Midsummer Shadows

[lilyice]

As the chatter in the cart continued on, Kathy looked over to the crouched boy in the corner that was supposed to be Sen. Apparently, he talked to plants. Of course, that isn’t too strange, considering what had happened on this day. The blonde thought that nothing much else would surprise her anymore, at this rate. The reality that she knew and lived in had been shattered. Just like that. She knew now to expect the unexpected, which isn’t really… unexpected anymore, if one expects it. Kathy didn’t really know where the saying came from, but it didn’t make much sense, if she really thought about it. What was the word? Not an oxymoron… something else.

 

Absorbed with her sudden, spontaneous thought about the English literature, Kathy failed to notice the change in scenery from outside the carriage window. By the time she looked up, they were already travelling on the pathless forest floor, which meant they couldn’t possibly be in New York anymore. In all her life, Kathy has never left New York. Once. It was her city. And now she was gone from its familiarity, its safety, and its shelter. Her eyes developed a glazed look as she sat silently and holed herself up in her toiling emotions. She felt… strange. Not quite sadness, but she just couldn’t pull herself together to look forward to this adventure she’d partaken on. Perhaps it was just a resigned emptiness, the blonde realized.

 

The carriage lurched to a halt, and Kathy found her sight set on a pair of enormous iron gates. It was something right out of a medieval fairy tale, with the gargoyles on the side and the specific decorations placed intricately on the gates. Wryly, Kathy thought that she wouldn’t be much surprised if a giant, olden-styled, Victorian mansion appeared next, surrounded by an impeccably kept clearing with flowers and trees. And lo and behold, there it was. The horned creatures pulling the carriage galloped up a little dainty path, right to the huge stairwells leading into the mansion. As they stopped yet again, to let their passengers off, Kathy stepped out just in time to see the little cart of the two swerving off into another direction. Hazily, a memory appeared reminding her that it was the cart that Gordon and who-knows-who-else were on. She didn’t think much of it as she followed the black-haired whip lady into the impressive building.

 

Ignoring all glances directed at the group of teens, Kathy strolled into a hallway that was designed like a typical living quarter. The woman – Miranda, was it? – unlocked four doors and separated the hybrids into the four different rooms. Kathy found herself shepherded into a shared room with the cream-haired girl that was arguing with Varianne earlier on. Great. A somewhat hot-headed one.

 

Sweeping her gaze over the layout of the room, Kathy was despaired to find no windows. She didn’t think she could live here, without being able to gaze out at the sky, the natural scenery, or even, heck, skyscraper buildings that she get so annoyed with seeing in New York. Then again, perhaps this was temporarily. They didn’t get abducted just so they could be wasted away slowly and die in a box, did they? Kathy didn’t think so.

 

She made a distasteful expression at the “food” offered to them, and instead plopped down onto the bed the furthest away from the iron door that Miranda presumably locked. She was feeling quite drained – both physically and emotionally – and just wanted to bury herself in a deep sleep, where she can be lost in her dreams.

 

Suddenly realizing that there was, in fact, another human being in the room with her, Kathy resisted her urge to close her eyes and sat up, facing the other girl. She had to remember her manners at least, no matter how she displeased she was with her situation.

 

“Hey. I’m Kathy, I don’t think we’ve introduced ourselves yet. What’s your name?” The blonde attempted a smile, but it appeared strained and tired. She was in no mood to talk, but perhaps a little conversation would help some.

[Kira1]

When they had arrived, Danni exited the carriage, looking up at the building before them with wonder. She kept her face quite impassive however, since she wasn't going to let anyone taunt her about being amazed with the building. They were then led inside and through the mansion to some rooms that they were let in to. It was very organized and clean, unlike her room back home, and empty looking somehow.

 

As she thought about how different it was than her own room, she began to miss her room. She went about inspecting the room, catching the sound of the door being locked behind them which made her a bit nervous, but at least she wasn't alone. It would have probably been worse if she had been the only one in the room.

 

There was another girl in the room with her who seemed to be just as unhappy about the room as Danni was. The girl sat down on the bed, wanting to relax, but then seemed to remember that there was another in the room and stayed sitting up. As the girl introduced herself and asked Danni for her name, Danni went and sat on the other bed, looking Kathy in the eyes.

 

"I'm Danni," she introduced herself, figuring she should be nice to Kathy since they would be in this room together for awhile most likely. Danni was still her practically antisocial self and didn't say much else. Her eyes began to wander around the room again as she took in what was where. She hoped that they wouldn't be in the room for much longer though, since she wanted her answers and that was why she came to this place. There were strange things going on, and she was going to be answered. It didn't matter who answered her, as long as someone who knew what was going on did.

[Walker]

Once his eyes adjusted, he only got a view of the carriage for the flash of a second before his vision danced again and he shut his eyes before the unnatural dizziness made him nauseous. Although his eyes were shut, his ears were perfectly fine. He heard a variety of reactions to his entrance, everything from an exclamation of disgust to someone saying they could join them on the benches. He ignored all of it and stayed right where he was. He wasn’t really in the mood to move anywhere at this point, even up onto the benches. Actually, he wasn’t even in the mood to be snappish to the one who had said ‘Ugh!’ when he came in. That, if anything, was a true indicator of his frame of mind at that moment. He was too disgruntled, annoyed, and frustrated at his current situation and the pain to even voice it.

 

The lurch as the carriage moved made him suddenly nauseous, what he had been trying to avoid when he shut his eyes tight. He struggled to keep some nasty tasting bile from erupting from his stomach. He just barely managed. Occasionally, it would come back up, trying to claw its way out of his throat and into his mouth, but he managed to swallow most of it back. This was enough to keep both his mind and body occupied most of the trip to wherever they were going, but he did have one stint where his mind wandered for a moment. He was sorry that Barbie had been dragged into this, mainly because he’d have to put up with her annoyingly cheerful face for who knows how long. When he had grudgingly accepted her… he could admit to himself that he had accepted her help, and so he chose to replace the word help with ‘advances’, he’d had no inkling he was going to be stuck with her presence longer then he wanted.

 

He was relieved when the carriage door was opened though. He finally opened his eyes at the ruckus and watched as everyone but himself, Barbie, and the unconscious girl climbed out. Now that the carriage had stopped moving, much of the nausea had drained away and his mind cleared a little, bringing back some of his usually feisty and fighting spirit, although not much of it. It was enough for him to glare haltingly at the man who had told them to get to the carriage earlier as he climbed in, grabbed the unconscious girl and climbed out again. His eyes betrayed only a fraction of the frustration, anger, and flashes of pain he was feeling at that moment. The anger only increased when the man stated his question. He had felt appreciative earlier when he didn’t make a fuss of his injuries, but asking him whether he was more frightened of one thing or the other was a blow to his ego.

 

”I’m not afraid of either… “ he muttered under his breath, but not loud enough for either Barbie or the man to overhear. They might note his muttering, but it was quiet enough neither would grasp the meaning, unless one of them had super hearing that was. He couldn’t be sure. He had seen possessed dogs and flying horses. It wasn’t much of a stretch to think one of these two could be something akin to Superman minus the spandex… hopefully.

 

Still, the more he thought about what the man had said, the more he smoldered and the more righteous indignation he felt. Eventually, it canceled out much of his common sense and the awareness of the pain he was feeling. He made a move, drawing his legs up and preparing to stand, but even that one small movement made his vision swim and the nausea to come back. He frowned defiantly as the bile rose in his throat again. He wasn’t going to appear weak again. Being carried to the carriage was already a stain enough on his damaged ego. Silently, and with the slightest disdain, he pulled on some of his reserve strength and pushed himself to his feet. He wobbled for a second on his damaged leg and it felt as if someone had stabbed him in the rib, but when he reached out a hand t the wall of the carriage, he was able to stabilize himself enough to stay standing, but who knew for how long that would last.

 

His vision was still swimming and the nausea lurked around the corner like a viper waiting to strike, but he ignored it all, glared defiantly once more at the man, took his hand off the wall, and staggered out of the carriage without any aid. A sense of pride caused him to smile for a little bit and his pale face to flush red, but soon the pain was enough to distract him and drag him back to reality. He sure knew he wasn’t in the condition to climb the stares. For all he knew, he could lurch to the ground again at any moment, but he was proving he wasn’t afraid at least. He lurched towards the strange flying horse creatures and stopped at the side of one.

 

He grimaced for a moment as he realized the nausea had come to the point he couldn’t hold it back anymore, and now he was breathless too from the trek out of the carriage. His chest screamed in protest as he struggled to get both a good breath and hold back the bile at the same time. In a few seconds, he was suddenly in a state where his body was doing a strange mixture of heaving up the contents of his stomach, coughing, and gasping for air while he struggled to prevent himself from puking all over the flying horse. He had seen what one of its kind had done to the girl. He didn’t want to risk angering it by puking all over it. His hands flew up to his mouth and he tried to ignore every stab of pain that echoed from his side after every cough or heave. It was a fruitless effort at first. A little bile managed to make it out of his mouth onto his hands, but after that he managed to choke it down. The fit of coughing soon relented afterwards too and he was left merely struggling for breath, which he soon regained too.

 

After he did, he drew his hands back and looked at them in disgust. If it wasn’t bad enough that he was covered in mud and blood, but now puke had to be added to the list? He was startled to see something he hadn’t been expecting though. His eyes bulged out of his head and he forgot to breathe for what seemed an eternity. Fear gripped at his chest and made his heart go wild like a jackrabbit. He couldn’t stare at his hand much longer or he would go insane. He wiped the blood off on his shirt, hoping no one had noticed his had had been ruby red just a moment before. If they hadn’t seen it on his hand after he was coughing and heaving, no one would notice it on his shirt. He was already covered in blood as it was. No one would know the difference between it having come from his leg or from inside him, other then himself of course. Even when most of the blood was wiped away on his dirty shirt though, he was still staring blankly into space, a look of acute fear in his eyes. His face had taken on a more acute pale color then it had before. The last time he had puked up blood he was in the middle of struggling for his life with a disease that ruined his own existence. He couldn’t help but feel scared he might be thrown in that situation again. He would be able to stand it if the blood wasn’t caused by cancer, but if it was, he wasn’t sure he would be able to accept that or live through it again. It was only his common sense that kept him the tiniest bit sane though. The fact a large animal had pretty much crushed his chest earlier in the day to remind him that it was probably related to other things, but a thick lump of fear was still lodged in his throat.

 

He was so intent on his fear, the pain had subsided to the back of his mind. With seemingly little effort, he swung himself onto the back of the flying horse creature. The others were bound to notice the shift from struggling for breathe to seemingly perfectly fine, but he didn’t care. His mind was elsewhere, as his glassy eyes attested to. His blind fear was enough to block out any other pain or concerns. He didn’t even register the shrieks of protest from his side as he lifted himself up. If anything, fear was the most potent distraction from pain ever invented.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Lakshmi had been watching Carlie struggle his way to the horse with silent interest. Her eyes nearly bulged from her head when he was one moment coughing up a fit and the next pulling himself up onto the back of one of the creatures with seemingly little trouble. She did note, somewhat strangely, that he wiped something on his shirt, but she couldn’t be sure what it was, so she shrugged it off. As soon as he was mounted, she was pulled away from her observance of him and felt excitement build in her chest. She couldn’t be more then thrilled to be asked to ride one of these creatures. She had been mesmerized by them when she first saw them and her interest still hadn’t dwindled. It was like a dream come true. She knew she could walk up the steps, but she wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. Despite the burning in her arm, the time it took the carriage to get here was enough to restore some of her strength after carrying Carlie. The only reason she hadn’t moved from the ground immediately, even after the girl had offered her a spot on the bench earlier, was Carlie himself. She’d preferred to stay seated right next to him.

 

She silently stood up. She was still extremely sore from the large amount of exercise, but she wasn’t incapacitated. She slipped out of the door, through which she had been watching the proceedings of Carlie, and made her way lightly over to one of the horses. She admired It for a moment before she smiled and swung herself up. Her bad arm screamed in protest for a moment, but she was too blissfully happy that she was getting the chance to experience this to care as much as she should. When she sat on the creature’s warm, bony back she was surprised when it suddenly lurched at the same moment as Carlie’s did. Carlie didn’t seem taken aback at all. His eyes seemed to register for a moment the movement, but he seemed far away at the moment. His eyes had a glassy, dazed look. She didn’t question this at all because she knew she often looked like that too, when her dreams got a hold of her she became distant from reality. Unlike Carlie though, she nearly wrapped her arms around the creature’s neck in surprise and panic, but that soon dwindled when they were off the ground and flying to the top of the steps.

 

She smiled again and rejoiced at the sensation. It was more amazing then she had imagined, but the flight was only a short one. It took less then a blink of an eye for the creature to make its way to the top of the steps and land again; the one Carlie was on following soon after. She sighed wearily and dropped from it’s back. She looked at the creature forlornly and with a desire so deep it caused her eyes to smolder, but she couldn’t take another ride unfortunately. She turned to Carlie and waited for him to dismount too. He didn’t. His eyes still had the same glassy look they had had down at the bottom of the steps. It seemed an eternity she stood waiting there, waiting for him to realize the flight was over and he could come down now. There was absolutely no reaction from him. Eventually, she spoke up, amusement coloring her tone, ”You can come down now.”

 

That seemed to jolt Carlie back to reality. He shook his head as if to clear it of cobwebs and slid silently to the ground. He stood for a moment, looking around at their surroundings, but the glassy look returned to his eye in fairly quick time. Nothing of what he was seeing seemed to register. He sighed wearily and sank to the ground, sitting and continuing to stare, but seeing nothing. He was so detached from reality; he might as well have been blind. A flash of awareness built in his eyes for a moment as he looked at her though and he immediately turned his head away so she couldn’t see his face. Lakshmi was confused, but she didn’t ask questions. There was no need for words as far as she saw it. Instead, she diverted her attention back to the winged horse and smiled, remembering the short ride with fondness.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

 

Carlie turned away from Lakshmi for one reason only. He didn’t want anyone to see him crying. He was so panicked he was sure he was going to. Just as he expected, he felt a tear roll down his face. He immediately reached up and wiped it away before anyone could notice the glittering drop on his face. He sighed with relief when no other tears came. He was angry at himself for being so weak.

[MURDERcomplexx]

Breckin took to staring at his hands again, half-expecting a flame to jump-start from his fingertips. All around him, the teenagers were wondering aloud the topic himself and Sophia had set up. Another unfamiliar name was mentioned, and he turned his attention to the one she pointed at, Sen. The boy appeared frightened by something, clawing and covering his ears like he'd been trying to block these strange voices out.

"Water, fire, and earth make sense, but then what element would Sen's be? He can talk to plants and that doesn't really seem like an element to me."

"Talking to plants? Maybe that's why he's been covering his ears all day. We're surrounded by them...

 

He soon noticed the quiet girl who hadn't spoken her name when he'd originally come upon what was so far the strangest day of his life. She still appeared as unsociable and cold as ever. Breckin didn't bother to strike up anything with her. Instead, he turned his head to see Carlie and a strange, dark skinned female both collapsing on the carriage floor. They appeared as weak and injured as the Electric Girl (which Breckin had taken a liking to calling her). He wasn't surprised at all to see Carlie in such a state, but the fact he had accepted help was a shock. Then again, maybe even he realized that time was running thin, just like the patience of everyone present.

 

Suddenly, the carriage gave a jolt. The pegasi whinnied outside, and Breckin watched the surrounding outside the carriage begin to change. Finally, after what seemed like an endless onslaught of waiting, they had begun to move. Surprisingly, they glided through the cars and concrete of the city as if they were made of air, and nothing around them seemed to notice the ridiculous sight.

Once or twice as he stared out the window, Breckin caught sight of what seemed like people he knew from Decemberunderground. In those moments, he quietly raised his hand to the window, looking out longingly like he wanted to break free. But it was much too late to be having second thoughts. The gray and colored lights gave way to a much more nature friendly scene. Breckin watched the endless expanse of trees with wonder. He'd almost never been outside the city limits, and even then the sight of such incredulous rural beauty was something he could never enjoy outside postcards of friendly country homes with the cut grass lawn, and the forest of trees behind it.

 

They came to a halt before he knew it, and the calmest of the Umbralatronis he'd seen opened the carriage door to let them out. They were ordered to follow another, a female he was sure he'd never seen, and carefully sidestepping the three injured teenagers, joined the group of stragglers that began to follow her.

Breckin observed the dozens of Umbras running around with a frantic pace, rushing to finish goals that he could only wonder about. Manyl seemed to notice the teens, and many took a moment to stop and observe.

The female Umbralatronis began showing them to their rooms, sorting them all in seemingly by sex. Soon enough, only him and another were left, and she placed them both in the windowless, cell-like surrounding.

 

Breckin waited until her footsteps faded, and could hear nothing else around him. He turned to observe the room. No windows, a pitiful meal on a table, and three shoddy beds against the wall. Still, they were the only beds Breckin could ever remember being able to touch. Carefully he stepped from the wall, running his hand on it with fascination.

"A real bed...and just for me..?

It seemed to him like their less than homely surroundings were simply the greatest thing to happen to him. Breckin climbed onto the bed and turned his head to face the other boy. He'd almost forgotten he was here.

"Er...you were on the carriage when I got there right? Did I ever catch your name?

[Mangaholic]

Brunor received two completely different reactions for what he had previously thought to be a harmless question. The Indian girl’s face had lit up with thrill and excitement at the mention of riding the winged horses, so much that Brunor felt a tiny blossom of amusement lighting up the gloom in his heavy heart, making him feel slightly better. He knew the girl wouldn’t need to ride one of the pegasi since the only wound she had was on her arm, but he wasn’t about to ruin her joy and ecstasy. The tall, pallid boy, on the other hand, seemed horribly resentful of Brunor’s implied offer to ride the horses, as if he believed that the old man was mocking him for his weakness.

 

He clearly heard the quiet, muttered words beneath the boy’s breath but he ignored them, pretending as if he had never heard them at all. Still, as he watched the boy limp painfully over to the side of Kiril’s midnight black steed, he couldn’t help but silently mock the boy for his seemingly stoical words. After all, if he wasn’t so afraid of the stairs, why didn’t he just take them? It would have made a better image on his pride than accepting the offer of riding one of the pegasi.

 

It was a good thing for the boy that he had chosen to walk up to Kiril’s stallion instead of Tristen’s. The black stallion was far more subdued than Arod, who had proved countless times to have an extremely short temper. It wasn’t just Varianne whom he had assaulted because of some petty matter. Even now, Brunor could see the amusement alit in Arod’s dark eyes as the silver pegasus watched the blood-soaked boy approached Kiril’s horse. The amusement grew when the boy’s hands flew to his mouth, and his sides heaved, implying that the boy was just barely managing to hold all of his vomit in. Brunor was pretty sure not even Kiril’s horse would be able to keep his calm if the teenager ended up barfing all over him.

 

Brunor turned his back to the boy to close the doors of the carriage. He waited for the short Indian girl to slip out first before he shut the doors. With a soft whistle, he commanded the horned horses to take the carriage back to its proper place. He wasn’t worried that they would get lost or anything, since they were already on the estate. Where else could they go? Besides, they all knew their way back to the stables, and the sooner they got back, the sooner they would get to eat.

 

The pale yellow horses galloped off, and for a moment, Brunor stood watching them, making sure that one of them didn’t stop to eat one of the flowers. None of them did, though he could have sworn that one of them made a failed attempt at one of the plants. When he turned back around, he was taken aback to see that both of the teenagers had managed to mount the pegasi – the boy on the black stallion and the girl on the silver one. Arod didn’t seem to mind the girl, probably due to the fact that she was a lot better-looking and cleaner than the guy.

 

Brunor gave a slight nod to the pair of stallions, and almost simultaneously, the pegasi threw open their pitch-black wings. They leapt forward, flapping their wings once in unison, before Arod naturally took the lead. In barely a few seconds, both of winged horses landed gracefully at the top of the stairs.

 

Brunor dashed up the stairs to catch up to them, at a speed that would have been that would have been surprisingly quick for a normal human, never mind for one who was carrying a girl on his shoulder. He reached the top of the stairs nearly at the same time that the Indian girl had slid off of Arod. As she gazed at the horse, Arod blew softly on her face, more playfully than anything. He stood aloof from the two pegasi, watching the girl stare forlornly at the silver stallion with another look of amusement, though this time a hint of sadness joined his eyes. He seriously did not want to drag such innocent teenagers into a mess like this, not only because he thought that a bunch of sixteen-year old could do nothing but also because he didn’t want to ruin their lives. The naïve wistfulness carved upon the girl’s face stabbed at Brunor’s heart, causing him to realize just how cruel the Umbralatronis were being.

 

At a few amused words from the Indian girl, the boy slipped off of Kiril’s horse and remained standing for a moment, examining his surroundings. There was such a glazed and distant look in his eyes that Brunor wondered if the boy was even paying attention to what he was seeing. Eventually, the boy sank wearily to the ground, as if fatigue had finally taken its full grip upon him. His eyes retained that same lost, hopeless look, and as if he had noticed both Brunor and the girl watching him, he turned his face away.

 

Brunor continued to stand silently, not wanting to disrupt either of the two teenagers. The Indian girl was yet again caught up with admiring Arod, and Arod seemed to have taken a liking to all this attention. The boy was just sitting there, as if all his hopes had just been crushed or something and that he had lost his will to live. For a moment, Brunor wondered what the boy’s life had been like to cause him such pain as that.

 

Several minutes passed, and nothing different occurred at the top of the staircase. At last, Brunor coughed softly, hoping to gain their attention. “Are you ready to go now?” he murmured quietly.

 

He waited patiently for the boy to struggle to his feet, though he made no attempt to aid him. The annoyed words that the bloody boy had muttered earlier beneath his breath reinforced Brunor’s suspicions that the boy hated being offered any help.

