the branches above and woven into the twine that encircled the base of the statue. The requests were desperate, a reflection of the fear and suffering felt by those who had penned them. Words of longing, pleading for protection, for deliverance from the shadows that lurked in the park.

But one prayer stood out among the others. Its paper was fresh, the ink bold as though written with a shaking but determined hand. Tied directly to the feet of the blackened statue, it read: 

"Please grant me safety, and to evil, death from above."

The words echoed through the investigators' minds, chilling in their simplicity. In the wake of Tyrese's brutal death, they couldn’t help but wonder if this plea had been answered.

-Kevin Wikse

Thank you for visiting my page. I am the only medium, remote viewer, and occultist who, with frightening and stunning accuracy, foresaw the COVID-19 pandemic/hoax and its sinister connections to China. Masks, weaponized and experimental vaccines, mandatory compliance, medical tracking on smartphones, the debacle of the 2020 election, the border crisis, the ILLEGAL migrant and CCP invasion, the specter of World War III, and the looming Magnetic Pole Reversal Global Cataclysm—I predicted it all. VAIDS (Vaccine Acquired Immunological Deficiency Syndrome) and even Dr. Fauci himself, all in my sights as early as 2014. Don’t believe it? See the complete, time-stamped, and documented evidence HERE. 

Additionally, I accurately predicted BOTH President Trump’s assassination attempt and that Joe Biden would not run again in 2024 for re-election in my “Merry Crisis and a Happy New Fear” 2024 post on 1/1/24. HERE

I predicted the 2nd assassination of President Trump on Friday, 9/13/2024, which occurred on Sunday, 9/15/2024. HERE.

And that’s not all. My occult and remote influencing work played a pivotal role in the downfall of Jeffrey Epstein, the billionaire pedophile and human trafficker. This too is time-stamped and documented. Witness a true and authentic act of Solomonic conjuration from the Lesser Key, Ars Goetia. HERE. 

Please visit my Official Site HERE.