 

When at last the boy managed to stand up, Brunor began strolling through the gaping entrance, making sure that his pace wasn’t too fast so that the limping boy wouldn’t possibly be able to keep up. He wasn’t so worried about the Indian girl, whose injury was only on her arm. Several of the Umbralatronis nodded at him in greeting, before raising their eyebrows at the sight of the two teens trailing behind him and the blonde hanging limply over his shoulder. They said nothing though and continued about in their business.

 

Brunor returned their greetings with a nod of his own, but he continued on his way toward where he knew to be the infirmary. He didn’t know exactly how long the boy could hold out on his own with an injured leg like that, and he would rather not have to carry two teenagers. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t be able to carry the boy anyways, considering his height. The boy was probably as tall as Belinos himself, who was pretty tall. There was also the fact that the other Umbralatronis probably wouldn’t be very pleased to find blood splattered all over the marble flooring, despite the fact that marble flooring could easily be cleaned, or at least more easily than a carpet.

 

The infirmary was only a few dozen more meters away when Brunor caught sight of a petite brunette, probably barely taller than the Indian girl, heading toward the stairs with a jug of water in her hand. Her eyes flickered in Brunor’s direction, though she ignored him for the most part, seemingly intent on whatever job she had been given.

 

“Lauren, come over here really quick please,” Brunor called out loudly, beckoning towards the young woman.

 

Lauren glanced at him again before staring at the staircase. Sighing in exasperation, she stalked over to Brunor. She stopped right in front of him, keeping her amber eyes fixed defiantly on him and paying no attention whatsoever to the hybrids that stood behind him.

 

“Where are – “ Brunor began to ask.

 

“Hadyn, Tristen, Belinos, Emilia, Kiril, and Rhiannon?” Lauren finished, interrupting him rudely.

 

“Ye-“

 

“Hadyn and Tristen are raiding the kitchen, and Rhiannon locked herself in her room. Belinos had to go supervise everything like always,” she stated as-a-matter-of-factly before pausing, her eyes flickering back toward the staircase. “Emilia’s with Kiril,” she finished quietly.

 

Brunor sighed at the mention of Rhiannon. He didn’t want her wasting her life away drowning in grief and remorse. Personally, he wished Belinos would do something about it, but he knew his brother-in-law’s motive for allowing Rhiannon to remain locked in her room. If she stayed there, there was a higher chance that she wouldn’t end up getting killed like her mother and brother. However, what caught his attention the most were Lauren’s final words. His breath caught in his threat at the sudden change in Lauren’s tone.

 

“Is Kiril okay?” he inquired.

 

“He’s…” she drifted off, as if trying to find the right words to say. “Two of his ribs broke from the impact when he hit the ground. We don’t have to worry about that though. It’ll heal eventually. But the electric shock might have been too much for him.”

 

“Are you saying that…” Brunor stopped himself, not wanting to say the words on his mind.

 

“No,” Lauren stated defiantly. “He’ll turn out fine. We still have allies in this war, you know.”

 

Another sigh, this time one of relief, slipped from Brunor’s mouth. “Then can you take care of them too?” He inclined his head slightly toward the two hybrids behind him.

 

Lauren at last seemed to take some notice of the hybrids. Her amber eyes didn’t remain on them long though before they returned to Brunor, a mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips. “I find it slightly ironic that I’ll be taking care of the girl who hurt Kiril in the first place.”

 

“So what is that, a yes or a no?” Brunor interrupted, realizing now why Lauren had originally chosen to ignore him.

 

“Sure, I’ll take care of them,” Lauren answered, with a flourish of her hand. “But they’ll have to be sedated. I don’t want to have to sit there listening to them screaming in pain while I try to fix them up.”

 

She reached into the pocket of her jacket with her free hand and pulled out a syringe. Brunor raised an eyebrow in skepticism. “Since when did you carry needles with you?”

 

“Just now,” the brunette replied, her smile growing at the look on Brunor’s face. “I had a feeling I would need them.” She paused before saying, “No, I’m just kidding. Miranda told me to get them.”

 

She brushed past Brunor, fiddling with the syringe in her hand as she sauntered over to the pale boy and dark-skinned girl. “Now which of you wants their shot first?” She held up the syringe, flashing both of them a cold, sardonic smile.

[Skarx]

Sophia avoided looking outside as they ran around the roads so scared she was to see something coming to hit them lost like they were in traffic. When it became a bit more silent, car sound wise, she dared to look outside. They were in a forest now and they seemed to keep going deeper until she finally saw something. It was a huge mansion with a big garden in front of it. It was an amazing thing to see and she was surprised she had never heard of such a place in the area. Such a place would never go unnoticed. Then again, normal people do not have blue skin… Maybe it was something magical or something too. Like the horses.

 

When Bruenor opened the door and told them to follow the woman she waited for all the other, except the wounded, to leave before she did so. In front of her another challenge awaited… an amazing amount of stairs. She sighed and followed the group silently trying to hide with her pull, which she putted back on herself even though it was quite hot. From her hood only her sea green hair and the tip of her nose showed. She didn’t exactly why she was trying to hide so much, maybe because she didn’t want to see them look at her or simply because she didn’t feel good showing her unnatural traits to the world. It was already bad that all the other teens and Umbralatonix that had captured her knew, she didn’t feel like the world needed to know it. At least she was not the only one with quite apparent traits. When they reached some rooms and the women divided them into them she quickly went inside and took possession of the bed in the left corner.

 

Her new roommates were the redhead and Shira or something. She looked at Shira move around and bite into the bread, which from her face was probably not really good. When the said girl told her thought aloud Sophia smiled. ”Somewhat violent? Some of them would want us dead if we didn’t have an unknown use for them. How lucky we are to suddenly have our world torn into pieces like that.” She glanced at the redhead. ”I don’t know if you told me your name yet. I’m Sophia. Since we’re going to be roommate for a while we might as well know each others name.” She then left her bed and walked to the plate of not so tasty looking bread and water. The second she saw that water she decided she had best not to hope for much out of it. She poured herself a glass then went back to her bed. If she was a water faerie hybrid she must be able to move the water no? She looked at it, leaving it close to her laps and tried to make it swirl in her glass while waiting for an answer. She would go to bed right after that, she was tired.

[myahoo]

Mark silently tracked Breckin's actions as Breckin took in the room they were given. From where he sat, Mark noticed that Breckin seemed to be fascinated by the beds. The glowing boy carefully stepped away from the door and ran a hand over one of the beds. Confused, Mark tried to understand why the other boy was so captivated by the sight of the beds. However, he quickly became frustrated because the expression on Breckin's face was familiar and Mark couldn't remember where he had seen it before.

 

"A real bed...and just for me..?"

 

Mark barely caught the question, as Breckin seemed to be talking to himself, but as soon as he heard it, he knew exactly where he had seen Breckin's expression before. It was almost a mirror image of the faces of the children at the orphanage when they were presented with gifts and the tentative touch matched exactly. On the heels of that revelation, though, it dawned on Mark that if Breckin was looking at the beds like that, then the other boy had never had his own bed before. But the only way someone wouldn't have had a bed before would be if they were a street..kid......oh...So, Breckin's from the streets, huh?

 

"Er...you were on the carriage when I got there right? Did I ever catch your name?"

 

Mark nodded in response to the first question, and he shook his head in response to the second, noting that Breckin had climbed onto the bed that he had touched earlier. "Nope. Didn't say anything after everyone started piling into the cart, so...the name's Mark." He studied the other boy briefly and leaned back on his hands, before adding. "I noticed that you were pretty calm, Breckin. Most of the others ended up arguing or something like that." Mark left the implied Why didn't you? hanging in the air and waited for a response.

[Walker]

Lakshmi’s eyes widened in surprise as she eyed the needle. She choked back a nervous, hysteric laugh and tried to take one step back away from the woman wielding it like some sort of weapon. She wasn’t extremely eager to be stuck by anything sharp and pointy. The only times she’d ever been poked by a needle was for vaccinations. She’d been nervous on those occasions too, but she was even more nervous now. She’d never been sedated in her life and wasn’t too eager to attempt the experience now. ”Is that… necessary?” she asked quietly, hesitation and nervousness coloring her tone.

 

She attempted to step away from both the needle and the woman, but she was surprised when she felt something poke her gently on the side, nudging her back in the direction of the woman. She looked in confusion in the direction the nudge had come from and found herself staring directly into Carlie’s face. She yelped in surprise both because he’d managed to sneak up to her side so quietly and because his face was a little too close to hers for comfort, leering at her in a vicious, angry way, but the anger seemed somehow half-hearted, which made Lakshmi relax somewhat.

 

”Scared Barbie? Take it from an expert that needles aren’t the scary thing. The scary thing is why they have to poke you with needles in the first place. Anyways, ladies first the saying goes, right?” he said in a jeering manner, but she could tell there was no real malignancy behind it. His eyes still seemed somewhat distant and clouded. She wasn’t sure why he was saying these things, but it seemed all some sort of act. As long as he didn’t really mean it, she didn’t mind at all. She took a step back to put space between them and shrugged in response to his half-hearted prodding. He seemed content with that. All hint of anger or any other sensation drained from his face, leaving him nothing more then an empty shell again.

 

Her mind turned back to the problem at hand. She eyed the large syringe again and felt her eyes getting larger while she felt like she was getting smaller and smaller, shrinking into herself until she would just disappear. That seemed like a good idea right now, disappearing. Her mind was drifting away from the immediate problems back to older ones, like what her father had told her earlier. She had been able to prevent herself from thinking about it for quite a while because of all the distractions, but now that her mind was locked on it again, not even her blissfully naïve manner could deaden the horror of it. She’d finally realized her father was dying.

 

Her face had paled as much as Carlie’s by this point, all hint of cheerfulness wiped away. This realization made her feel more alone then ever, but funnily, this was a different sort of loneliness then the one she experienced when no one was around her. This one was there forever, and there was no hiding from it, even when others were around. Also, she felt no urge to cry either. This loneliness only made her want to drown and suffocate in it until she actually physically died from the sheer crushing force. Even thinking these thoughts was causing an uncharacteristic frown to form on her face, changing her appearance from bright like the sun to something more sinister and dark.

 

Her mind was a million miles away when she stepped closer to the woman holding the syringe. She didn’t speak, but she held out her good arm as if it was some sort of peace offering. She figured that was words enough. Now, she was actually excited by the prospect of losing herself from the dark thoughts her mind had turned to in the blackness of nothing.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

When Carlie stood by Lakshmi and cajoled her, it wasn’t out of true anger. His thoughts were still distant, frightened, fixed on that one moment that had changed him from a fiery, bull-headed boy to someone who appeared no better then the walking dead. He still was so distant from the sphere of reality, he hardly realized the pain from his injuries or the sorts of things that would usually irritate him. The only reason he reacted to Barbie’s hesitation was habit. It was worked deeply into the fabric of his mind to be bitter and troublesome, so even if he felt no genuine emotion, he still did both. It was as mechanical as eating and sleeping, something that had to be done despite the inconvenience, but as soon as his job was done, he took another step back and drifted back into his own mind, where the fear and emptiness swallowed him up again.

 

He did not stay there for long. He watched Barbie step closer to the woman, holding out her arm, but he really wasn’t realizing what he was seeing at first. It took several seconds for his mind to work out the puzzle, but when he did, a fury so explosive ripped through him that he made a lunge for Barbie right away, stopping himself just before he smashed his fist into her face. His clenched fist hovered silently in the air for a moment, poised, making the decision between smashing her face into pieces or backing down, but it was the empty look in Barbie’s eyes that echoed his own so much that made him step back. He wasn’t angry at Barbie. He was angry at himself.

 

”Are you an idiot? Are you just going to give them what they want? You’re not even hesitating. You’re doing tricks for these strangers just as if you were their dog or something. If they say jump, you say how high. Weak-minded idiot.”

 

Although he was looking at Barbie while he said it, and the words fit the context of the situation, he wasn’t really referring to her or to this point in time. He was berating himself for a variety of things such as giving in and seeking help here, and also allowing himself to become disheartened and frightened at the sight of the blood he had puked up. Hadn’t he thought over what to do if this happened again often enough? Why hadn’t he sprang into action right away? It really was a hopeless plan, but it was the only hope he had at the moment. He’d promised himself if he ever got cancer again he’d die where he was happy, home. If he stayed here, they wouldn’t give him that option. His mind was finally turning from shock and disbelief to frenzied panic. Reason had no place anymore. He couldn’t think that the dog crushing his chest caused the blood. It was as certain to him that the worst had happened as when he first heard the diagnosis from the doctor’s years ago.

 

Both ashamed and disgusted by his earlier weakness, and now fueled by his manic panic, Carlie felt like he’d do anything to get away. He sort of wished that he could shoot thunder like the girl did just so he could get all of these people out of the way who would be bound and determined to stop him, but he laughed silently to himself as he thought of what he could do. He could make mud puddles. He’d just have to make due without awesome superpowers then. He scowled at both the man and woman with genuine rage and muttered, ”I’m leaving.”

 

There was such a ring of true determination and finality to them it was hard to ignore, but they were also tinged with extreme desperation, and as much as hated to admit it, fear. Determination, fear, and desperation can be a lethal mix though. A being that feels such a combination will go to extreme lengths to get what they want, or perish in the process. At this particular moment, Carlie was determined to do just that. He took one step back, egging on the two strangers, taunting them, flouting it in their face he was going to leave. He continued to let his emotion-filled eyes rest on theirs, on the finite hope that somehow it would make them unable to react, freeze and bind them with the deepness of his need to escape. His eyes were the gaze of one driven by insanity.

 

He prepared to tear his eyes away and bolt, but now that his mind had been wrenched back from his blind emptiness, he was quite aware, if not more so then before, of the acute pain signals from his body. It both spurred on his mania while preventing him from escaping. He stood there, chest heaving and face twisted into a fierce snarl, too desperate to stay and accept help, and yet, to weak to spurn their help and get away. As he became increasingly aware of the pain, he also became increasingly aware that his stomach was becoming restless again. His panic increased even more, overcoming his pain and nausea for a millisecond so that he was able to take one more step back before the demands and strain on his body became too much. He sat on the ground before he fell, glaring openly at everyone. Barbie was watching him with eyes wide, her arm still held up dumbly, too mesmerized by his strange reactions to lower it or react in kind.

 

He flashed her an amused smile for he knew not what reason before the nausea claimed his attention again. He made no attempt to hold it back this time because he was more then certain he’d be incapable of it, but he did shut his eyes tightly so he didn’t have to see what was coming. He braced his arms against the floor while his body started heaving. He was quite aware of a mixed taste of coppery blood and stomach acid, which only made him more disgusted and frightened, speeding up the process.

 

He tried to ignore the sensation of vomiting in favor of the stabs of vicious pain the heaving in his stomach caused him. It worked. With each vicious stab, he became less aware of what he was doing in favor of the overwhelming pain. He became lost in it, so lost he was surprised when the excruciating pain and the heaving stopped. He opened his eyes cautiously, wondering why. It felt like it should have gone on forever, but when he opened his eyes and returned to reality, he soon learned why. His body was just too exhausted to continue even the action of riding itself of the blood pooling inside of it. He still felt nauseas, but he had no energy to continue. He did have the energy to stare dumbly at the red pool of blood on the floor in front of him. It reminded him of the color of a crayon he used to draw with when he was young. That was all that the blood was, he rationalized to himself, a splotch of color some kid drew with a crayola crayons. Crayola crayons seemed to come in all colors these days.

 

His panic had subsided and he had once again reverted back to his subdued disbelief and fear. He forgot any intention of getting away. He was too busy trying to rationalize the blood in front of him with strange thoughts like the one earlier, or the simple act of continuing to get enough oxygen, which was seeming to get more difficult. Each breath seemed to take a toll from him, eventually getting dangerously close to more energy then he had. He didn’t notice it, but each one of his breaths was getting more ragged and loud with every second.

 

He lifted his gaze from the floor for a moment, looking at both the man and the woman with a look of complete bewilderment and surprise. ”There’s blood on your floor. Someone should clean that up,” he muttered between two wheezing breaths.

 

………………………………………………………………………………………………

 

Lakshmi’s arm finally flopped back down to her side. She blinked and stared. That was the last thing she had been expecting.

[Odio]

Gregor found himself in a pleasant enough room. It reminded him of his hotel room. He gazed around for a moment, taking in his surroundings, hearing the click of the lock behind him. He didn't appreciate all this mystery and nonsense. He'd thought they would have everything explained to them when they arrived, but instead they were just locked in another cage.

 

He couldn't tell if he would be happier to be at the park still, but decided that it didn't much matter anymore. The sound of muffled sobbing reached his ears, and he muffled his own groans. He massaged his nose, feeling stressed and irritable. He hated the sound of crying. When did crying ever help anything?

 

He turned his brown eyes on the boy who lay curled up like a babe. He peered down his long nose with disdain, and curled his lip.

 

"So you can hear plants,"he said, callously. "Quit crying already. Shouldn't that be something to be proud of?"

 

*~*~*~

 

In the dungeon, Gordon wasn't feeling too well. He wasn't normally afraid of the dark like this, but he'd never experienced such blackness before! He found himself breathing hard, and loudly. He stumbled around, his feet making scuffing noises on the ground. He had his arms stretched out in front of him, and he could barely make out their pale glow in the darkness.

"Hello?" he called out. "Hey, man, where'd you go?" He felt a bite of shame at the shrillness of his voice. He had no idea why he'd been led down here, he thought he'd been a nice guy and all. What did they have against him? He felt the wall, and it was cold and slimy, and he jerked his hand back. He imagined roaches and spiders and rats were crawling all around him, and he found himself hearing scuttling and squeaking. He squeezed his eyes closed and mad ehimself admit that they were just imaginings.

 

Fumbling around in the dark, he stumbled against something hard on the ground. "Whoa!" he cried, and fell onto the dirty dank floor. He softness beneath him on the floor. He picked something up. A feather? He realized he must have tripped over one of the unconcious girls. "Arrrgh!" he exclaimed. His teeth were gritted, he was fuming. He had no idea why he was being thrown in a dungeon, and he had no idea why he'd changed this morning, and he just wanted to go back to his nice comfortable life at home! He felt the cold air around him growing colder, and his arms pricked with goosebumps. A shiver ran down his spine, but he noticed that he didn't seem to mind the cold. Again, his mind drifted back to the dream he'd had the night before, and the cruel laughter, and that one mysterious snowflake.

Edited April 22, 2010 by Odio

[lilyice]

“I’m Danni,” the other girl had said, taking her seat on the bed next to Kathy’s. She looked Kathy straight in the eyes, and the blonde was momentarily mesmerized by the solemnity and the beautiful grey specks among her irises. In that moment, the teen decided that she liked her – as well as she could like any stranger she’d just met, anyways. Straight to the point, no nonsense, no shyness; maybe they could get along after all. Now that wasn’t so hard, was it? You should make more friends. A familiar voice popped up in Kathy’s head, reprimanding her. The annoyed teen squeezed her eyes shut. Despite that, a corner of her mouth lifted in a slightly silly grin. She didn’t care if she was insane, but she thought she could sometimes hear her mother’s voice, speaking to her, like she would when she was alive. She knew for a fact that it was probably just her own conscience, but it comforted Kathy to think that she could still ‘hear’ her mother.

 

Giving a nod to Danni for acknowledgement, Kathy let her body free fall onto the bed with a dull thud, ruffling the carefully-made sheets. She spread her arms out on both sides and stared up to the ceiling. It may not have been the most comfortable bed in the world, but it was certainly better than nothing.

 

A growl from her stomach reminded her that she hasn’t eaten since the morning. All day long, Kathy had been browsing through hair salons and drug stores for appropriate hair dye, and perhaps a haircut. Driven by her anxiety, Kathy ignored lunch and didn’t even buy anything to eat. Now looking over to the bread placed on the nightstand, the blonde found it more appetizing to look at than it was before. Hesitantly, she propelled her body towards the food, and reached forward to take a baguette, taking a bite. It was hard and slightly stale, and the teen scrunched up her nose in distaste once more. Nevertheless, it was food. It would be enough to satisfy her hunger for now.

 

Rolling back into a comfortable position, Kathy stared out blankly as she munched on the bread. Wondering what time it was, she took out her cell phone. However, all that came up was a black screen. Groaning, the girl realized that they probably had no signal wherever the place was. And without a window or watch, she had no way to determine the time. She considered asking Danni, but didn’t want to disturb the silence. Lapsing into her thoughts, Kathy stayed silent and closed her eyes.

[Elsendor]

[[MY FIRST POST!!!!!!! wow, i did a better job of making this brief than i thought i would. -tempted to make it longer- Someone slap me very very hard if there are any problems with this. ~Nessie]]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

You will know true beauty when you see it, because there is a fine line, if any at all, between beauty and terror.24th of June, 2010

The dungeon of Aileach Estate

 

“Who did this to you, Concord?” The social worker’s face was gentle and compassionate as she traced the lines on his palm. Sweet. Coaxing. Motherly, almost. Tears sprang to his eyes and the whole story leaped to his throat, clawing for release. Father--razorschainspaindarknesslonelinessdespairfear—his mind flooded with images and words and he swallowed nervously. He had only to open his mouth and start talking… and it would all come tumbling out, no longer weighing like lead on his young heart. Just name the man who’d made his life naught but agony for three years, and it might all be over. He opened his mouth to say those words—

 

“Concord, sweetie, you didn’t do that to yourself, did you? You haven’t been drinking, or smoking, or using drugs, have you? Children like you often do terrible things to themselves when they’re drunk or high.” No. Ma was gone. There was no one left to trust. His mouth clamped shut, and with a little sob he tried to pull away, but to no avail. Her manicured fingers pressed anxiously into his palm, the nails painted bright red, like blood. He stared dumbly at them for a moment, nausea rising in the bottom of his stomach.

 

“If you’ve been using drugs, Concord, it’s going to have to stop. We can’t have you hurting yourself like this.” Silently he pulled away, tugging the glove back on and fastening the wrist brace back over it. His throat loosened, the years of pain and hurt sinking back into the void where it had lain hidden for so long. There it would lie for years to come.

 

[[since Brunor was carrying Varianne and the other Umbra was carrying Alina, I’m assuming Brunor would have Concord now. <.< Since I decided the best way to squeeze some past events in would be though good ol’ knocked-out-ness]]

 

The pale teen shifted slightly in his sleep, clearly irritating his captor, who hoisted him higher onto his shoulder with a grunt. Unconscious to his surroundings, he gave no response to the steadily darker, colder conditions; save that the bright flush of his cheeks and forehead began slowly to recede.

 

”It’s just a tattoo, sir.”

 

“Don’t try to hoodwink me, boy. That insect ain’t tattooed, and I should know. I’ve inked more customers than the days you’ve seen in your lifetime, enough to know the difference between an inking and a scar. Who the hell did this pretty piece of work to your face?”

 

He froze, staring for a moment before he clamped his mouth shut and slammed the money on the counter. “A very talented artist, at a very high price.” The rest was his own business. “I want it coloured, blue and white, shaded so your own teacher wouldn’t know it from a tattoo.” But he would. He knew the scar for what it was, and he hated it. You couldn’t very well hide a scar that covered half your face, even if it was more beautiful than many artists’ work. You couldn’t hide it any more than you could hide the bad memories from yourself.

 

His black hair was damp with sweat, now cold. A soft moan escaped his dry, fevered lips as his captor laid him, not unkindly, on the floor of the dungeon. The receding footsteps fell on unhearing ears as he continued to walk in memory.

 

“Are you alright?” A young woman bent down to help him up, but paused and hesitated as her eyes chanced upon his face. He turned away, hastily scrambling to his feet and pulling his hood back up to hide his features in its shadow. I’m fine, ma’am. An older lady nearby looked at him sharply, sniffed, and turned away. As if I’m some crazy person… Maybe he was. Mumbling something about not riding trains often, he retreated towards the restroom in the back of the coach. But… an odd twinge of unease turned him around to face the inquirer. He caught just a glimpse of her face as she turned and hurried off the train. She was beautiful, with pale, porcelain skin and soft blue-dyed hair that looked almost natural, but what made him catch his breath was her eyes. They were an icy shade of blue, almost white, so that he couldn’t read any expression in their frozen pools. He could have sworn those eyes were… glowing. No sooner had he noticed than she was gone.

 

The dream shifted, and then it was him who looked strange. He stared at his reflection, horrified. His eyes! Mother used to croon over his green eyes, softly singing of Ireland and its rolling green hills, telling him legends of faeries and kidnapped maidens and grotesque monsters, and then returning at last to his “expressive pools of wonder.” She’d told him always to be proud of the Irish green. But now….they were—blue! The same cobalt shade streaked his black hair, blending as naturally with the jet-coloured strands as if he’d been born that way. And his skin—once a soft shade of “gold-sheened mocha and bronze,” where his pale scars stood out like lightning—it was pale as a full European's, paler even, like he’d never seen the sun in his life. Like his father’s…

 

The piercing shriek that escaped tortured lips as blood streaked down the length of the girl’s black hair —he couldn’t suppress the horrified gasp that escaped him and alerted all three figures to his presence. When it was the woman—snapping and curling her whip—who stepped towards him, he followed the undignified example of the green-haired child he’d glimpsed and scampered up a tree. What possessed him to try something so absurd rather than run, he wasn’t sure. Maybe it was because his calf was screaming in pain and strangely hot, though it had stopped bleeding. All he knew was the pain that flared in his wrists, with such sudden intensity that he lost his hold and careened downwards. As he hit the ground light flashed through his vision—the last thing he saw was the woman flinching momentarily as he blacked out.

 

[[quick clarification: he cut himself badly somewhere in Forest Park before he saw the others (by being an idiot) , and hasn’t had a tetanus shot since he was eleven. Hence the fever.]]

 

As if she’d seen the flash that he assumed was part of hitting your head and getting knocked out. It was still as dark as if his eyes were closed, but he was suddenly awake and aware that he was. He sat up, waving a hand at his surroundings as he struggled to get his bearings—and froze, suddenly alert as the last remnants of unconsciousness fell in trembling sheets from his mind. The tendrils of silver inlaid in the back of his left hand were reflective, but that wouldn’t explain the soft glow that now fell on them. There was no light source here—wherever here was—to make them glow like that. In fact… the glow seemed to be coming from his hand. It wasn’t significant enough to light up his surroundings, though. He smiled wryly in spite of himself; Spitz must have cheated himself, for once. It had been several hours since his last shot of heroin, probably more if he’d been out for very long, and here he was still having aftereffects. Speaking of which—he dug into his pockets with a sudden rush of panic. His hand fell upon a small, cylindrical form that rattled slightly, assuring him that a few tablets still remained. He’d be out soon, and then he’d need to buy more—it was so hard to save when so much went into trying to stay high more often than low.

 

At last his thoughts turned to his situation. Where was he? He’d seen a girl mercilessly murdered? Had they killed her? Who were they? Had they brought him here, and where was here? Suddenly overwhelmed and terrified, he drew his knees up to his chest, whimpering softly. Once again he was helpless in the dark, unaware of how long it had been and how long it would be. Had his father somehow found him? A silent tear rolled down his face as he traced the Gaelic runes on his hand over and over. Don’t make me go back there… don’t make me go back there. If his father had caught him again, he’d never be able to get hold of his lifelines again. Better to save them… until the worst… Fingering the small container that held the last tablets of ecstasy, he finally became aware of another person moving about in the darkness. Shortly after there was a cry and a thump. “Who’s there?” he demanded, sounding braver than he felt. He immediately shrank, a sinking feeling growing in his chest. If it was his father he’d kill him for speaking like that. He’d kill him twice for changing the colour of his skin and eyes—though he hadn’t had anything to do with that.

 

You only wish he’d slay you. Just like that.

 

Leave me alooooone…

 

“I’m sorry—so sorry—” he managed to stammer as he scooted backwards—across who-knows-what filth—until he reached a wall, cold and unyielding… and strangely comforting. The cold seeped into his bones, banishing the last of the fever from his bloodied head and bringing some rationality into his terror. A part of that strange dream rushed back to him.

 

Cold… bitter cold, yet pleasant, settled over his limbs, giving him a calm he’d never felt before. And then it was as if a curtain was lifted, taking the darkness with it and revealing a world like his own—and yet not. The towering penthouse apartments and skyscrapers were like ice, their glass—or ice?—windows shot through with an unearthly coloured light that bathed the city below. Forest Park stood frozen in time, snowy white and bedecked with crystals. The ponds and reservoirs were like glossy mirrors, and tiny diamond daggers dangled where leaves would once have sprouted. Every blade of grass was like glass, sharp and fragile. Every flower was frosted in silver. Under the Northern Lights, no longer confined to the North, the frozen world shone with an ethereal light. All was silent, all was peace.

Edited November 28, 2011 by Elsendor

[Kira1]

Danni saw Kathy nod in acknowledgment before the other girl laid back onto the bed with a soft thud. At first she just laid there, and Danni looked around the room some more, but there wasn't much to see. Her attention was then brought back to Kathy when the others' stomach growled and she sat up to grab some of the food on the nightstand. Judging by her expression though, the bread wasn't all that good. Danni looked at the food, and wondered if she should eat some. She wasn't terribly hungry, but it never hurt just to eat something to keep your energy up. Though, maybe Kathy didn't like that kind of food and that's why she made that face.

 

"How's the food?" Danni asked her, reaching for the cell phone in her pocket to check it when she saw Kathy look to hers. Nothing but a black screen so it seemed there was no signal wherever they were. Well, it was a good thing she contacted her parents before hand, otherwise they might be calling anyone that might know where she is, and they would probably call the cops. She hoped her parents wouldn't worry too much about her.

 

She waited for Kathy's response about the food, deciding she'll just have to wait to get those answers she wanted. Danni didn't have much in the way of patience, but at this point there wasn't anything she could do. They were locked in the room and it was just the two of them. Though, as Danni thought about how they could escape, she wondered if she would get any powers like that one girl with electricity from before.

Edited April 26, 2010 by Kira1

[Mangaholic]

The roaring of the motorcycle as it came to life did nothing to disrupt that horrible memory that Rhiannon was still lost in, a memory that no one but herself could pull her out of, at least not completely. Her tears had already dried, and she was no longer shivering as she had done by the edge of that forest, but she remained dolefully silent upon the back of Hadyn’s motorcycle; silent as some lovely rose, wilting, not from lack of water, but from the constant torment of rain and the constant torment of life. Yes, that was what she was: a rose, beaten and battered by the merciless sun and the relentless storm. She had not the carefree beauty of the other teens of her age- not the innocence that allowed her to laugh freely at every comical sight that met her eyes, nor the naiveté to prance about as if there wasn’t a care in the world, aside from the petty drama that took place at school. A stern, forbidding beauty was hers, like the towering majesty of a pine, which has born witness to countless battles and countless deaths around its roots, and seen countless numbers of its kind fall, watering the earth with crimson-red sap. Like the pines, she stood in silent, but agonizing ritual as everything she loved and cared for was cut down, one by one.

 

Hadyn kept his eyes on the road and on Tristen, who drove a distance ahead of them, swerving skillfully through the traffic, which could not see them through their glamour. The nineteen-year old boy made no attempt to strike up a futile conversation with Rhiannon, instead allowing the monotonous drone of traffic to fill the silent gap in the conversation that didn’t exist there. The excessive optimism that he had stored up within himself had evaporated – turned to vapor and rain by the pain that burned in his heart – and all that was left now was some hollow shell, filled to the brim with dread and hopelessness. It was strange how one’s emotions and moods could be subject to such frightening change. At that moment in time, Hadyn and Rhiannon were like two children drowning in the same pool of grief and yet reluctant or unable to find the words or the will to pull each other out before they were forever lost in that murky water.

 

It wasn’t until the pair of motorcycles, with its trio of Umbralatronis, had long since left behind the chaotic traffic of New York City and driven more deeply into the empty highways of the mainland state of New York that Rhiannon remembered where she was, and that some life managed to return to the girl. Perhaps it was the calming presence of the thick forests lining both sides of the road that pulled her back to her senses, or just the fact that she was tired of being a useless burden that couldn’t even save the ones she loved, but at least now, she was able to take her mind off of the deaths of her brother, her mother, and everyone else whom she had cared so much for. Now, the only thing she was waiting for was to pass the boundary between the mundane world and what was hidden, because then, she would know that she was nearly home. However, time always seems to be drawn-out and longer when one is eagerly awaiting something, and to Rhiannon, it seemed as if a decade had flown by before Hadyn and Tristen swerved off of the highway and onto some invisible trail that meandered tortuously through the thicket of trees and tangle of undergrowth. The trees flew by at such a speed that it all seemed to be a blur of dull brown and dark green, and it was a wonder that one of the motorcycles, if not both, had not crashed into some massive tree and burst into flames. In fact, the three Umbralatronis seemed totally confident in that they could dodge every obstacle that lay in their path, since they were in their own territory now, but still, one could not help but jump in wild apprehension each time the motorcycles made a perilously close call.

 

After some time, the motorcycles slowed to a speed so that one could clearly make out each limb and trunk instead of the previous mess of colors, and then they came to a screeching halt before two massive, black gates that loomed high above their heads. On both sides towered an intricate pillar of stone, with images of terrifying creatures and runes deeply engraved in the marble rock. Gazing down from these two pillars were a pair of gargoyles, their mouths twisted in a frozen snarl, or at least until night would fall and release them from their binds. Their stony, gray wings were stretched wide above their backs, and the creatures looked as if they were just dying to dive down and rip the new arrivals to shreds, but luckily, they were frozen in stone until night would grant them freedom.

 

The gates opened on their accord, filling the air with a horribly raucous screech, but it did not disturb the Umbralatronis one bit. To them, the ear-splitting sound meant home. The two motorcycles roared to life once again, before speeding through the gaping gates onto a dirt trail that continued to weave through dense trees. The gates closed behind them, strangely silent compared to that terribly harsh grating sound earlier, and locked the mundane world out of its borders.

 

More trees flew by again, though at a slower speed this time, before Rhiannon caught sight of an enormous mansion looming before them, amidst a large clearing. It was a gorgeous place, with a seemingly medieval air about it. The mansion was painted an ivory-white color, with massive French windows and balconies, but the black roof, intricately designed with some sort of European architecture, was so huge that at first glance, the entire mansion seemed black. Tall Leylandii trees grew farther off, bordering both sides of the mansion, and at their roots grew flowers of all sorts- bluebells, foxgloves, primroses, and countless others. A great, green lawn lay stretched out before the elegant, elaborate house.

 

Before Hadyn’s motorcycle had even come to a complete stop before the massive stone staircase that led up to the great house, Rhiannon had already leapt off of the moving vehicle and began bounding nimbly up the steps. She could hear Hadyn and Tristen calling her back, but she paid them no heed.

 

The doors that served as entrance into the grand mansion were proportionate to the rest of the place, meaning, in simpler words, that they were enormous, and yet Rhiannon opened them almost effortlessly. Once inside her home, she immediately made her way to her room, though first, she was greeted by a rain of questions, both curious and anxious.

 

“Lady Rhiannon, you’re back! Where have you been? Your father was looking all over for you. You worried him sick.”

 

“Oh, dear Rhiannon, you’re so pale and your eyes so red! Have you been crying again?”

 

“Where’s Hadyn, Miss Rhiannon? Is he not with you?”

 

“There’s very fine-tasting soup, Mademoiselle Rhiannon, if you would like some. Would you?”

 

She ignored most of them, answering with only a nod or a shake of the head whenever necessary, but always maintaining her stony face. Once she reached the flight of stairs that would eventually lead her to her bedroom, she was no longer pelted by the rain, as everyone seemed to have gotten the message that she wished to be left alone, yet again. It wasn’t until she had reached the top of those stairs that the entrance doors burst open once more to reveal a stricken Hadyn and a stricken Tristen. She didn’t have to look to know that it was them; almost instantly, the entire building echoed with their deafening calls.

 

“Rhiannon! Turn around and get back down here!”

 

”Don’t even think about locking yourself up again!”

 

As expected, Rhiannon ignored them both. For all their speed, Hadyn and Tristen could not reach the ebony-haired girl before she reached her bedroom door. She shut the door and locked it just as the two boys reached the bottom, or beginning, of the flight of stairs to the second floor, before turning on the lights and flitting to the window to draw the curtains. She wasn’t in the cheerful mood to allow the cheery sun within her chamber; artificial lighting would do for today. She settled down on her bed, gazing into the large mirror in front of her to see her tear-streaked face and red eyes gazing solemnly back.

 

It wasn’t long before her bedroom door was pummeled by furious knocking, but it stood strong and did not allow the disturbers through. Rhiannon made no move to open the door. She could hear Hadyn and Tristen simultaneously yelling:

 

”Don’t lock yourself in again, Ree! I just managed to get you out this morning. It’s unhealthy to hole yourself up in your room for an entire day!”

 

“Rhiannon, at least get yourself some food and water before you stay in there for another 24 hours! “

 

Rhiannon ignored their calls and pleas, and made no answer whatsoever. Anything she said would just encourage them to continue trying. Eventually, the rapping at the door began to weaken as the two young men outside wearied of their vain attempts, and then, they just stopped. Just as Rhiannon heaved a sigh of relief however, there was a tremendous slam against the door that could have easily shattered windows, and probably would’ve bust through the door had it not been made of iron.

 

“Ree, if I die of depression because you won’t open the door, I’m gonna come back and haunt you day and night.”

 

The words were meant to be amusing, but Rhiannon didn’t crack a smile, nor did she answer in any way. She couldn’t bear to watch someone else she loved and cared about die, especially if it was her fault again. With that line of thought, she should have opened the door and apologized to the two boys for being so cold and unfeeling, but she didn’t. She stayed on her bed, as silent as a nightingale that had lost the will to sing, and waited until at last, weary sighs sounded from outside her room and the patter of footsteps moving distantly away alerted her that Hadyn and Tristen had given up. A tiny, painful flower of relief blossomed within her, rimmed with the dangerous remorse that she had driven away the two people left who, perhaps, cared for her the most, aside from her father and her uncle. Everyone else was dead, stolen away by the spite and sadism of the cruel, dark world. Was it fair, that the world had the right to do so? To slowly tear a person’s heart apart little by little until all that was left was the burning, horrid wish to die? If so, who gave it that right, to take pleasure in the cruelty and malice spread across the lamentable face of the Earth?

 

Rhiannon sat, still and quiet as some empty highway meandering through an endless sea of sand and dust, upon the edge of her queen-sized bed, musing silently over the thought of such a bleak and weary existence, in which storms of hatred had swallowed up the sun, and to look out the window was to look at a world flooded by the tears of the heavens and the tears of the miserable survivors. Perhaps, that world was inevitable. Perhaps, it was already waiting, somewhere beyond the horizon, or perhaps it was standing behind everyone, laughing at how foolish we were for having hope for a better future, one that was never possible. Rhiannon could already see that cruel, dark world; it flooded her mind day and night, and sleep could not chase from her the visions of death and blood and corpses laid strewn across a cold and barren land, visions that haunted her with each passing breath. They came worse when she was alone, when there was no one to distract her from such thoughts. For a moment, she had the slightest urge to burst out of her room and find company, any company, that would save her from the poisonous thoughts that gnawed at her mind, but she fought it down with pure stubbornness. She had no wish to be in the company of others and spoil their mood with her own pessimism and ill-will.

 

Who knew how long she sat there, unmoving like a marble statue of Aphrodite? Her dark brown eyes had glazed over, giving her the strange appearance of someone who was lost in mind and soul. Her lips were parted only slightly and quivered, the only sign that she was alive. It took great observation to notice the rhythmic rise and fall of her breast with each silent intake of air. On the exterior was complete stillness, one that could not be described to be tranquil and calm, for it was far from it, but could also not be called despairing and anguished. On the exterior, she truly seemed to be a statue, with her beautiful, pale face completely devoid of any emotion whatsoever. There was no anguish, no pain, no happiness, no joy. It was a mask, lacking completely expression of any sort. She seemed to be even colder than a statue. In the interior, however, roared an angry, chaotic sea, complete with a whirlpool of devastating emotions. Anger pummeled the coastal rocks and shelves; grief colored the bleak, stormy sky; and remorse thundered and lit the dark air with fiery pain.

 

She just couldn’t keep the images – the horrible, horrible images – out of her head. They wouldn’t stop haunting her, and with nothing to distract her from her own memories, she continued to relive those terrible events. The horror and anguish came back to her fresh as a new dawn, always. Why couldn’t she remember the happier moments of her life? Why did she always have to recall the sight of her mother’s gruesome corpse and the sight of her brother, cold and dead upon the stony, heartless ground? When she could rid her mind of the agonizing memories, they were immediately replaced by visions of death and despair.

 

She needed to do something, anything to relieve her desire to escape the horrific images of calamity that she saw everywhere. Slipping off her bed, she walked noiselessly to the light switch and turned off the lights, so that the only remaining light source was the lamp that made its place on the nightstand beside her bed. After quickly changing into some random t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, she opened a drawer in the nightstand, revealing two or three books stacked atop one another. Of these, she pulled an old one with a black binding out. She shut the drawer and returned to her place on the bed.

 

The lighting may have been dim, but it was bright enough to clearly make out each of the words. Upon the black cover were intricate, golden words, written in some fancy cursive. It was a simple cover, lacking any adornment with the exception of the equally simple title: Scelus Orsa.

 

Rhiannon flipped through the pages in a breeze, unsure of where to start, as she had planned it only to be a form of distraction for her. In the end, she allowed the book to fall open on any random page and began reading at the beginning of some random paragraph. The words were as followed:

 

“And, chaos in mind and soul, forever tormented by wrath and the undying lust for revenge, he escaped into the cold, twisted forest, where darkness engulfed him. There, he hid, feeding his rage, letting it grow into some foul beast that would, in time, return to wreak havoc upon the world. There, he contemplated and planned his vengeance, one that would forever leave its scorching mark upon the land. There was no wish to return to the folk of his mother – he had already forsaken them. There was no longer the wish to join the folk of his father – it was for them that his rage grew for most. There was now only the wish to have revenge upon the world, to wipe out everything, and to watch it all burn to ashes in the fires of his hatred.

 

News of his betrayal had already spread. They, both of his brethren as well as many others, were all frantically searching for him, for fear of what he was planning to do. Yet, somehow, he managed to keep to shadows and to stay out of sight, as he himself searched for the – “

 

Rhiannon didn’t finish the sentence. In a flash, she shut the book with a slam, but, resisting the urge to fling it across the room, she simply placed it beside the lamp. The passage she had just read terrified her. Of all the ones she could have flipped to, why that one? Was it a sign? If so, it was a horrible one. She knew that story, that little part of history that all the Umbralatronis learned in their studies, and she had no desire to read the rest of it once more, at least not at this moment. Stop freaking out, Rhiannon, she mentally told herself, It was just some sick coincidence. You’re over thinking things. It’s just that you’re tired, hungry, and thirsty. Some sleep will probably do you a bit of good.

 

There was doubt in her mind as she reached over and turned the lamp off. Immediately, darkness swooped into the room and perched upon the mirror, watching Rhiannon as she lay there uneasily. Sleep usually brought to her not peace, but nightmares of death and blood. There was no escape route for her to flee from the visions, as Phobetor did not allow for that. However, tonight, surprisingly, he did, and after some time, the black-haired girl drifted off into a light, dreamless slumber.

 

As midnight neared its place on the clock, Rhiannon’s eyes flew open, as if something invisible and unknown had forced her awake. If there had been such a thing, it had left her wide awake and slipped back into some dark corner of the room. Rhiannon jolted upright, feeling strange fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins, though she knew not what it was for. Despite her dreamless sleep, she had awoken in cold sweat, with a viciously pounding heart in her chest. Reaching to her left, where the lamp was, she hastily turned it on, strangely desperate to chase the darkness from her room. It wasn’t like her to do so, as she had never been one to be terrified of the dark and the night, but there was a bewildering forebodingness that forced her to.

 

The dim, yellow light of the lamp threw shadows about the room – ominous, misshapen ones – and they sprawled across the floor and furniture like the disfigured silhouettes of some hideous beasts. Some shuddered and convulsed; others seemed to stretch their mutilated limbs toward the girl, frozen in shock upon her bed, as if to pull her down into the shadows with them. They crept toward her, inch by inch, their shapeless jaws gaping wide in mute shrieks of agony.

 

As the ground was taken by the shadowy creatures, the walls were taken by blood. They were painted with blood, like deep crimson roses upon a snowy white canvas. Bloody smears were raked across the walls. Beads of blood dripped silently, making their slow descent toward the ground. It was as if the tormented, shadowy beasts had left a trail of blood as they slowly crept toward their prey, writhing in their silent, terrible anguish. There was blood and darkness everywhere, and all the lamp had done was merely to lend a hand to the horrors of Rhiannon’s room.

 

Yet, the abhorrence and dread that was painted upon Rhiannon’s suddenly ashen face was not for such horrors. It was not for them that her beautiful, dark eyes were wide with disbelief nor that a gasp of shock and dismay had escaped from her parted lips. In fact, Rhiannon paid no heed to them at all, as if she had not even noticed the disturbing, new features that had found their way into her bedroom. Her eyes were, instead, fixed upon what was before her, and what had taken her breath away. All of her attention belonged to one thing, one thing that brought more fear, more pain, and more despair to her shattered heart than the shadows of the dead and the blood of the world.

 

It was the mirror.

 

Yes, it was the mirror that held all of Rhiannon’s attention; it was the mirror that possessed such horrors that the terrifying shadows and bloodied walls seemed to be nothing more than child’s play; it was the mirror that had awakened Rhiannon to a living nightmare. But what was it, exactly, about the mirror that was so terrifying? The answer to that question was the single word that the young woman, frozen in shock upon her bed, had uttered:

 

“Branwen!”

 

By now, the reader must have already guessed that the reflection trapped within the mirror was not of Rhiannon herself, as it should have been, but of another young woman, one even lovelier in appearance than Rhiannon. There was an undeniable hint of cruelty and amusement upon the woman’s scarlet lips and within her raven-black eyes, and a mocking sneer worked at the corners of her mouth as she gazed into the face of a rather horrified Rhiannon. The sneer did nothing to mar the woman’s inhuman beauty; in fact, it seemed only to have enhanced it, as if her kind had been born with and made beautiful by their cruelty and sadism. Raising a hand slowly toward the mirror and toward Rhiannon, the black-haired woman pressed her nail, or rather talon, for that was what it truly appeared to be, and began scraping at the surface of the glass, writing some invisible message perhaps, or simply just to annoy the young girl on the other side.

 

At the movement of the woman’s hand, Rhiannon snapped out of her astonishment and horror, and the expressions upon her pallid face were immediately replaced by pure hatred and loathing. She sat up straighter and more erect, staring defiantly into the other woman’s jet black eyes, while forcing herself not to flinch. ”You monster, what is it that you want here now? Have you nothing more left to do that you must resort to pestering me by showing that wretched face of yours in this here room? Go away, before you break the mirror with your own horridness.”

 

The woman, the one within the mirror, paused, and an amused smile lit up her cold, defined features. “Oh come now, dear Rhiannon,” she purred, pretending to sound hurt at the obvious anger and revulsion in the younger girl’s voice. Rhiannon could tell that the woman was unfazed by her meaningless insults; in fact, she was pretty sure that the woman had detected the fear in her voice, the fear that she could not completely hide, and now was just making a mockery of it. Yup, there was no doubt that the fair raven-haired woman in the mirror knew that Rhiannon was freaking out horribly inside, and that her mask of fury and defiance, her bravado, would soon crack to reveal her terror and panic. “Stop acting like you’re not useless and helpless, and stop venting your anger on people who don’t deserve it. Why let such hate and rage mar that pretty face of yours? Don’t blame their deaths on me; you’re the one who let them die in the first place.”

 

Rhiannon’s eyes flashed, and this time, her fear truly did give way to the wave of rage roaring violently within her. ”I swear I’ll kill you the next time I see you. Don’t you ever dare say that you didn’t kill them! I saw you with my own two eyes!”

 

The room rang with terrifying laughter at the words. “Oh dear me,” the woman in the mirror smiled, amused, wiping at an invisible tear in her eye, “I’d love to see you try again, like you did last time.” She paused, tapping a finger on the side of her cheek as if in thought. “Who’s going to die in your next attempt? Hadyn?”

 

Just as the convulsing shadows reached Rhiannon’s bed, Rhiannon, in all her wrath and fury, flung Scelus Orsa at the woman. As soon as the black book hit the surface of the mirror, the mirror shattered, as well as the other illusions around Rhiannon, and a vibrant cascade of glass streamed down upon the ivory-colored cabinet, smashing the many perfume bottles that made their place on the vanity table. The perfume streamed from the table down to the floor in an angry rush, mingling with the dazzling shards of glass along the way, and the room was filled with its nauseous aroma. Alone, the perfume would have smelled absolutely divine, but mixed in with so many other perfumes, it unleashed a devastating odor that would have given you the worse headache in the world.

 

Rhiannon’s head was ringing, though she wasn’t certain if her headache was a result of the suffocating aromas or what she had just seen. She gazed in muted disbelief at the wooden backboard of the mirror, now completely devoid of the actual mirror, but her mind was still roaring with absolute terror and apprehension. Hadyn? Is she going to kill Hadyn next? Is that why she came? To gloat? No, he can’t be dead. He can’t be. Her hands began shaking uncontrollably at the thought. He’s not my blood. Why must she go after him first?! Damn it, why can’t she just kill me and be done with it? The sight of Hadyn, lifeless on the ground, filled her eyes, and she clutched her head, shaking it in denial, her mouth open in a silent scream. And then the sight of everyone else, slowly ripped from her, tearing out what remained of her broken heart.

 

A frenzy of knocks erupted at the door, accompanied by a boy’s frantic voice. ”Rhiannon! Open the door now! Open up! You have to come out here now! Open! Oh God, please don’t tell me they got to her already. They can’t have.”

 

Rhiannon raised her head slowly, staring at the iron door with a lost expression on her face. Who was that at the door? What did he want to bother her with now? She didn’t move, pondering over whether or not to answer the door. Whoever it was knew her name, but she couldn’t tell who it was. If she didn’t answer, the person would probably go away and leave her be. The voice continued on persistently though, and the pounding at the door changed into furious kicks.

 

“Damn it! Open up! I swear to God if she’s not safe, I’ll f***ing hunt down every single damn demon in this f***ing world.” The pounding and kicking weakened, as if the boy at the door had lost his will to continue. The panic and anger in his voice was replaced by something completely different. Defeat. Utter defeat. “Damn it God, please don’t take her away from me too. Please. She’s the only thing I have left now. The only thing I have left in this cold, dead world.”

 

And he fell to weeping outside Rhiannon’s chamber door.

 

The heartbroken sobs jolted Rhiannon back to her senses, and she rose from the bed, taking an uncertain step toward the door. This voice! I know this voice! But whose? Her brows furrowed as she tried to rid her ears of the annoying buzzing sound in an attempt to recognize the voice of the person outside. It came to her at last. Hadyn! She felt a tremendous wave of relief sweep over her, and her heart felt lighter. He’s still alive, thank the heavens. But - She paused in her thoughts, though her feet continued to move toward the door, careful to avoid the shards of glass spread like dust on the floor. He’s crying? That’s not like him at all.

 

She stumbled to the iron door, where she could hear the weeping continue, and she shook her head incredulously as she opened the door.

 

“Oh Ree! You opened the door,” Hadyn exclaimed in such a surprised tone that it seemed that he was merely shocked to see that Rhiannon had bothered to open the door and not that she was still alive. There was no sign that he had been crying at all.

 

Rhiannon froze rigidly, her dark eyes widened in horror, and what little blood that had returned to her face drained all away, leaving her literally as white as sheet. She didn’t hear Hadyn’s astonished greeting; all that could be distinguished in her ears was her own mute screaming, which refused to leave her mouth. She felt almost like swooning, but she remained on her feet, her eyes still fixed on the ghastly sight before her.

 

He was covered in blood – bright, red blood – from head to toe, and she could clearly see the loathsome gashes all over him. It was from these horrible wounds that the blood poured from, like thick, scarlet torrents of water. It seemed as if Hadyn had been torn to shreds by some vicious creature, and if Rhiannon hadn’t been so horrified, she would’ve wondered how Hadyn had even managed to make it to her door. It was his face, though, that filled Rhiannon with the most dread. There was deep cut on his left cheek, but it was nothing compared to what had become of the right side of his face. Blood had spilled all over his cheek; blood all over his face. Blood was spilling – no, rushing – in a vicious torrent of bright crimson, emanating from the hollow, empty socket where his eye used to be. Where his eye used to be before some cruel, wicked talon had torn it out.

 

“Ree, are you okay?” asked Hadyn, concern coloring his tone. ”You don’t look so well.”

 

Rhiannon’s eyes refocused, and to her utter relief and surprise, Hadyn stood before her, unmarred by any of the gruesome wounds she had seen him earlier with. She wobbled on her heels, hit by a wave of nausea, and she felt him place a hand on her shoulder, steadying her.

 

“Ree, are you okay?” he repeated, this time more slowly.

 

Rhiannon shook her head, trying to clear it of the headache that was building up. ”I’m just - ” She paused, trying to think of something to say. She most certainly wasn’t going to tell Hadyn anything that had happened to her recently. ”Just hungry, I guess.”

 

“I see,” replied Hadyn, and Rhiannon could tell he didn’t believe her. ”That’s why I brought you some food.” He stooped down and picked up a sandwich, on a plate of course, and a glass of orange juice from beside the doorway. ”Sorry I couldn’t bring you something better. Matilde made soup, but Tristen and I sort of ate it all. It was really good though. Maybe if you hadn’t locked yourself up like we told you not to, you could have gotten some yourself.”

 

At the sight of food, Rhiannon realized just how hungry she was. After all, she hadn’t eaten since the morning of Midsummer’s Eve, and that had only been a meager meal anyway. She gratefully took both, ignoring Hadyn’s last teasing statement about leaving her no soup. Before she could bring the glass to her parched lips though, Hadyn spoke again, in a quieter, more serious tone.

 

“Seriously now, are you okay? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

 

“I’m fine,” she answered impatiently, before taking a quick swig from the cup. ”I told you, I’m just hungry.”

 

“That’s not it. Tell me the truth, Rhiannon.” He hesitated, as if wondering if he should say what he had in mind. ”Just before whatever it was broke, I - I heard you talking to someone.” The last part was finished in a rush. ”So, tell me what’s going on, okay? I’m your friend. I have a right to know what’s wrong with you.”

 

Rhiannon felt a pang of terror in her heart. He heard? How much did he hear? Did he hear Branwen or just me?

 

“You said ‘they’ earlier,” she said quickly, changing the subject. ”Something about them getting to me. Who are ‘they?’”

 

Hadyn looked away, flushing slightly at the mention of what he said earlier. ”Eat the rest of that sandwich, and I’ll tell you.”

 

Rhiannon sighed, annoyed, but consented and ate the remaining of the sandwich, savoring each and every bite. Food tended to taste so much more delicious when one was starving unbearably. The moment the last bite disappeared down her throat, she looked back at Hadyn, who was trying to stare past her into the room. She moved so that he couldn’t see the shards of glass from the shattered mirror on the floor, though he probably already did. ”Okay, tell me now.”

 

“Let’s see. Well, the demons found out that the hybrids lived in New York City, and just like we expected them to, they are currently attacking the city, probably targeting the hybrids’ homes and their families. Most everyone left to fight back, and that’s our problem.”

 

Rhiannon nodded, though she wasn’t exactly sure how it was such a problem that everyone was fighting. ”How do they expect us to be able to fend off so many demons? And did my father go? Or my uncle? Or Tristen?”

 

“The capital sent reinforcements, but they’re all fighting out there right now. Your dad’s out there, but he made your uncle stay and make sure nothing happened back here. Tristen went too. He said,” Hadyn paused as a strange emotion, not the taunting one that he usually had when Tristen was mentioned, emerged in his voice. ”He said that he didn’t feel like being useless to us, so he left.” He continued on casually with his explanation. ”Anyway, there’s a huge war going on outside right now. We’re fighting against the demons, and the faeries are at war with one another. The witches, vampires, and everyone else have taken sides too. It’s terrifying out there. I really do not want to have to go out there right now.”

 

“Hadyn, just get to the point,” Rhiannon sighed, exasperated. ”What’s the huge problem?”

 

”Sheesh Ree, you’re so impatient sometimes,” he teased, his green eyes sparkling with facetious amusement. ”Okay, well, we’re under attack. This whole place is surrounded by demons. Calx spotted a whole hoard of them headed toward us and left Salz back there to tell us.”

 

Astonishment widened Rhiannon’s eyes, followed by outrage. ”What the hell, Hadyn! You had to take that long to tell me that the demons are attacking us here?

 

Hadyn shrugged apologetically, pretending to be hurt at her outburst, though the huge grin on his face told otherwise. ”I’m sorry. I didn’t want you starving to death out there.”

 

Rhiannon’s mouth opened, and then closed. She was furious, not at the fact that they were all in potential danger, but at Hadyn’s obvious indifference at the urgency of the matter. Did he really have to wait until the sandwich was gone before he could tell her the bad news? Really now. That was a total waste of time. Heck, she wouldn’t be surprised if the demons had already made it into the mansion while they were wasting time. Her mouth opened again, and this time, some words actually managed to come out.

 

“I’m going to go change, and when I come back, I’m going to go outside and find these stupid demons that won’t stop harassing us,” she muttered, retreating back into her room to shut the door.

 

“Actually,” Hadyn called out pointedly just as the door slammed shut, ”Your ol’ uncle wants us to check on the hybrids and make sure nothing happens to them. So in other words, you’re not allowed outside.”

 

”Whatever,” Rhiannon grumbled under her breath as she threw open her wardrobe. Pulling out a pair of gray jeans, a black t-shirt, and a thin, dark gray jacket, she quickly changed into them, feeling a sort of eagerness and anxiety build up within her. From the lack of screaming and shrieking inside the actual mansion, she guessed that the demons had still not made it in yet, but she couldn’t help but catch that sense of foreboding in Hadyn’s news, despite the horribly annoying way that he announced them in.

 

She slipped on a pair of black boots that she had pulled from deep within her wardrobe, fastened the scabbard, complete with its rapier, to her belt, and slung both her quiver and her longbow across her back, before walking over to where the mirror used to be. The shards of glass crunched beneath the soles of her black boots, reminding her of everything she had just seen and heard. She pulled open one of the drawers to reveal a number of things, and of these things, she pulled out a brush. From another, she retrieved several elaborate silver bracelets and several iron ones, which she snapped around both of her wrists. She immediately set to combing her long, black hair, which had very few tangles, despite all that she had gone through, before quickly fixing it into a loose braid that still reached far past her slim waist.

 

Rhiannon paused, a faint, sad sigh forming on her lips. There was something else she needed to get, and that something was the earthquake that sent the tsunami of memories and regrets crashing back upon the shores of her despair. She walked back over to the nightstand where the lamp continued to shine dimly, stopping to pick up the old book, a subject of her rage, and fling it onto her bed. Stooping down, she slowly opened the bottom drawer, below the one that she had taken Scelus Orsa from.

 

There were two Sensors that made their place within that drawer. One was in perfect condition; the other the complete opposite. It was broken, as if it had been crushed by some heavy weight. It lay there, on the dark velvet adorning the interior of the drawer, as lifeless as its previous owner. Rhiannon gazed at the broken one, motionless for some time, and her lovely eyes, red and weary from the endless shedding of tears, began watering yet again, blurring her vision with the thin, watery film of misery.

 

She picked up both of them, sticking the one in mint condition in the back pocket of her jeans, and continued to stare at the broken one, her eyes clouding with mute remorse and despair. ”I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking, and she started to weep again, an onrush of tears rushing down her rosy cheeks like a waterfall breaking through the cruel dam that once restrained it and did so no more. ”It’s all my fault. I – I shouldn’t have left you there. I shouldn’t have been such an idiot. Damn it God, why did you have to let him die?” Her voice rose shrilly in wrathful hate. ”It’s not fair! Why can’t you just let us live in peace for awhile? Why did you have to let him die?”

 

Her voice was thick with emotion, almost more so than when she had laid eyes upon that girl that had so resembled the woman she hated, the woman that had torn out her heart with absolute glee and amusement shining in her black, black eyes. She sat down on the edge of her bed, ceasing in her rant of all the injustices of the world. She wept into her left hand, shoulders shaking uncontrollably, and her right hand clenched the broken device, until her knuckles turned a livid white and the jagged metal cut into the palm of her hand. Beads of blood oozed from the cut, but she paid them no mind.

 

At her door, the rapping resumed. ”Ree, are you crying again? Look, if you don’t say anything, I’m coming in. Don’t blame me for what I see.”

 

Rhiannon didn’t answer, but Hadyn was still a bit hesitant in actually opening the door. ”Ree, I’m going to open the door right now, okay?” Still no answer. ”Okay, I’m opening the door.”

 

The door creaked open slowly, as if Hadyn was waiting for any late protests, but none came, and he just threw open the door. Rhiannon could hear the footsteps as he approached her, but she kept her face in her hand. The sound of glass crunching beneath shoes came, and the footsteps ceased.

 

“You broke the mirror.”

 

It wasn’t a question so much as it was a plain statement. There was something in his voice, something worse than horror, that caused Rhiannon to look at him. Her tearful eyes met his suddenly stormy ones. The playful light had been vanquished, replaced by a fire, eating away the green forests in his eyes and replacing them with wicked flames. His red hair suddenly seemed wild and fiery, giving him an inhuman appearance. She even fancied that there was a hint of snarl working at the corners of his mouth.

 

Hadyn bent down, picking up a thin shard of glass, before stumbling over Rhiannon and sitting down beside her. He took her hand, the one that held the broken Sensor, and pried the device from her grasp. She offered no resistance; so bewildered was she by Hadyn’s sudden change in personality.

 

“You’re bleeding,” he said in a strangely monotonous voice. He lifted his head and stared back at her, and sudden anger overtook his voice. ”Why do you do this? Why do you keep trying to hurt yourself?” he cried, his eyes literally flashing dangerously. ”Don’t you realize how much you’re hurting us? How much you’re hurting me?” He paused, his grip on Rhiannon’s forearm tightening with each raging word. ”Just stop crying. ‘Some grief shows much of love; but much of grief shows still some want of wit.’ Why are you being so stupid?“

 

Something in Rhiannon sparked as well. She yanked her arm roughly from Hadyn’s, though it wouldn’t come free from his ever tightening grasp. ”What about you?” she spat bitterly, wiping her eyes with her free hand. ”When she died, you cried for nearly a month. I may have been little when it happened, but I still remember. Every time I tried to go into your room, you would start screaming and hurling things at my head. Do you know how much you hurt my own parents whenever you threw a tantrum like that? They treated you and loved you like their own son! They hated seeing you like that! And now you’re telling me all of this, like it’s never happened to you?”

 

Hadyn’s face hardened to one of stone, and Rhiannon froze, realizing too late that she had said the wrong thing. Her eyes flickered from his face to the shard of glass in his hand, and she suddenly understood. It was too late though. The words had already left her mouth; the words had already done their damage. The pressure around her forearm increased unbearably, and she could feel Hadyn’s nails digging into her flesh. She let out a sharp cry of pain, one that went unheeded by Hadyn.

 

“That was before I gave a damn about your family, before I cared about anything that happened to you. That was when I was still a selfish, little brat, but I guess I still am one, even now.” A frightening laugh formed on his lips, one that sounded more like a snarl than an actual laugh. “But I wouldn’t do anything to hurt you now.” His voice lowered menacingly, and he hissed, ”You know that, Rhiannon, don’t you?”

 

His fiery eyes bore into Rhiannon with such fearsome intensity that she flinched. She was suddenly terrified, not by the sudden change in Hadyn’s personality, but by Hadyn himself. What was wrong with him? He had never been like this before. The vicious light in his eyes, the snarl on his lips, the intensity of his gaze all made him seem… savage, inhuman… a monster. In that moment, Rhiannon wasn’t so sure if she could answer ‘yes’ to Hadyn’s question.

 

“I’m scaring you, aren’t I?” he murmured, dropping his gaze to the floor. The fire in his eyes extinguished itself, so that his irises returned to their normal green, and the wicked twist on his mouth evaporated. His expression returned to normal, if not a bit horrified and fearful itself. He released her arm, revealing four bloody marks on her forearm where his nails had cut into her skin, and his hand fell limply to his side. ”I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me just now.” He looked back at her, as if searching for forgiveness. ”I won’t hurt you again, Ree. I swear I won’t. Believe me. I’m sorry.”

 

Too numbed with shock and astonishment, Rhiannon could not summon any words, or even sounds, to her tongue. She sat there rigidly, her widened eyes locked on her friend’s pleading face. She wasn’t sure what terrified her more, how Hadyn had acted upon entering her room, or how abruptly his mood had changed. It wasn’t natural at all. She hardly noticed when Hadyn exclaimed in alarm: ”How the hell? I cut you so deeply! How is that possible?”

 

Hadyn examined his blunt, bloody fingernails in dismay for a second, before tossing the shard of glass that he still held in his hand to the floor. He stepped on it, grinding it to dust beneath the heel of his shoe, and stood up. ”Come on, we should get all this blood cleaned up.”

 

He took her hand, the one that wasn’t so bloody, cautiously, as if he were afraid that he would hurt her again. Rhiannon was too lost in thought to notice at all, and therefore, she stood up willingly, following him like a soulless zombie as he led her into the bathroom. The icy, cold water hitting the four deep puncture wounds jolted Rhiannon back to the living world for a moment, but she still kept silent. How was she supposed to react? Her friend had just intruded into her room, yelled at her for her over-excessive grief, went berserk when she mentioned his past, and then left her arm a bloody mess. How exactly was she supposed to react? She barely heard him as he spoke, a desperate attempt to get her to react, to yell at him, to anything.

 

“Ree, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do this. I don’t know what happened. I’m sorry. I would never have done this to you. I don’t know. I just saw the mirror and then the blood started roaring in my head, and I saw them again, and… and I don’t know, I just saw you crying, and I got so angry. I don’t know why. You know that’s not like me, don’t you? I wouldn’t do that. I would never mean to do that to you. Believe me. I’m sorry.”

 

He was pleading with her as her blood flowed down the drain, more blood from the wounds that he had inflicted on her than the cut that the Sensor had given her. He sounded almost hysterical at the fact that the blank expression had not yet left Rhiannon’s face. ”Rhiannon, I’m sorry. I really am. Just yell at me or something. Please. You’re scaring me with that look on your face. Are you really that pissed off at me?”

 

Rhiannon paid him no heed. Inside her head, she was trying to figure what had caused Hadyn’s sudden belligerence. The one thing that seemed most obvious was the mirror. It had been the first thing that he had noticed upon entering her room, and it was the thing that had probably reminded him of his past. I probably made it worse by mentioning it, she concluded, though she still didn’t think that it was the right answer. After all, Hadyn had never liked to hear any mention of his past, but he had never acted vicious whenever it was spoken of; usually, he just changed the subject whenever it was brought up. So that couldn’t be it. Was it the suffocating mixture of all her perfumes that got to his head? Maybe he was allergic to them or something, and they caused him to lose his sense of reason for a short amount of time. No, that was illogical; it didn’t make sense at all. There was only one other reason that Rhiannon could think of, and this time, there was nothing to contradict it.

 

“Do I annoy you, Hadyn?” she murmured, cutting him off in midsentence.

 

He froze, a trace of surprise finding its way upon his features. Then, his green eyes lit up, and a playful grin split his face. Almost immediately after the dark-haired girl had spoken up, his demeanor changed, and the anguish that had been laced earlier within his voice fell loose as a new inflection, completely different, wound its way into his tone. ”I’m pretty sure I annoy you a lot more than you annoy me.”

 

“What kind of answer is that?” Rhiannon protested, completely taken aback by the 180-degree turn in Hadyn’s personality. He was back to normal… again. Should I be freaked out by this? Probably. I’d ask him if he was feeling okay, but I might get him mad again so… no.

 

Hadyn’s eye twinkled with a tiny hint of satisfaction that Rhiannon failed to perceive, or to understand. ”The kind you get for ignoring me that entire time,” he joked, all traces of his previous despair washed away.

 

“I’m pretty sure I had the right to ignore you,” she countered, turning off the faucet and drying her icy cold arm with a nearby towel. The blood hadn’t totally stopped flowing, but it wasn’t oozing out as quickly as before. ”Especially since you ruined my arm like this and then turned it into a freaking ice cube.”

 

“I said I was sorry!” he cried, the distress returning to his voice, though it was washed away by more good humor before it could properly settle. ”Look, I’ll make it up to you. What do you want? I’ll be your slave for an entire day, or do you just want flowers? How about roses? I’m pretty sure they’re cheap right about now.”

 

Rhiannon frowned, mentally chastising herself for making her friend feel bad again, before mentally chastising Hadyn for having to make a joke of everything. Still, she was annoyed with herself most of all. Maybe Hadyn was right. Maybe all she was good for was hurting her loved ones. ”How about you give me a proper answer to my question, and I’ll totally forgive you. But you have to be brutally honest. I just want to know.” She paused, an inkling of a memory reminding her of some urgent matter. She started, a look of horror dawning on her face. ”Holy crap Hadyn! We completely forgot about the demons! What if they got in already? Oh my God, Hadyn, we’re such idiots. How could we forget like this?”

 

”Why are you dragging me into this? I’m not the idiot who forgot,” Hadyn pointed out with infuriating calmness. With Rhiannon forgetting about the grievance that he had caused her, he seemed completely tranquil again, for whatever reason that was. ”I actually remembered, unlike you.”

 

“Then why the hell didn’t you remind me?” cried Rhiannon, her hands wringing frantically. She turned, starting for the door.

 

“Well, you were crying, so it’s not like I could say anything, so -”

 

“Fine, fine,” Rhiannon muttered, desperation coloring her voice. ”Let’s just go, please.”

 

“Shouldn’t you get yourself a bandage or something? Otherwise, your jacket will get stained,” said Hadyn, still refusing to budge from beside the bathroom sink.

 

Rhiannon whirled on him, agitation and confusion clear in her lovely, brown eyes. “Hadyn, I don’t care! I’ll keep my sleeves rolled up until the stupid things heal. But why on Earth are you trying to stall, huh? Tell me why.”

 

“Oh, so now you demand something else of me? What happened to the other question?” A strange, sinister smile spread across his face, and she flinched again, despite herself.

 

She forced herself to recover, to brush off the fear that was returning to her. ”Hadyn, you have to stop doing this! What’s going on with you? You’re not like yourself at all! Please. Unless something’s wrong with you, we have to go and help the others.”

 

Suddenly, she felt him beside her, felt his warm breath on her cheek as he whispered almost sadly into her ear. ”It’s good to know that you’re not as selfish as me.”

 

Before Rhiannon could respond, he had already grabbed her arm, murmuring, ”Let’s go.”

 

She winced as his hand brushed the four bloody cuts on her arm, but something else caught her attention before she could say anything about her wounds. She slowed, suddenly worried, and Hadyn turned his head, confusion on his brow. ”Hadyn, are you sure you’re okay? You’re burning up. Do you have a fever or something?”

 

“Huh?” he said. ”No, it’s probably just because your arm’s freezing cold.”

 

No, that’s not it, she thought, feeling a cold sense of trepidation flit across her soul. Something was wrong with Hadyn. She was sure of it.

 

It was then that she noticed that the Sensor in her pocket was trembling faintly. Panic welled up inside of her, not for herself but for all the other Umbralatronis that were fighting outside. ”They’re here! They’re here! The demons are here! You know what? Screw the hybrids. We should be out there helping everyone else.”

 

She headed toward the steps of the staircase, the heels of her boots clicking distinctly against the marble flooring, but Hadyn’s firm grip on her arm prevented her from going very far. ”No,” he said sternly, his green eyes alight with some strange determination. ”You keep an eye on the half-breeds, and I’ll find Brunor. See what he wants us to do. Got that?”

 

A soft, grudging hiss snaked out from between Rhiannon’s clenched teeth, but she nodded, if not a bit reluctantly. Hadyn, satisfied, let go of her arm. She grimaced at the sight of the blood that trickled down her forearm but did nothing about it. Being what she was, the wounds would stop bleeding in barely a matter of minutes and heal completely in ten minutes or so.

 

Now free, she whirled on her heel pointedly and marched down the stairs, making sure that her displeasure was obvious.

 

“I should have bought those roses, shouldn’t I?” Hadyn said aloud. He hadn’t budged an inch yet.

 

Rhiannon halted, turning her head to look dolefully at him. Though it wasn’t obvious, especially with his casual, lighthearted tone, she understood clearly what he was hinting at. ”For both of us?” she asked quietly.

 

To her surprise, he shook his head, giving her a wry smile. ”No, for everyone. Except you, of course. You’ll be the one to give the roses to us unhappy souls. Make it like this isn’t going all to waste.”

 

“That’s not fair!” she protested, her voice bordering on whiny.

 

“Life is never fair,” he answered indifferently, starting to walk past her down the stairs. “Life is like a rose. It appears so pretty and gorgeous from a distance, and everyone wants it –to touch it and embrace it - but then, when they’re pricked by the hateful thorns that adorn its frail stem, they wish that it never came to them at all.”

 

“Is that how you feel?” Rhiannon asked angrily, feeling irritated by Hadyn’s bitter philosophy and the nonchalant tone that adorned it. ”So you would just leave me, like everyone else has, and let me drown in all these rose petals?”

 

Hadyn quickened his pace. ”No,” he stated, without hesitation. ”I wouldn’t let you drown.” He paused. ”I’ll make sure that you’re capable of floating on them before I leave. But we should get going now.” He flashed at her a brilliant smile. We’ve wasted too much time, haven’t we?”

 

His smile widened, as if to reassure her that nothing would go awry, but she caught sight of the shadow of sorrow that flickered across his face. As he turned to leave, she wanted to call him back, to apologize for all her pessimism, to say that everything was going be okay. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to say words that she didn’t believe. It was too hard. What was the point of meaningless words, meaningless encouragement, meaningless hope?

 

She let him go, her heart sitting in its chamber, as heavy as lead.

 

Outside, Rhiannon could hear the faint, distant shrieks of inhuman creatures as well as the cries of men. Strangely, the roaring of the merciless storm that beat at the Earth did not drown out these horrible, horrible sounds; in fact, they seemed to somehow amplify them.

 

Rhiannon couldn’t resist the shudder that ran coldly up her spine. She was drowning in fear, not for herself, but for everyone else. What if her father got killed out in New York City? What if Hadyn got ambushed by some demons while he was looking for Brunor? What if Brunor was already dead? What if they all died? What if they all decided to abandon her here and leave her to fester and rot in all the gore and despair wrought by this horrid war? What if?

 

She froze, tensing all over. A choked gasp wove its way up her throat, forcing its way. The room was overflowing with blood – thick, red blood. It splashed over Rhiannon’s boots, trying to suck her in. So much blood. She stared at the vast river of blood, slowly deepening, and then, the sound of someone wading toward her through the liquid caught her attention. She looked up, and what did she see but a figure, drenched from head to toe in blood, reaching urgently for her. She couldn’t recognize the bloody person, but she knew from deep within her heart that it was someone she could not bear to lose.

 

”No. Stop. Please,” she whispered desperately. Her hands flew to the side of her head, and she screwed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out what she was seeing. I don’t want this. I don’t want to see this anymore! Please. Just go away! Please! A silent scream worked its way out of her mouth, and her hands moved to cover her gaping mouth. She felt a hand on her shoulder, probably that of the bloody figure, and in utmost terror, she slapped it away, still refusing to open her eyes. ”Don’t touch me!” she screamed. ”Leave me alone! Just go away!”

 

“Ree, calm down. It’s just me.” Strong hands had gripped both of her arms, pinning her to the wall. For a while, she writhed and struggled against it, but then, the voice pierced her thoughts. Her eyes flew open to meet Hadyn’s green eyes, rimmed with concern and worry

ᅜ

“Hadyn,” she cried, fear and urgency seething in that single word.”Where are they? Are they safe? Please tell me they haven’t died yet!”

 

Confusion flickered across Hadyn’s face, before the horror and realization dawned upon him. Yet despite the fact that it had taken Hadyn only mere seconds to piece together what little pieces he had of the puzzle, the wait was all too long for Rhiannon. She twisted, trying to free herself from his hands, but surprisingly, Hadyn’s grip remained unrelenting. ”Let go of me!” she hissed angrily, on the verge of tears again, had she any more tears left to shed.

 

”Ree, calm down,” he repeated, the anxiety intensifying in his voice. ”It’s okay. It’s okay. No one’s dead.”

 

His answer only frustrated Rhiannon all the more. She could hear the implied yet that he had so carefully left out of his words. But why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t he let her go so that she could stop it from happening, just like she had done before so many years ago? ”Let me go! Please!” she begged, and her voice cracked with the intensity of her despair. ”Someone’s going to die. Please! I can’t let that happen! Not again!”

 

She choked back a sob, and almost instantly, she felt the pressure around her arms disappear. Hadyn had at last released her. The gratitude was apparent on her face, but it immediately vanished when Hadyn continued to bar her way out with his arms. ”Who is it? Who did you see?” he asked, carefully searching her face.

 

The reality of the situation hit Rhiannon like a freight train. She didn’t know exactly who it was. How could she possibly expect to save the person if she did not know whom it was that Death was currently stalking. She was as useless as ever, and she did not know just how long she could bear to be a helpless bystander. She wanted to hit something so badly, to release all the anger that was boiling within her, but the only thing that stood in front of her to hit was Hadyn, and she would never hit him.

 

Even with the lack of a reply, Hadyn seemed to have been able to guess the correct answer. ”There’s not much we can do if we don’t know who it is, Ree,” he said softly, like a mother speaking to her child. ”There’s something else we have to do right now. Brunor sent us to do it.”

[Mangaholic]

”What?” Rhiannon almost snapped, but immediately she lowered her gaze apologetically. There was no need to take out her rage on Hadyn, who was only trying to be practical.

 

Something shattered outside, followed by the angry cries of the Umbralatronis and the screeching of a demon. Hadyn’s eyes flickered in that direction, cursing under his breath, though somehow, Rhiannon got the feeling that Hadyn didn’t care what was going on out there.

 

”The demons,” Hadyn finally started to explain. ”There’s no doubt that they’ll be able to break into the house by the end of the night, whether or not reinforcements do come. That’s why Brunor wants us to get the hybrids out of here before the demons can get in. He’s coming with us too,” he added hastily, as if realizing Rhiannon’s utter abhorrence at the idea. ”He’s waiting for us at the dungeon.”

 

So they were ditching everyone, leaving them to die and fester and rot in this place while they escaped with their lives, under the pretense that they were guarding these so-called saviors. Rhiannon was disgusted.

 

Another crash sounded, this time much closer than before. The shouting also increased in volume.

 

“Look Ree. Just don’t argue with me on this for once. Please,” Hadyn pleaded.

 

Rhiannon stared at Hadyn, shame welling up inside her. She was being a jerk – a selfish, bratty jerk. ”Fine,” she sighed. ”What do you want me to do?”

 

”Just wake them all up and head over to where your uncle’s at.” He pressed a key into her hand. ”I’ll be fetching the ones in the infirmary, and I’ll meet you there.” He paused. ”You’ll be fine, right?”

 

I’m not entirely helpless, you know, Rhiannon thought sulkily. Well… okay, maybe my freezing-up-moments of horror are far from helpful, but that’s not being helpless.

 

“Yes,” she answered impatiently. ”But only under one condition: Don’t get yourself killed.”

 

“Deal,” he said, smiling as he turned away to head for the infirmary. ”But if you put yourself in danger, our deal is off.” He whirled around, so that he was no longer walking backwards. ”Because I won’t let you die, no matter what. And please don’t cry anymore.”

 

Rhiannon raised a hand to her eyes, surprised to find that they were brimming with tears again. She wiped them away hastily, annoyed herself for being such a crybaby. When had she become so prone to tears?

 

Hadyn’s parting words brought forth in her mind the words of another: Who’s going to die in your next attempt? Hadyn? The image of Hadyn, almost torn to shreds, flashed before her just as the real Hadyn turned the corner and disappeared from view.

 

She found it strange how similar the words of her best friend and the words of her worst enemy were. After all, they both implied the same thing – that Hadyn would pay if she did anything stupid, like running after Branwen for revenge. No, there was no way she was going to let Hadyn suffer for her own rash stupidity. None at all. Even if it meant not being able to quench her thirst for revenge against the woman who had so mercilessly torn her heart out.

 

Rhiannon walked over to the closest of the iron doors, quickly pushing the key into the lock. The door knob turned, and she flung the door open with such a force that it banged heavily against the wall of the room and almost came back at her. With not a care for how much the eyes of the hybrids would burn, she flipped on the light switch, filling the room with bright light.

 

“Get up!” she hollered before stepping out of the room, not bothering to see if any of the hybrids had in fact woken up. It wasn’t like she cared for them at all. After all, it was their fault that her home was being destroyed, that her friends and family were most likely being killed out there. It was their fault that she couldn’t go outside to fight and die beside her comrades, that she had to accompany them to escape like a couple of cowards and leave everyone else to perish.

 

She rushed over to the other three rooms in a blur of motion, doing the same exact thing. It was desperation that lent her this speed. She had to make sure that Hadyn and Brunor were still alright, because she could feel in her broken heart that something horrible was about to happen.

 

………………………………………………………………………….

 

Because I won’t let you die, no matter what.

 

Those words echoed his head as he rapidly walked away, desperate to get to the infirmary before he could have the impulse to return and talk to Rhiannon again. All around him, he could hear the shrieking of demons and the roaring of Umbralatronis. He could hear the raging storm, pummeling at the Earth, and the thunder that accompanied the lightning that viciously tore at the darkness. He could hear dying shrieks and tormented cries. He could hear all of these horrible sounds, and yet, he didn’t pay them any mind.

 

His mind was elsewhere. His mind was wandering.

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about what Rhiannon could have possibly seen. He was sure that her vision was of someone dying, though of whom, he did not know. Perhaps it was himself. That explained her last request – to keep himself from dying. He wasn’t exactly sure what to think of this – of dying, that was. It wasn’t that he wasn’t afraid of dying, but as long as he died protecting what he loved, he didn’t care what kind of torment and death he was put subject to.

 

His left hand absentmindedly strayed to the side of his abdomen and placed itself against his side, and in his mind flashed a memory that he had always tried to suppress, the memory of those feverish eyes, those pits of hatred and loathing. He knew that those would be his eyes too when God decided that it was time to let the rest of the world come crashing down on him. He knew that when that happened, he would no longer care if he lived or not. After all, what was the point of living if there was no purpose left, if the world had savagely ripped away the very last will to live?

 

Hadyn knew now that he could not completely blame that woman for what she had done, for he was sure that he would have done the same had he been in her place. For a second, he wondered what it had been like for her to live for that much longer, drowning in her grief and melancholy and despair. But then again, Brunor and Belinos had both managed to pull through their losses, if not without losing their heads for a while. From what he had been told, he knew that the two older men had done it for their living kin members, so why couldn’t she do it as well? Was her grief that great, or was something wrong with him? Did she really hate him that much? Hadyn couldn’t remember much of his life before everything had gone wrong, before the world had decided that he was too happy for his own good. The only memories of his childhood that remained as clear as day in his head were those of blood and shattered glass, of tears and horrible lamenting, of silence and darkness.

 

His thoughts flickered back awakening to Rhiannon, whom he hoped was currently the sleeping hybrids. What did she think of him now, after he had gone mad earlier? He truly couldn’t remember what happened at that point in time. It was as if something had taken over his body, but he did not know what.

 

Involuntarily, the hand upon his side clenched his abdomen so hard that he could feel his own nails digging into his skin. The black shirt that he wore did naught to dampen the pain, but that wasn’t the true source of his agony – the agony that forced him kneeling down on his knees, gasping painfully for air. That agony came from his heart. It was as of something was ripping his heart apart from the inside.

 

His free hand clutched his chest, and he could feel his heart beating violently beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to restrain each bloodcurdling howl of torment before it could escape his throat. With each howl that he suppressed, the pain seemed only to worsen, and the efforts made to keep his agony to himself were quickly taking a serious toll on his body. Then his mouth began to well up with blood. He wasn’t sure if he had bitten his tongue or if the blood had come from his innards, but wherever it came from, it was a hell lot of blood. The hand that had not been under his control suddenly loosened its grip on his torso and fell limply to his side, as well as his other hand. It was just as well that they did. His body convulsed violently, and he fell to his hands and knees, coughing up the blood that continued to flood his mouth.

 

Somewhere in the back of his head, where his brain wasn’t fogged up by all this torture, he wondered how long the demon – for he was sure that the culprit was some hidden demon – would wait before it finished him off. He knew what demons were like. Well, he knew what all Downworlders were like. He knew they loved to give their victims slow and painful deaths, especially if their victim was an Umbralatronis.

 

“Damn it,” he managed to stammer between the excruciating bouts of coughing. “Don’t tell me I’m going to break my promise so soon after I made it.“ Fear and horror flashed within him at the thought that his promise had in fact not been broken at all, and in that growing dread, he forgot his own pain. ”No, don’t tell me she’s in danger right now. She better not be,” he managed to choke out between the relentless coughs that tormented him.

 

A wave of new pain washed over him, and more blood forced its way out his mouth. He felt ready to collapse, but he wouldn’t allow himself to do so. He wasn’t going to die now; he wasn’t going to die without saving anyone. Summoning the last of his strength, he drew his sword from the sheathe that hung at his right side. It slipped from his trembling grasp, hitting the marble tiles with a reverberating clatter. That was the end of his line, the end of his strength. He toppled on his side, landing in his own pool of blood.

 

In that second – that bloody, dismal second - he suddenly remembered his best friend, wondered what it had been like for him to die so painfully. He wondered what it had been like for Rhiannon to sit there and watch her brother die such a violent and horrible death without being able to do anything except to watch helplessly. He wondered what she would think if he never came back to meet her. He prayed, knowing that it would never come true, that she would leave without him. But at least if he died now, she wouldn’t have to watch him die like this. That was a good thing, he supposed. He could die for all he cared, as long as no one had to see him this way.

 

A faint laugh slid out weakly from between his bloodstained teeth. ”So I guess I’m supposed to die now,” he whispered hoarsely. ”You let me live just to kill me off like this. What a nice sense of humor you have.”

 

A ragged cry of pain slithered out from his mouth, and he spat out more blood. The side of his abdomen burned horribly, burned as if he were reliving that horrifying moment of his life. It made it no better that he was in very much the same position he had been so long ago, in that horrible memory. But at least the agony he was feeling now was nothing compared to how he had felt so many years ago, drowning in his own pool of blood, just as he was now.

 

Hadyn, come here. Come over here to me.

 

Hadyn tensed, forgetting his pain yet again for a brief moment in his shock. He recognized that sad, forlorn voice , those hopeless, distraught words. He never thought that he would ever hear that voice ever again, but here it was. What a nice surprise.

 

“What do you want?” he murmured, with great effort. He shut his eyes, expecting Death to take him at any moment. It shouldn’t be long now. She had come back to finish what she had started, what they had stopped her from doing. ”Are you here to watch me die?

 

No answer came.

 

Anger numbed his pain, and he felt the blood roaring in his head again, just as it had done in Rhiannon’s room. ”Why did you do it to me?” he spat angrily, hatred fueling his words. Somehow, he managed to say them without choking on his blood. ”Why? Didn’t you care? How could you?” A tear rolled down his cheek, splattering in the darkening pool of blood. ”Why couldn’t you have finished me off that night? Why did you have to let me live, just to have everything I cared about taken from me again? Why?”

 

Again, no answer came from that familiar voice, but from outside came the long, horrible shriek of a dying demon. Suddenly, the ripping agony in his heart vanished, slowly ebbing away, to be lost forever in memory. He could feel his strength returning to his limbs, but he remained motionless, still exhausted by the strain that it had cost him. Blood still flooded his mouth, but at least it wasn’t in the same vast amounts that it had so before. Wearily, he waited for the demon to leap out from wherever it was hiding and finish him off, but no such creature came, and he assumed that the pain had disappeared because an Umbralatronis had managed to kill the demon. He mentally thanked whoever it was that had saved him.

 

Another weak laugh escaped from his throat. ”Thanks,” he muttered aloud. ”You let me live again, but I guess that means you’re going to take something I love again. Did I ever tell you that you have the funniest sense of humor?”

 

It was like déjà vu. The same pool of blood. The same pain. The same voice. The same outcome. Was it ever going to end?

 

But this time, he was still conscious. This time, no one came to carry him away. He was grateful for both. He didn’t want to be useless at a time like this.

 

”Thank you,” he murmured sincerely, without the previous sarcasm. He was still alive. He hadn’t broken his promise yet. He would live to protect the only precious things that the cruel, sadistic world had left to him. But the world was sadistic, nonetheless. If it chose to let him live, it was probably planning to drown him again in torture and unbearable despair. Oh, how he would loathe that day.

 

He rolled over, off of the sword that had been trapped beneath his legs when he collapsed on top of it. Taking a deep, strained breath, he forced himself to his feet, feeling nauseous as he did so. He managed, however, to keep from adding vomit to the blood. He bent forward to pick his sword off the floor, grimacing at the vast amount of blood that stained it. His own blood. Had he really hemorrhaged that badly? Despite being an Umbralatronis, he was amazed that he was still able to stand in spite of the tremendous blood loss that he had undergone. He was glad of his dark attire now. At least all the blood wouldn’t be that conspicuous on a black shirt and dark jeans, though he dreaded to know what his clothes would feel like once all the blood dried.

 

He examined his surroundings briefly, knowing that he would probably not being able to survive another ambush, no matter how twisted the world’s sense of humor was. He shuddered painfully and placed a hand against the wall to keep from toppling over again. It seemed that the blood loss had taken a greater toll on him than he had expected. Fortunately for him, the infirmary in which the three wounded hybrids were lay only a couple more feet in front of him. Then all he would have to do would be to limp back to Rhiannon and pray that nothing had happened to her during his absence. For a moment, he wondered if the hybrids would take advantage of his weak condition and try to flee, but he brushed the thought away. He had no other choice. He would never know how they would react to him, but who knew? Maybe they would understand the dire urgency of the situation just from concluding that their captors would never send a wounded to retrieve them. He would never know unless he tried.

 

Each step that it took to reach the door of the infirmary set a wave of pain throughout his body. Now that the ripping agony in his heart had mysteriously disappeared, he could feel the horrible pain in the left side of his abdomen. It was as if a dagger had been stabbed into his side, despite the fact that it was only his nails that had been dug into his skin. Was this part of the demon’s power, to bring back the nightmarish memories that one tried to forget?

 

An exhausted grunt found its way through his clenched, still blood-stained teeth, and Hadyn leaned heavily against the door, trying to catch his breath. What was going on? He had only once before been in this kind of agony and pain. How could it possibly be back, especially when no creature had physically attacked him? There was a limit to how strong ranged attacks could be. Hadyn sucked in his breath. No, it couldn’t be. Was it… Him? But if it was, then why would He have let Hadyn live?

 

Fear shot through Hadyn, fear that He had left Hadyn alone to go after Rhiannon, whose death would be a much more valuable reward than someone like Hadyn. The thought was what lent Hadyn the strength to slip the key into the key hole and open the door. Whatever happened, he needed to get back to Rhiannon as soon as possible, before another one of his friends was torn from his life. He wasn’t going to allow his own pain and suffering to get in the way of that, no matter what.

 

Gritting his teeth even more, if that was possible, he walked heavily into the room and flipped the light switch on. Immediately, the room flooded with the light of the fluorescent light bulbs, something that would most likely be painful to the eyes of someone who had just awoken. Hadyn, just like Rhiannon, didn’t care. He was seething with far too much desperation to have given that much thought, but unlike Rhiannon, he couldn’t waste his strength on screaming. He could only pray that the sudden light would awaken the hybrids for him.

 

………………………………………………………………………….

 

Blood. Blood everywhere. That horrid moon, full like some pale yellow orb adrift in a starless, black sea, cast its silver light that night only to illuminate the crimson red stains upon an otherwise pure white blanket of snow. There was just blood; no other color stood out to the girl who stood beneath the accusing boughs of the shivering trees. It was just scarlet red in an ocean of black and white and pain.

 

Blood flowed freely from the grotesque gash high up upon her right arm, staining her jacket until her sleeve was just the color of blood. Blood. Only blood. What was this world, but scarlet red blood?

 

The girl took an unsteady step forward, trembling. Her blue-gray eyes were fixed upon the unmoving corpse that lay upon the stained white blanket. His throat was overflowing with some thick, crimson fluid, and there was nothing on his chest but that same horrifying liquid. With a hoarse cry of shock, she threw herself on the snowy floor beside the body of the boy.

 

“Fane! Oh God, what have I done?” She was kneeling beside the body now, her eyes melting the cold ground with her hot tears. She was trembling uncontrollably, staring at her brother’s pale, dead face. ”Why did you have to do it? Why?!”

 

She bit her lip so hard to keep from crying out loud that blood began to trickle down her chin, but she didn’t care. Her thoughts were fixed only on what she had seen and what she was seeing now. Her hands shook uncontrollably, not from blood loss, but from pure terror and disbelief. No, this can’t be possible. How can it be? How? Why? Why, God, why?!

 

A harsh, mocking cry rudely cut through the wintry air and through her miserable thoughts, and the girl raised her head in surprise to stare at the terrible creature that had released the screech. A raven, dark and scornful, was perched on the barren limb of one of the trees before her, and it watched her with its beady, pebble-like eyes. ”What do you want?” cried the girl angrily, recovering only slightly from her grief.

 

The bird, in its ominous robe of black, made no answer to her question, but instead began to sing, with the voice of the girl:

 

“There once was a little raven girl

Who grew to hate the cruel, dark world.

She watched her siblings take wing and fly.

She listened as they filled her head with lies,

They who were her mother and father

And she grew to hate them, them who hated her.

Her heart burned with such fury and lust

That it crumbled to ashes and dust

In the heartless apathy of the wind.

And night brought her calloused and cold

To the door of Death, ancient and old

And so, darkness was brought by Death upon her brethrens’ eyes

And the cruel, dark world echoed with their frightful cries

But the little raven girl only watched with soulless, black eyes

As one by one, her kin began to fall and die.”

 

The girl froze, not believing that these deathly words had left the raven’s beak. Her mouth gaped slightly, and her bloody lips trembled as she registered the meaning of the creature’s song. ”No,” she murmured, shaking her head desperately at the bird perched upon the barren branch. ”No, I didn’t kill them. I would never have.”

 

The raven ignored her words and continued to sing in her voice, though in a childishly mocking manner:

 

“Alina, Alina, blood upon the cold, dead land

Alina, Alina, blood of thy kin upon thy wretched hands.”

 

 

At the sound of her own name, the girl stood up unsteadily and covered her ears with both her hands in a futile attempt to block out the song. ”Shut up! Leave me alone! I never meant to kill them, to let them die. Why would I want that? I don’t care what you say! Just leave me alone!” screamed the girl at the raven, calloused and cold. The forest echoed with her frightful cries, but the raven only watched her with soulless, black eyes.

 

And suddenly, as if her words had held some magical power within them, the eyes of the dead body flew open, but they weren’t Fane’s eyes. They weren’t the cheerful light brown that the girl had always remembered. Those were gone, replaced by something more sinister and terrifying.

 

The girl staggered back a few steps, her gray eyes now fixed in horror on the sight of her dead brother struggling to his feet. She stumbled and nearly fell, but luckily, she managed to stay on her feet. ”Fane, you’re alive? How - how is this possible? I saw you die.” came the girl’s hoarse, trembling voice. Her back struck something hard, and her hand brushed against rough, frozen bark. She was cornered, trapped like some frightened deer hunted relentlessly down by the fierce, merciless wolf.

 

“I did die, Alina,” Fane laughed bitterly. He began taking the few steps needed to reach the deathly pale girl. Each step stained the snow with his blood – blood that continued to flow from his chest and from his neck. “You let me die, don’t you remember?”

 

”No,” the girl cried frantically, clutching the massive tree behind her that barred her escape. Something in her head told her that the second she turned her back to flee would be her last. ”I never meant to let you die. I never wanted you to! You don’t know how painful it was to watch you die!”

 

“Lies, Aderyn,” Fane snarled harshly, his lips curling back to reveal the long fangs hidden within his mouth, “nothing but filthy lies leave your damn mouth, and I’ll tear your throat out for those lies and for killing me and my dear sister.”

 

Her eyes were wide with fear and terrible panic now, but for all she had, she couldn’t move, couldn’t wrench her own eyes from the Fane’s glowing, yellow ones. Behind the dead man, the raven continued to sing its horrid song:

 

“Here’s to the deaths of the ones above

Here’s to the deaths of the ones you love

Here’s to the deaths of those few chosen ones

All by this wretched raven’s hand are done.”

 

The yellow-orange orbs flashed at those words, and what little humanity in the dead boy immediately vanished, swept away by the heartless, uncaring wind. A low growl escaped the caverns of his throat. “I’ll find you, little raven, and I’ll tear you to shreds, before you can kill me or anyone else ever again.”

 

As the words left his mouth, he closed the distance between himself and the raven-haired girl with a massive leap, his fangs and claws all posed to kill.

 

And a bloodcurdling shriek ripped from the little raven girl’s throat.

 

----------------------------

The shadows were echoing with terrible screams. Alina Aderyn Tomescu awoke to darkness – cold, unwelcoming darkness. It pressed at her on all sides, suffocating her so that she could not breathe. The air was frigid and stifling; her lungs rattled with each breathe she took, adding to the eerie echoes in that suffocating blackness. It was like the sound of imminent death, a warning of the terrible tragedy that was to come.

 

She didn’t know where she was; she didn’t care. Her mind was still lost in that recurring nightmare that she had only barely managed to escape from. She didn’t realize that the screams that were reverberating back at her had been her own. At that point in time, she thought that the very walls knew of her past, and were mocking her for it, and she drew her knees up in the most futile attempt to comfort herself. But what else could the girl do, when she was lost, unwanted, and hated by everyone, even herself? What could she do, when the entire world wanted her vanquished and gone, even the brother that she had loved so much? Nothing. There was absolutely nothing she could do but drown in her own grief and remorse and hatred for the cruel, dark world.

 

Alina was lost and insecure in that darkness, with nothing that could possibly console her or bring to her comfort of any sort. She forgot completely about the silver pocket watch that took its place in the pocket of her bloody jacket; she forgot about waking up in the morning to find that her dog wanted her dead and to find that she was a monster, like her mother had always suspected; she forgot about that savage beating that she had been so utterly defenseless against and the absolute terror from which she had felt; she forgot even her will to live. All she knew at that moment was that she was missing, possibly dead, and that no one cared.

 

As the echoes of her deathly screams began to fade away, and yet continued to haunt Alina in her frail mind, the young girl pressed the palm of her left hand upon some place high up on her right arm, where beneath the woolen fabric of her jacket was hidden a long, grotesque scar of her past. It was the reason why she no longer wore short sleeved shirts or anything that revealed that ugly thing to the public. She still remembered that first and only day that she had been stupid enough to leave it on display for the entire school to see.

 

It had been two months or so after Fane’s death - so around February - when she had done so. She remembered sitting at her desk as her classmates bombarded her with questions about it, and about that day, completely oblivious to the pain that they were subjecting her to. After all, people only care about quenching their own curiosity, without a care for what immense despair they put their victim through. They had driven Alina to the end of her sanity and patience and ignited her rage, and she had exploded, screaming and flipping things over with such a passion that she had seemed a demented psychopath to all in that classroom. When one of her classmates had proceeded tauntingly to telling her that she was being crazy enough to be the daughter of the devil, she had socked him in the face, marring his features with a gruesome black eye. It had been then that her teacher actually interceded between the boy and Alina, grabbing her arm and holding her down like she was some kind of rabid dog.

 

“Alina, what do you think you’re doing?” her teacher had asked sternly, glowering at her. All of her classmates had been crowding around them, eager to watch the fight that been ended by their furious teacher. “You’re coming with me to the principal. Can someone take Blake to the nurse’s office for me? He needs to get fixed up.”

 

She remembered gaping at him in the utter disbelief that he hadn’t even bothered to punish her classmate for technically making her punch him in the first place, before walking toward the door, fuming in both rage and humiliation. And the one thing of that day that remained clearest in her mind was what her teacher had said to the class as she reached for the door handle.

 

“Well, there you have it, guys,” Those were his cruel, messed-up words, adding insult to injury. “Never mess with an emotionally-disturbed psychopath.”

 

And she remembered turning around to stare at the man standing behind her with such cold fury that she couldn’t speak for what seemed to be an eternity. All eyes had been on her, waiting for her reaction, and the only words that had left her mouth before she had left the room and slammed the door in his face with such force that the desks literally shook were: ”And which insane psychopath let an inconsiderate jackass like you be teacher?”

 

She had been suspended for the longest time ever – or at least it seemed like the longest time ever – for physically assaulting another student. Her teacher never mentioned the fact that she had dared to insult him so boldly or that she had slammed the door in his face, but that was probably because he’d get in trouble for mocking her in the first place.

When her sentence had at last been over, she returned to school, hoping that no one remembered what she had done. Unfortunately, the news about the incident had spread like wildfire throughout the school, and Alina became known as the deranged lunatic that everyone avoided like a plague, for fear of incurring her wrath. Even her own friends were uneasy around her. Though they didn’t say it to her face, she knew that they only continued to invite her over to their homes out of pity, and she, constantly yearning for someone to confide in, would always accept, and it would always lead to disastrous consequences.

 

You’re a plague, Alina, hissed some cruel, dark voice in the back of her battered head. The most devastating plague in this world. You strike all your loved ones down without even lifting a finger. You must be so proud of yourself.

 

A choked sob racked Alina’s beaten body, and tears began pouring out of her soulless, black eyes. ”No, I never wanted to kill them,” she whispered weakly to herself.

 

Don’t lie, Alina, said that voice mercilessly. You know you wanted them dead, for being loved when you weren’t and for having what you didn’t. Don’t try to fill your head with your own filthy lies. They won’t work, and you know that.

 

There was no answer to this, other than the thin, inhuman wail that emanated from the bloody girl who sat, knees drawn up, in some dark, unknown corner of some dark, unknown place. All of her pain and melancholy was poured into that single despairing call, so that it chilled the bones of any who heard it. It was not a beautiful sound in any way; it was like the death cry of a dying person, only this girl could not die when she wished it most. Why was that? Was the world too cruel that it would deny such a desperate wish?

 

The end of her lament was broken by bouts of coughing and sobbing until it was completely replaced by these new intruders. They tore through the silence as savagely as they tore through the girl, both through body and soul, and yet, that sinister, unforgiving voice in her head continued to pummel her with its accusations.

 

Look at yourself, drowning in your own self-pity, sneered her conscience, its words laced with obvious scorn and contempt, when your parents are probably dead. But then again, you never cared about them, just like they never cared for you.

 

At that moment, Alina stopped crying, and the memory of her mother chastising her with harsh, scornful words and treating her so coldly overcame her. She remembered her mother’s accusations and suspicions, and despite all that Alina had done in an attempt to please the woman, she knew that Bianca had not yet been rid of her hatred for her daughter. By the way Bianca often treated her daughter, there was no doubt that deep within the woman’s heart, there was still the cruel wish that Alina had died instead of her other daughter, Sorina, and her precious son, Fane.

 

Sudden hatred for the dark-haired woman who was her mother flared within the young raven girl, and all of her despair and self-pity was swept away by an onslaught of burning rage and cold fury. Her teeth clenched and grounded together furiously as she fought to hold the tremendous rush of anger within. A furious hiss crept through her clenched teeth, filling the eerie quietude with yet another unearthly sound.

 

If there had not been such darkness to obscure Alina, one would have been horrified by the abrupt change in the girl’s features. Her ebony-colored pupils had become so dilated that her eyes seemed to be void of their whites. Her face was strangely thin and pale, almost deathly-like, as if she had never before laid eyes upon the golden sun or its warming rays. Her beautiful, black hair was in tangles, unkempt, and fell wildly over her lean and haggard face, and her bloodied hands, though she did not realize at the moment that her hands were so, added to her menacing appearance. In short and concise words, she resembled a demon, if not worse, and if she had walked upon holy ground, anyone would have been utterly shocked to not see her fall to the ground, melting like the Wicked Witch of the West.

 

When Alina spoke again, the voice that came from her mouth was no longer hers. It was the voice of another woman - a real demon perhaps - high, sharp, and scornful. Perhaps Alina had been possessed by some hateful ghost wandering about in that maze of shadows and malice, or perhaps Alina really was a monster, a demon, a witch who took pleasure in ruining the lives of others. Perhaps the world was right in its suspicions, and Alina was the one who was wrong in her doubts and protests. Who knows? The world was always a complicated place, with thousands of mysteries hidden from the human eye, and we, as humans, are just too blind to see them. But then again, maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t see them. There is nearly no doubt that when Alina would return to her senses, she would wish with all her heart that she was as blind as the rest of us are.

 

“You’re right,” laughed the girl, in her seemingly insane and possessed voice, ”They probably are dead, and I totally don’t give a crap. Who says they don’t deserve Death? In fact,” she paused as a sinister smile crept across her bloody lips and a high, derisive giggle left them, before going on, ”maybe I killed them, both of them and Sorina and Fane. Maybe I’m like that crazy girl from that one movie, The Uninvited, or whatever it was called. But who cares? I certainly don’t. They deserve it, for everything they’ve done to me. I hope they’re enjoying the darkness just as much as I am.”

 

The shadows erupted with terrifying laughter as the raven-haired girl, seemingly alone and lost in that foreboding place, was completely engulfed by insanity. Who was to say that Alina really wasn’t some emotionally-disturbed psychopath who shouldn’t be messed with? In that cold, empty place, she certainly seemed to match the description that her teacher had given her and that had so infuriated her. In fact, who was to say that all of Alina’s life wasn’t just some figment of her imagination that she had conjured in order to escape the guilt of killing her loved ones, or actually, her hated ones?

 

[lilyice]

Kathy found herself to be in a state between the reality and the dream world when she thought she heard a voice. Her brain worked frantically, trying to piece everything together and to fight off the grogginess. A split second later, she realized what she heard was a question. From Danni.

 

”How’s the food?”

 

Food? What food? The teen lifted her right hand to her face, and realized that there was indeed a piece of half-eaten bread in her hand. Oh right! I was eating… and I fell asleep? Man I must be tired. Rubbing her eyes with the back of her free hand, Kathy twisted her body so that she faced Danni while lying down. ”Oh yeah, it’s terrible. Don’t try eating it unless you’re really hungry,” she advised.

 

The room then fell into another comfortable silence. In less a minute, the blonde girl was asleep once more.

 

………………………………………………

 

”Mommy, I want to eat ice cream! Please, please, please, can you go buy me ice cream?”

 

“This late at night, dear? It’s almost midnight! You should be asleep, like your brothers.”

 

”Bu-but…” The little girl’s lips began to quiver; glittery liquid substance formed pools of tears at the bottom of her eyes. She stood at the door of her parents’ bedroom, in her cute little pink bunny nightgown, tugging at her mother’s pajamas. She had just awoken from a terrible nightmare, and had the strangest urge to eat ice cream to calm herself down. ”Please?” Her wide, auburn eyes stared into those of her mothers’, pleading.

 

The woman gave a resigned sigh, muttering about how she was spoiling her daughter too much, and went back into her bedroom to change. With a kiss on the cheek to her sleeping husband and her eight-year-old daughter, she grabbed her car keys and swept out of the apartment flat.

 

She never came back.

 

In the morning, flashing lights and whining siren awoke the girl. She sat unnoticed in a corner of the living room, watching as strange men stormed in their apartment, and as her father stumbled out, still in his ruffled night clothes. She heard bits of pieces of the their conversation, none of which was pleasant. Her father was yelling; the strange men were trying to calm him down.

 

“… woman… found dead… gangs at night… car racing on the streets… crashed… convenience store…”

 

“… yes… how is it possible?! … what happened… no, no, that can’t be…”

 

Stalking quietly back to her room, the girl sat on her bed, unmoving, hugging the teddy bear that her mother had given her for her fifth birthday. Much later, one of the strange men came to talk to her. He asked her if she knew what her mother was doing out so late at night. She shook her head fervently, never speaking a word.

 

But she did know. She knew the truth. She had killed her mother. It was her fault. She had wanted that ice cream. Her mother had gone out to buy her some. It was her fault. All her fault. Her fault…

 

Uncontrollable tears slipped down her cheeks; her eyes widened in terror. The door that the policeman had left closed after he left creaked. The girl looked up. The speed at which it opened was agonizingly slow. A human… no, a thing walked in. It had the features of her mom: the rich brown hair, the burning emerald eyes, the thin and beautiful figure, the graceful long fingers. But it was deformed. Its hair was splattered across its shrunken and grotesque face; fangs protruded from its ugly mouth, drool dripping from its corners; its outstretched hands had no skin – only bones. And its eyes. Their crazed look reeked of nothing but death.

 

”M-momma…?” the girl whispered, backing away towards the wall. She was far too preoccupied to notice the mad flickering of her night lamp that stood off to the side. Though she thought she heard thunder outside, she wasn’t sure. All her attention was focused on the thing that advanced upon her.

 

The creature opened its mouth and let out an inhumanly high-pitched shriek, twitching and writhing in agony at the voice of the scared and powerless little girl. Yet still, it advanced toward the girl. Its shriek continued to fill the room; its fingernails turned into claws and made grabbing motions forward.

 

The girl was now crouched against the wall, her eyes squeezed closed and her hands covering her ears. Through a peek, the girl saw the monster coming down at her, its eyes now glaring red, a cruel yet sorrowful smirk hanging at its mouth. She took in whatever air her little lungs would allow, and let it all out in one scream.

 

“Aaahhhhh-”

 

………………………………………………

 

“-aaaahhhhh!”

 

Kathy’s eyes, fully amber, snapped wide open. She jerked up in her bed, sweating profusely and shaking violently. She could only hear her own heavy breathing and pounding heart, which sounded like a full-out rock concert to the blonde, in the quiet, dark room.

 

Turning over her bed sheet, Kathy literally jumped out of her bed and ran to the bathroom, feeling extremely nauseous. Flipping on the lights, she planted her hands on the counter of the bathroom sink and took several deep breaths. She hadn’t had that nightmare for a while, at least not since she was ten. And that last part… that was new. She’d never dreamt about that… thing… before. Lifting her head to face the mirror, Kathy studied her own reflection. She was a mess. Her hair, still spiky like that of a porcupine, was standing on its end. Each string of hair seemed tensed and strung, opposing the law of gravity. Her eyes were yellow-orange and dilated, not unlike those of a startled cat. Beads of sweat hung across her forehead, the sides of her face, and her entire back, making her clothes cling to her body.

 

The shriek of the creature in her dreams relived itself inside Kathy’s mind. The terrible screech, ear-piercing and inhuman… she could hear it almost as if it was there, in front of her… that screech which sounded so real… too real… Kathy froze. It was too real, it wasn’t her imagination running wild. She could hear it. Shocked, the teen stood as still as a statue, unmoving. The faint shrieks came from outside… what was happening?

 

For the first time since she awoke, Kathy realized that she was not in her own room. Memories flooded her head as she remembered the carriage ride, the Umbralatronis, the faerie blood within her… What time is it now? How long have I slept? The blonde looked around frantically, trying to find some damn piece of mechanic that would show the time.

 

Without warning, the door to the main room flung open with a loud bang! and fluorescent lighting suddenly filled the entire room. Kathy’s eyes adjusted quickly to the new brightness, as she formerly already had the bathroom light on. A booming voice hollered from the outside. It was a female voice, telling them all to get up. It repeated three more times, all preceded by a loud banging noise, presumably the door being flung open, quite literally. Released from her former shock, Kathy’s feet found themselves running toward the door to the outside hall. She didn’t bother to see if Danni was up, as she was sure that the girl would awake on her own accord, from all this noise.

 

Once outside, Kathy found herself looking at a frenzied girl, the same age as her or perhaps a bit older. What the blonde noticed first about the other girl was not her breathtaking beauty, nor her anxious and contemptuous aura, but rather her arm. It was bleeding from a few punctures, and torrents of blood streamed from the wounds. Kathy felt quite nauseous once again, staring at the flowing crimson liquid.

 

Another part of her brain, one that wasn’t overflowed with confusion and overwhelmed by the recent events, noted that the monstrous screams seemed much, much louder outside. It seemed that whatever it was – or they were – was getting closer. Strangely, Kathy felt unnervingly calm. Maybe her nerves were so spent that they didn’t function properly anymore. The only thing that the blonde did was to stand there, waiting for the others to come out, while staring at the raven-haired girl with a dumbfounded expression upon her face.

[Kira1]

Danni listened to Kathy's response about the food and then watched the girl fall asleep. She then looked at the food, and decided against it since she wasn't that hungry. Kathy falling asleep made her realize that she was a bit tired herself and some sleep would do her good. Laying down on the bed she was sitting on, Danni closed her eyes and let sleep come to her.

 

 

Her sleep started out fine, pleasant dreams of home filling her mind, but they drastically changed to nightmares, with monsters that she could not see lurking around the corners. In her dreams she ran, and in her bed she tossed and turned fitfully. She didn't know when it was going to end. Usually she would wake up, find herself in the comforts of her own room, before hiding under the covers to calm herself to fall back asleep. This time, it didn't seem like she would wake up and that she wouldn't escape from the nightmare.

 

She became terribly frightened trying to hide wherever she could but those monsters seemed to be everywhere, trying to get her. It was becoming night in her dream, and as the light from the sun vanished, the monsters seemed to come out more. She ran for her life, trying to get away and just when it seemed all hope was lost, there was a blinding light.

 

 

With a soft groan, Danni lifted her hand up to her eyes to block the light that was pouring down from the fluorescent lights above her. Except she didn't have any fluorescent lights in her room such as these, but then she realized she wasn't in her room. Blinking her eyes as she became accustomed to the light, she saw the other girl, Kathy, run out of the room. Slowly, Danni sat up, wondering what was going on, forgetting the nightmare she just had as it was replaced by her curiosity for what was happening now. She stood up and moved towards the door to see what was out there, and heard the screams.

 

Chills went down her spine as she heard them, stopping in her tracks. Should she just stay here where it might be safer, or should she try to find the others? The latter seemed better in this situation since she had no idea what those screams were. Deciding to follow after Kathy, Danni darted out of the room, not wanting to stay in one place for too long, and caught sight of the other girl. She followed after the other quickly, trying not to lose sight of Kathy and become lost in this place. Though, she wondered if Kathy knew where she was going.

 

It seemed like she did though since soon Danni found herself outside with Kathy not too far ahead of her. The scene before her was something she never thought she would lay eyes on. She stared at the raven-haired girl before with a shocked expression as she saw the blood running down her arm. A wave a nausea passed over her, but she closed her eyes for a moment to force the feeling away. After it was gone, she reopened her eyes, now expecting the bloody sight and could stand it a bit better. It was still gruesome to see, and she would rather not see it, but it couldn't be helped.

 

Just what was going on!? Danni's mind raced for answers, her eyes darting around to see what else was around her. Slowly, she stepped closer to Kathy, wanting to be by someone who she believed she could trust to be on her side. At least this way she would feel she had someone who could help her.

 

"Um, Kathy, what's going on?" She said in almost a whisper, her throat still partially dry from sleep. She swallowed, trying to get rid of the dry feeling, eyes falling back on the raven-haired girl.

[Elsendor]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

You will know true beauty when you see it, because there is a fine line, if any at all, between beauty and terror.25th of June, 2010

The dungeon of the Aileach Estate

 

“Do you believe in demons, Avoni?” He stared up at his father in mute terror, scarcely daring to breathe as a slow trickle of blood slipped to the corner of his mouth and down his chin. Demons? Creatures of evil that sought to steal your soul and drink your blood? Shadowy fiends that thrived on your pain, your suffering, your anguish? No one was that bad. There couldn’t be anything that cruel… no one hurt people without reason, even if the reason was wrong.

 

Did they?

 

“Answer me.” Grey-green eyes widening, he shook his head. “I don’t, Father.” An audible snap sounded as his father backhanded him across the face. Tears flooded his eyes once again. What had he done wrong, this time? Was he supposed to believe in demons? Did they really exist?

 

His father cupped his face in one large hand, all the sensitivity of an artist in that touch. He flinched, shying away. “Avon, Avoni. You stupid little puppy.” Stupid little puppy. Poor fυckєr. Little curse.

 

“Demons are monsters, Avoni. Creatures that shouldn’t exist, that came from elsewhere to make people miserable. They kill people, hurt them, tear out their hearts without ever touching them.” As he spoke, his father took his wrists and pressed them close together, his forearms parallel. When he reached into his pocket and drew out a long, white cord, Concord began to sweat. “They take away those you love, watch you suffer and do nothing to make it better. They make life so terrible that death itself looks like a honeymoon.” He watched in cowed silence as his father wound the cord around his wrists and wound them partway up his forearms before tying it off. Then it was as if a heavy sheet fell from his shoulders and he gazed upwards, fear glazing over his solemn eyes.

 

“Father?” His father ignored him, lifting him up onto a tall stool and making him stand, his head less than a foot below one of the solid beams that supported the attic floor. A metal hook stuck out from the underside of the beam. He had never seen it before, but a coldness suddenly crept through his limbs. When he was made to lift his arms up in the air, he knew what was going to happen. “Father!” The response came in the form of a vicious slap that made his vision spin and his ears ring. And then the cord that bound his wrists was hooked against the ceiling. Tears streamed down his face. “Ma—“ The soft plea had scarcely been torn from his lips when the stool was swept out from under him and he fell, jarring his wrists hard against the hook that held him dangling in the air. Pain lanced down his arms and forced a cry of pain from him. Dangling, his head hung downwards as he struggled to heave in a breath, so deep was his shock. Liquid trickled down his arms, and with a soft moan he looked up to see his wrists, cut by the thin cords that stood out against his dark skin, and blood beginning to stain the white fibers.

 

Why?

 

“You are the demon, little Avoni.” He shook his head helplessly. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, didn’t like to see anyone in pain. “I—“ A third blow sent sparks flying through his vision. “You, little demon, are the reason she died.” He looked up in protest, and the sight of his father, lip curled in a snarl, eyes dark and full of hatred, terrified and overwhelmed him. “No…” Ma. Mother. His fault. Tears rolled down his nose and over his mouth to splatter on the floor, so far below. “She died saving you, you fiend. She was on that train because of you.” His father’s voice was rising in pitch now, a dangerously crazy note in his words. “You stole her away from me, Avoni-demonsson. Demon’s bαstαrd. You made her choose you over me. She died so you would live, died and left me.” He waved a razor in front of his son’s face, laughing cruelly.

 

“Little demon, you’re going to pay for all that you’ve done.” By the time the blade bit into his skin, he was already screaming.

 

Screaming. Screams echoed wildly in the dungeon, terrifying as the dying shrieks of a tortured child, falling raw and chilling through a darkness so heavy and tangible that it weighed down on him like shackles. Shivering violently from something greater than cold, he whimpered and tucked his head between his knees, locking his arms around his legs to keep them from rattling against his temples. Make it stop! Make it stop! His own screaming mingled madly with the shrieking of a girl and he did not know it, only pleaded with the darkness for it to stop. His whole body shook uncontrollably with sobs, once again reducing him to a small eleven-year-old child who lacked the ability to comprehend the extent of the horror that had just occurred. The heavy darkness pressed on him from every side, driving him further into himself, forcing him into a smaller ball of terrified teenage boyhood.

 

Whispers and shouting played through his head, round and round. Demons… death and pain and darkness—Winter! Ice and frost reflection light, peace and rest, cold fire burning future world frozen colours beauty father demon my fault ma! Somehow his father had managed to find him… he was toying with him, drawing out the length of time before he would resume his cruel knifeplay. Frantic, he unscrewed the small container he still clutched in one hand, squirreling his fingertips into the bottom to get at one of the round, white forms at the bottom. Drawing a hiccupping breath, he set the tablet on his tongue with shaking fingers.

 

Minutes passed by as the ecstasy took effect, calming his convulsing movements and his wild-eyed panic. A shuddering sigh passed through him once, twice. He gradually became aware of a woman’s voice speaking to the darkness, hateful and harsh, with a menace that seemed scarcely human. Dread overwhelmed him, and he knew he did not want the owner of that voice to find him. Pressing his lips together tightly and forcing himself to be silent, he listened in nameless terror to the mocking voice.

 

“…who says they don’t deserve death? …--rina and Fane… crazy… everything they’ve done to me… enjoying the darkness just as much as I am.” The sudden madcap laughter that pierced the darkness startled him with a jolt, shattering the defenses he’d so hastily put up around him. His father had laughed much… so much… the same, on the nights when he hurt him most. The same insanity had gripped his tormentor when a thin-bladed razor slid agonizingly in burning lines over the left side of his face, slicing so deep that he knew those wounds would never really, truly heal. He didn’t know what hurt more—the cruel knife or the jabbing, mocking laughter. The horrible laughter filled his ears, overwhelming his senses—but was it his father who laughed at him? The silver runes in his hand and neck had burned, burned, were burning like fire and hell-wrought brimstone. Pain thickly laced his voice as he spoke softly, detached, as if in a trance.

 

“Fire and darkness

Doubt and pain

When will come release?

Tendrils green of growth and living

Changed for silver starry strands

Lilies white and crystal roses

Sheen of glass

Mirrored the softly shifting colour

Of the winter’s eldritch light…”

 

He trailed off, slowly regaining a sense of his surroundings. A shudder passed through him and then he fell still.

 

He gazed in the mirror, raising a hand to his face to touch the bloody lines. Pain lanced through his face, drawing hot tears to his eyes and a soft hiss of agony from his lips. ”I don’t understand,” he whispered. His father no longer seemed to have any reason for hurting him, save that he enjoyed it. It was his art, his profession, his hobby, to inflict such pain on his son that the boy longed for death. His father liked to see him miserable, he realized. In that moment he no longer feared the bats, nor the spiders and snakes—they were just animals, trying to survive. There was nothing sinister or demonic about them. He touched his face again, then the motifs cut into his forearms, wincing as he traced the cruel gashes.

 

But he knew he now believed in demons.

Edited November 28, 2011 by Elsendor

[Odio]

Gregor shook his head, and decided not to be interested. The kid wasn't paying him any attention, anyway. Honestly, at first he'd felt bad for him. He seemed to be going through something traumatic, though what it was, Gregor couldn't tell. If it really was voices in his head, Gregor wasn't sure he felt safe locked in this room with him. He would have to stay on his guard until someone came to let them out.

 

He turned his back on Sen, willing himself to stop worrying over him. He succeeded at not caring, but he couldn't help himself from hearing Sen's sobbing. He hung his head for a brief moment, grimacing. The sound was so childish and pathetic that it pulled at his heart, yet, it annoyed him that much more. Briskly, he took long strides over to the bathroom in the corner. Everything in here was very nice and well-to-do. His home in Pennsylvania was somewhat upscale, in a rural cottage sort of way, but this place - this place was something else. It was just a guest room, but he could tell there was some power behind the owner of this estate. For that was what it must be: an estate. Not a house, not a cottage, not even a home. Based on all the people he'd seen hurrying about downstairs, Gregor guessed that it must be some sort of base of action, like a headquarters or something.

 

After only a few steps, Greg caught sight of the biscuits on the table. They looked stale, but his stomach grumbled so loudly that he could actually feel it caving inside him. He changed direction, and approached the little cabinet cautiously. He didn't trust food left for him from captors, but his stomach grumbled again. He took a few bites, and forced them down. Ugh, he thought. They were worse than he'd expected. What kind of cook was this that they'd make such horrible food in such a rich place? He turned away from the plate and dropped the crumbly cookie back down with the rest of the pastries. He didn't even care that he'd put it back with the untouched ones - the one he'd tried was stale enough that he hoped nobody would try the rest.

 

He drifted over to the bathroom again, not as hurried this time, and pulled his hair out of its ponytail. He stood in front of the mirror, and gazed at himself for a moment, taking in his new appearance - the greened scales; the faintly red-brown eyes; his darkened, clawed hands. A crash rumbled outside, and in the back of his mind Greg knew there was a storm. He thought for a moment of the rain and wind, and something within him seemed to call out, subtly. He didn't even feel it, but it was there, still barely waking inside him. Though his mind was oblivious, his body felt something, like a tautness, before a great leap. He stretched. He reached up, with his hands together above his shoulders. He let his head hang down, and he arched his back. He felt his bones pop, and the little fledgeling things sprouted from his back again. He felt the membranes hanging, raggedy. He felt repulsed by his own body. He flapped them meagerly. He doubted they could catch air under them. What was the point of wings if they couldn't even fly?

 

He turned and looked at them in the mirror. His disgust ebbed away, mildly overcome by curiousity, and then fascination. He could actually feel them on his back, like new appendages! He shrugged his shoulders up, practicing moving them, and then relaxed them down again. It was actually a strain to move them. He felt like he'd exercised, his breathing was heavy a little. He concentrated, and watched as the hanging things melted back down into his skin, the membrane first, and eventually the bones last. He noticed something odd, then, like a decoration or design in his skin. He back up toward the mirror, craning his neck to look at his back, holding his shirt up with his hands at his shoulders. There was a faint outline along his back, sort of like brackets or squiggles. They weren't quite exactly identical, but they did mark exactly where his wings had melded back into his scaly skin.

 

He shook his head, and bent over the sink to wash his face and drink some water. It was cool and refreshing after such an odd occurence. This entire day was plain weird, from start to finish. Gregor walked to the empty bed. He spared a glance for Sen, but looked back at the door. He stared moodily at it, waiting for it to open, and fell into the soft cushions behind him.

 

 

~~~~~*

 

 

Deep down in the dungeon, Gordon gave up trying to see through the dark. After awhile, his fear of creeping things faded away too. He leaned against the iron bars, and the cold began to pierce his skin like it should have before. He shivered in his thin t-shirt, and after a moment he sank to his knees. He grasped the bars, and leaned his head against the cell door. At this point, he'd lost hope. He was defeated. The cold was aching under his skin and against his hands. His clothes were damp and uncomfortable, and he had absolutely no reason to be kept down here in this cold dark dungeon. He wondered where the others had been taken. Maybe they were being subjected to an even crueler fate. He forgot that they had been in a nicer carriage. Alone, in the dark, with nobody around but the unconcious bodies, Gordon began to cry. He'd never encountered anything like this. It was so cold, so dispassionate. Why did they hate him so? What had he done, but everything they'd asked?

 

A spark lit in his head, and he rocked back from the biting cold of the iron. They had the wrong guy. They thought he was the one that had electrocuted that man! Of course! It all seemed so clear to him now! Soon, they would come, and he could set them straight. It would probably take some convincing, but he was good at that. They would see. Soon, they would come. Soon...

 

He leaned against the gross dungeon wall, and felt the coolness wrap him up lovingly, like a blanket. He'd backed away from the iron door without meaning to, and his fae blood pumped blue and brisk in his veins afresh. In his throat, they glowed for a moment, a steely blue, as his breathing slowed and deepened, but then the color faded back to a purer white. Soon, over and over, the word filled his head, and he drifted off to sleep.

 

~*~

 

"Wha-??" he woke a few hours later, jerking upright. He noticed a few things immediately, through his groggy confusion. Firstly, he heard the strangest sounds. An eerie call was echoing around him. It was forbidding and hypnotizing. Underneath the high pitched screeches, he heard a muttering male voice. It was saying strange and dramatic words, like a chant or a prayer, or something. Gordon couldn't tell what the voice was saying, and he didn't know why that other voice was calling out like that. It frightened him, and he hastily rose, sliding up the grimy walls. He felt the murky surface slither against his back, and shuddered in pure disgust. With the shiver, though, and the sudden stand, he felt a wave of pain bash over him, and he clutched the wall not only in fright but also from sheer shock. He was aching all over from sleeping in such a weird place, and his mind and body reeled.

 

He stumbled, away from the wall. His arms wheeled out before him, and he fell, clumsily. "Ah!" he cried out, and hissed in pain. His knee was bruised. He clutched it, seething and rolling in the mucky floor. Vaguely, he realized the odd noise echoing everywhere was the sound of laughter. It was probably the scariest laughter he'd ever heard. He stopped rolling around as the initial pain from his knee faded away, and the dull ache in his neck and back, legs, arms, and every other part of his body faded in. He scootched up to a sitting position and noticed something in his sight. It was a faint silvery-something. He squinted his eyes. He could barely make it out, it was so dark. The shrieking laughter echoed around him, and finally his temper broke.

 

"Enough!" he shouted. He couldn't think straight with all that noise.

 

 

~~~~~**

 

 

"Agh!!" Gregor woke uncomfortably, with a bright white light shining over his eyes. He lifted a hand to cover them, and sat up. He hadn't even realized he'd been asleep. What time was it? He could hear banging, and movement in the hall. Beyond that, he heard faint shrieks and yelling. Something was happening. He blinked away the bleary sleep from his eyes and pushed himself out of bed. He felt light on his feet with the urgency in the air.

He glanced over to Sen, and then pulled his shirt on and made his way to the door, still blinking from the light. He had his hand on the doorway, and he leaned out into the hall, a tall green and brown figure. His hair hung around his face.

 

He saw the others all coming out of their rooms, and a figure he hadn't yet met. She was a girl, a very beautiful one, and she looked tall and strong - and pissed. He furrowed his brow. He was tired of all the bull****.

 

"What the heil is going on around here!" he demanded. He didn't feel the least bit tired anymore.

[Mangaholic]

Even in the midst of her own hysterical laughter, Alina could still hear the whispers of the dungeons - the whispers of the tormented souls who had passed their lives away in this godforsaken place - could still feel the caresses of the breeze - the caresses of lost spirits wrapping hopelessly about her. This time, however, she didn’t care. She no longer felt lost in that darkness. In fact, it felt to her as if it were her only home, the only place left where she could belong, now that the only person who had ever truly understood her had left her all alone in this cold, wintry world.

 

No more tears rolled down her cheeks at the thought of her brother. There were no more left. Her heart had wept them all out and left her soul an empty cavern, with nothing at all to fill the hollow void. What was there to fill it with, when no one cared enough to try? Her heart had shed every single remaining tear left to her in that bleak, bleak darkness and then crumbled to ashes and dust in the heartless apathy of the wind. The only hope of the young raven girl returning to her senses would be to vanquish the happy shadows and pain that resided in her soul and bless her soul with unwilling sunlight; but alas, the only sunlight that could do so would be the return of her dear brother, and the world is never merciful enough – if ever it is – to grant such a wish. Rather, the world enjoys watching such wretched souls drown in their own misery. Such is the way of this cruel, pitiless existence.

 

The whispers suddenly cleared, giving way to a single soft voice, weaving its way painfully through the darkness. And strangely, Alina paused, striving to listen though it never occurred to her that the voice belonged to a living person. It never occurred to her that there was another living soul in this horrid place. It never occurred to her that she herself was still alive.

 

The voice trailed off, disappearing into the shadows just as the other murmurs of this place had done, and for some reason unknown to her, she also began to speak again, without thinking. But then again, from the moment that the scornful voice in the back of her head had returned to her the memory of her hateful mother, she had ceased to think for herself. Her thoughts seemed to be the thoughts of someone else.

 

“Hope, hope is lost

Never again to be seen

For roses have grown in these ashes

Gripping our flesh with unrelenting thorns

And how we scream as they hold us down

How we scream as darkness grips our eyes

And frost grips our tongues

How we scream in torment

That hope is lost, forever lost

In this battle of hatred and pain

Brought upon us by –“

 

Alina broke off as an angry, disgruntled voice cut through what remained of the strange poem that she had murmuring in the darkness. Now, it occurred to her that there was someone else- someone living – in the darkness with her, and she wasn’t sure if she was unpleased or simply amused.

 

Her head snapped in the direction of the voice, overlooking the slightly glowing figure. Perhaps she had noticed that boy shrinking against the wall, but she paid him no heed. The voice had not come from him; it had come from someone else, someone Alina was more interested in.

 

She licked her lips, tasting the salty iron flavor of blood upon them. She could see, in the pitch black darkness, the faint outline of another boy, the one the voice had come from. She stared closely at him, and another laugh erupted from her. She could feel his irritation, as well as a hint of confusion and fear, pulsing from his body, and it filled her with warmth, strengthening her somehow. It was as if she had just found a cup of water amidst a vast, waterless desert and poured it down her parched, swollen throat. A small smile played on her lips as she realized just how hungry she was.

 

“Ah, forgive me,” she purred in a mockingly courteous tone. “I never realized that there was another with me here.”

 

She stood up, somehow managing to avoid using her right hand to help her up, as if she knew that it was broken and of no use to her in its current condition. She peered down at the young man that she had been addressing, and she could smell the delicious blood pulsing through his body beneath his skin, or perhaps she simply fancied the intoxicating aroma. She licked her lips again, dying to sink her teeth into the boy’s flesh. She thought nothing of murder and killing now. She would tear apart a hundred humans to quench her hunger with their blood. Not a sliver of human sense was left to her, only the undeniable thirst for blood.

 

But she managed to hold herself in check, just for now, at least. There was a chance that this boy, whoever he was, would prove to be useful, and he wasn’t, well then she would have a meal. A nice, warm, fresh meal. The smile grew upon her face at the thought of crimson blood running over her hands. Crimson blood. She scarcely stopped to remember the sight of Fane with blood overflowing at his throat. It was as if that memory had never existed. But then again, how would it, if Alina was not herself at the moment?

 

“I’m so terribly hungry right now.” Her voice somehow sounded both childishly innocent and harsh at the same time. “You wouldn’t happen to know how to get out of this dreadful place now, would you? Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to settle with whatever’s here with me now.”

 

Her final words were chilling, at least to anyone who could register their true meaning, but the voice in which she spoke was frightening enough. Her left hand wandered to her face, where her talons tapped softly against her scarlet lips in anticipation. The anticipation of a wolf awaiting its prey to falter and make the wrong move so that it could make its kill and bury its muzzle in warm, delicious flesh.

 

Her jet black eyes glinted sinisterly in the darkness as she impatiently awaited the boy’s reply, waiting for him to make the wrong move so that she could kill him.

[lilyice]

In a matter of seconds, Kathy felt someone approach her from behind. The voice that spoke indicated that Danni had also awoke, and was now in the hallway with her. Her roommate’s whispered question sent a sudden surge of annoyance through the blonde. Her head whipped back to face the taller girl with her amber eyes narrowed and her shoulders tensed. “How the hell should I know?!” Kathy snapped. Her own voice was harsh and dry, not sounding quite as aggressive as she had meant it to sound.

 

She regretted those words as soon as they left her mouth. A wave of guilt hit her, making her look down in shame. After all, Danni was just confused as she was; it wasn’t the girl’s fault for asking a question anyone would have asked in a similar situation. Kathy was just… agitated. The screams, her dream, this place – they didn’t help at all. She wanted to know what was happening. Her toiling emotions were bottled up right now in a bottle with a very loose cap, just waiting for the right moment to explode and pour themselves out the brim – and that moment wasn’t far away. Kathy felt like bawling, laughing hysterically, and screaming at the top of her lungs, all at the same time, which was a sure sign of craziness if she ever knew one.

 

With a deep breath and great care to control her temper, the blonde looked back to the cream-haired girl. “Sorry about yelling like that. I just… don’t know. The answer to your question, that is.” For the first time in years, Kathy found herself hesitating in a sentence. What happened to that certainty, that sureness, she always had? Nothing was going right today. A sudden urge to go home and drag her bed sheets over her head so that she could avoid the entire world and its problems overwhelmed the teen.

 

Stop whining, you idiot. Get a hold of yourself. You-

 

Greg came storming out of his room, interrupting the blonde’s self-reprimand. Kathy dully remembered that he was the one who had those wing things grow from his back before. The boy was also clearly angered by the situation that they’ve found themselves in, with no explanations whatsoever from their hosts.

 

“I doubt you’re going to get an answer to that. They-“ the blonde jerked her finger to the beautiful raven-haired girl, “-don’t seem inclined to give us one,” Kathy replied sourly, pouring all her frustration and disdain into her tone.

[Kira1]

When Kathy snapped at her after the question was asked, Danni was ready to snap right back. But before she could say anything she saw Kathy look down, seeming to be feeling guilty about what she just said. Danni waited to see what the other would say since it seemed like she was just frustrated with everything that was going on. Couldn't really blame her either, now that Danni paused to think about it. She was practically on wits ends just like Kathy, though it seemed Kathy was just a bit worse. Kathy then apologized, saying she didn't know answer to Danni's question. There was hesitation in her voice and Danni looked at her worriedly.

 

Someone then hurried out of their room, interrupting them for a brief moment. Danni looked to him for a moment before turning back to Kathy, listening as the other spoke again. Danni was pretty sure she was right about that. The other two seemed to be involved in their own thing and were too busy to bother with Kathy or Danni. Which seemed quite rude to Danni, but now wasn't the time.

 

"I thought things would be explained somewhat when we got here, not get shoved into rooms with no instructions on what's happening," she sighed, "why the hell did I come along..."

 

Danni was now regretting her decision. She should have just ran when she had the chance instead of climbing into the stupid carriage. From now on, she would try to stay away from strange people with carriages and flying horses. It seemed that nothing but bad things would follow it. Where were those that had brought them here in the first place? To Danni it seemed that those screams were quite loudly and that anyone around the place would be able to hear it.

 

Though next time she met them, she would demand answers from them. First time she tried to get them to answer her they wouldn't, saying they would explain later once she went with them. Well, she went with them and it was later now. So where were her answers?

[RheaZen]

Sen had managed to crawl into the unoccupied bed - his roommate, whoever it was, had already taken one. He didn't notice much besides the voices. Curling up, he whimpered again and tried in vain to sleep. The noise was just so annoying... and that was an understatement. However, exhaustion eventually overtook him, and he fell into a restless slumber.

 

*Whispers*

"You can't even shut up when I'm asleep?" Sen looked around. He was in the middle of a forest - redwoods, it looked like. Not that he'd know. He'd only seen pictures of them from postcards and photographs, usually about Cali and visiting or tourism and what. It was eerily silent, save for the constant whispers of the plants around him. It seemed less irritating, though. He stood up from the stump he'd been sitting on, glancing back to see the rings on it. How old was this? Two hundred years. Sen started and looked around, but it was only trees and other plants on the ground. "Figures," he said huffily, before setting out through the forest.

 

It seemed like hours, and he wasn't out of the forest. Tired, he sat down on a stump. He frowned and bit his lip. The voices were still all around him, and were becoming increasingly irritating. "Shut up!" he shouted, his voice becoming quickly swallowed by the leaves, bark, and leaf litter around him, dwindling into silence. Into... silence?

 

Silence.

 

He stood up again, blinked, then laughed. "Quiet at last!" As he began to start walking again - he never wanted to see a green plant again, ha - he glanced back at the stump he'd been sitting on. An odd thought occurred to him - How old was this? Two hundred years. Sen swiveled on his heels and looked around again. Voices all around him, whispering things he couldn't understand. Damn, those voices were annoying! And why did this all seem so familiar...?

 

"Argh!"

 

Sen twitched, then squinted as he realized the room was much lighter than he'd last seen. He remained curled up, too exhausted to move or even to make a sound. Even though he'd slept, it felt like he'd not gotten any rest at all. His legs ached, and he could still hear those voices on the edge of his hearing. He heard his roommate get up and walk out, then voices from the hallway. Voices, always voices. He closed his eyes again. He didn't remember having any dreams, but maybe he'd be able to get some peace and quiet in one...

[Elsendor]

• • • • • • • • • • • • • 

You will know true beauty when you see it, because there is a fine line, if any at all, between beauty and terror.25th of June, 2010

The dungeon of the Aileach Estate

 

“Hope, hope is lost

Never again to be seen

For roses have grown in these ashes

Gripping our flesh with unrelenting thorns

And how we scream as they hold us down

How we scream as darkness grips our eyes

And frost grips our tongues

How we scream in torment

That hope is lost, forever lost

In this battle of hatred and pain

Brought upon us by –”

 

The words uttered by that terrible voice struck him like a wall, shattering the glowing images of his dream and scattering them into oblivion. A new scene dawned on his inner eye…

 

Blood. A scarlet river roared through the streets, splashing dark stains on the towering buildings that confined it. Cars, signs, children and animals were swept up and hurled against windows and concrete walls, a horrific chaos of gore and destruction under a dark, brooding sky. He saw his mother, the social worker, the tattoo artist and the horses and the woman with the whip, all caught up and dashed against the sides of the Twin Towers—a vague memory of planes and flaming ruin flashed across his memory and vanished as suddenly as it had come. The flood barreled towards him, terrible and inexorable, and he was powerless to run. Once again he was strung up by his wrists, helpless, fully at the mercy of his father and the forces of evil that crashed and broke around him. Once again he tasted the heavy flavor of fear, metallic and slippery as blood. But as the frothing red neared him, waves breaking forty feet above like a sickening tsunami, it began to grow sluggish, and he was aware of intense cold, seeping down to his bones. The towering waves were frozen in place, scarlet as roses against the white snow that fell trembling from the darkening clouds above. A frozen droplet of blood shattered on the ground, and then the same silence loomed over the city. This time there was no peace, no beauty in the frozen stillness. All was cloaked in shadow as sheets of ice crept slowly up the side of the Empire State Building, climbing, climbing to the top of its narrow spire to catch and hold and destroy the sun…

 

“Enough!” shouted a voice as if from afar, scarcely registering in his tormented mind.

 

There was no light, for Darkness had taken the earth and made it subject to his will. His father loomed over him, leering. Tall as pine and pale as death. His white-blond hair gleamed despite the darkness. Against such pallor, his blue eyes burned like coals, the exact shade Concord had seen mirrored in his own eyes when he awoke knew he would never be free of his father.

 

“You poor little demon’s bαstαrd. You poor idiot. Did you really think cold and frost and a world all frozen through could save you? Did you really think it would bring you peace?

 

He saw his mother’s grave, the lily-white headstone he had so painstakingly engraved when his hand was still to small to hold the tools properly. The pale blue forget-me-nots were gone, replaced by crystalline, colourless blooms that mocked him with their empty stare. The daffodils were yellow no more. White as snow, they turned no more towards the sky, for the sun no longer rested on that high shelf to beckon them upwards. And the stone, the marble headstone—it was cracked in two, shot through with tendrils of ice that spread over its surface before his eyes, and slowly it began to crumble.

 

“Forgive me,” purred the terrible voice, calling to mind the image of his father by the terribly sane madness that saturated its substance. “I never realized that there was another with me here.” He cast his eyes about wildly but in vain, striving to see where the voice came from and terrified of what he might see.

 

Nothing but darkness. He could hear his father’s heavy footsteps pacing around him like a panther ready to strike, chillingly sane. His father was never drunk when he tortured him.

 

His wrists ached, and he knew this time when he was let down, they would be lifeless for longer than just an hour. The waiting, the blindness, the helpless knowledge that he did not know where his father was right now… the torment rivaled the pain that would come when at last his father deemed him ready for his cruel treatment.

 

Light! He must have light!

 

“I’m so terribly hungry right now.” A shudder racked his frame as paranoia filled in the details left unstated in that simple sentence. Somehow, he was sure, somehow the owner of that voice could see him, though in the oppressive darkness that dwelt—as if a living thing, dwelt—in this place, he was as blind and helpless as in the hands of his father. His wrists began to throb. He stared dumbly at his hands, faintly glowing still though he could see nothing else in this cursed darkness. Add that to the list of ecstasy’s gifts, he thought inanely, Light where there isn’t any. Automatically he pulled a pair of fingerless gloves from his pocket and slid his hands inside, unaware that the light vanished when the black fabric covered his hands. He had one brace half-strapped to his left wrist before a dull, but fierce pain grew in both wrists and forced him to let them drop. After that incident in the tree, he wasn’t surprised.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to know how to get out of this dreadful place now, would you? Because if you don’t, I’ll just have to settle with whatever’s here with me now.” He moaned softly, but whether it was from fear or from the sudden rush of cold that overwhelmed him, he could not be sure. Though he had been fine, comfortable even, in the damp chill of this place, he was suddenly aware that he was too cold, all the heat of his body gone. He caught a glimpse of a horrifying, bloodstained girl, a boy whose impossible pale, ghostly features drew him somehow, and in the shadows another boy, indistinct. Surprise at the sight registered briefly in his numbing mind, though he wasn’t quite sure why, and then the numbness overtook him and he curled in on himself like a sleeping child, senseless.

 

[better bring Ree and Hadyn quick. He’ll die of hypothermia otherwise. If anyone happens to touch him, his body temperature just dropped about twenty degrees below normal, Fahrenheit. Since he’s not all faerie, he’s in danger.]

Edited November 28, 2011 by Elsendor

[Odio]

Gordon was standing only a half a foot from the stony wall when he'd clenched his fists and cried out, "Enough!" The response he'd received was somewhat satisfying - the maniacal laughter had dissipated, and the strange chanting faded, too, but he was still locked in a cage, in the pitch black, and with no sound reason to be there. Certainly all the confusing sounds had gone, but his frustration was still there. It didn't help that his body was aching all over from sleeping the evening away on a stone floor, and that he had splotches of grime and muck from the cell dried onto his skin and clothes. He was getting worked up and angry, and his breath was hard and heavy. In his upset state, every exhale issued cold air from his lungs.

 

He heard the soft voice of a child. He jerked his head up, and with the quick movement, a whiff of cold air shuddered off of him. He didn't notice, though. He was oblivious to the cold temperature of the cell. He felt cold, but it seemed perfectly natural to him. When he had been standing closer to the iron door, the cold had begun to freeze him up uncomfortably, but now he felt much better. Except, he was still frustrated, confused, and very much afraid.

 

He squinted into the dark, but he couldn't make out much. He thought he saw movement, but he couldn't be sure. Then the voice spoke again, and Gordon took an involuntary step backward. He found himself braced up against the wall, ready to fight, or flee. This thing had the voice of a little girl, but the growl beneath it suggested something else. Had they thrown him down here with a vampire? Was that what this was? Gordon mentally screamed at himself for being so dimwitted and trusting. He knew better! How could he have gone along with strangers so easily?

 

There was a sudden flash of light, white and cold. His eyes sparkled for a second, but he made out a girl, covered in blood and pale and sick-looking. Her eyes burned black, and feathers were drifting in the air around her. Gordon knew who she was. She was the girl from the carriage, the one he'd tripped over a few hours ago when he'd been stumbling around in the cell. He squinted his eyes again, this time in concentration. If she was in the carriage, she was some sort of half-breed, like the rest of them. Maybe she was a blood faery, or a half-vampire, because she certainly sounded hungry enough.

 

The blast of light had been accompanied by a blast of cold, just as sudden and fleeting. It brought Gordon clarity, and resilience. He felt like the cold solidified him against the darkness, froze his bones against the ache in his muscles. He looked down at his white hands, and looked back up at where he knew the girl was standing in the darkness. He thought he could see her vague outline, now that he knew where she was.

 

"What makes you think I'm not hungry too?" he asked. His voice had a challenge in it, but it was a subtle one. There was no way out of this cell, as far as he could tell. Better to keep calm then let the hostilities explode - he'd seen what had happened in the park, with the electric fae-girl. With no knowledge of who or what he was, and neither for this girl before him, there would be no telling what could happen. "All I know is that they carried us down here hours ago, with not so much as a 'we'll be back later.' Who knows? Maybe they won't be back later." He repressed a shudder at the thought. He was leaning slightly forward now, tensed to jump or bolt to the side or throw a punch, or anything. The girl had looked casual, as though she was only making idle chatter, but Gordon knew better. He could feel her sizing him up, like he was a juicy steak fresh off the grill. Well, this steak could talk, and if it came down to it, he would do what he had to do.

 

 

[Mangaholic]

The wait was too much for Rhiannon to bear, too much. Furious hisses crept through her clenched teeth as she impatiently paced the hallway, willing the hybrids to awaken and take note of the urgent matter at hand. It wasn’t that she cared at all for their welfare – they could die the worst deaths possible for all she cared – but she had already been useless enough and she didn’t want to fail her end of the plan when she was being depended on so much. Her pacing rapidly increased into stomping, making obvious her agitation and frustration.

 

It was only a matter of seconds before a hybrid, a petite young woman with fair hair, emerged from one of the rooms, followed by her roommate, a silver-haired girl, but it seemed like an eternity to Rhiannon. The blonde stopped short in front of Rhiannon, gazing in horror upon Rhiannon’s continuously bleeding arm, something that Rhiannon herself had come to forget about in the midst of her anxiety. Rhiannon wanted to snap at the girl, to tell her to stop gawking at her like that, but before any words could leave her mouth, the silver-eyed teen approached the blonde from behind, asking her what was wrong.

 

Soon, two other hybrids emerged from the rooms, this time a rather green boy who challenged Rhiannon in height and another smaller boy with a mop of green hair. With the exception of the green-haired child, the hybrids that were present in the hallway made no attempt to hide their annoyance.

 

For the most part, Rhiannon ignored them, but what little remained of her patience quickly drained away when the spiky-haired blonde jabbed a finger at her in accusation. Her dark eyes flashed angrily at the blonde, but she didn’t move. ”Do you want to know what’s going on around here? she hissed furiously, her eyes narrowed into dangerously thin slits. ”It’s Hell, that’s what. And it’s all your fault that this is happening, so just shut up and stop complaining. I’m not obliged to explain anything to you disgraces, and besides, there’s no time for any of this.”

 

Her voice cracked at her final words, revealing her own anxiety and fear. Outside, a scream pierced the air, and Rhiannon fancied that she recognized the voice. She flinched, praying that whoever the scream belonged to was still alive. She didn’t want to do this. She didn’t want to run away like a coward. Why couldn’t she just die here, with the rest of her comrades, instead of fleeing?

 

”What’s taking the rest of them so long?” she cried, and the proud, arrogant mask began slipping away, revealing a dispirited young woman. Unbeknownst to her, the tears of rage and helplessness began trickling down her face again, and forgetting about the presence of the hybrids, she slammed her fist into the wall, funneling all of her despair into that one blow. She ignored the scream of pain in her knuckles, ignored the bloodstains that her fists had left on the wall. ”Damn it, she whispered hoarsely, turning her face to stare at the hybrids with blank, unseeing eyes. ”Damn it. Why won’t you let me do anything? Why won’t you let me help? Because I’ve failed all the other times? Why?”

 

Suddenly, she felt a stabbing pain in her heart, and she barely managed to keep from doubling over. Her hand flew to her chest, and she gasped painfully. Somewhere, in the back of her head, or maybe it was from outside, she heard screaming, horrible screaming, and then she heard no more.

 

Her vision flashed red – blood red – and then all faded into darkness.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

Alina’s cruel, derisive smile only widened, if that was possible, as she tasted the boy’s fear and frustration on the tip of her tongue. She flexed her fingers in delighted anticipation, just waiting, waiting for the boy’s reply. It irked her slightly that the boy was taking forever to answer her seemingly harmless question, but she swallowed down her irritation with a giggle on her lips. Oh well, waiting makes things taste better, doesn’t it?

 

The boy’s reply never came, at least not for this Alina, this demon, this monster. The reply never came, and Alina’s nightmares were just about to begin.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

A slight figure lay in a pool of blood, shivering not from cold but from fear and despair. Fear and despair. What else did the world have to offer but fear and despair? A woman towered over the little body, her golden curls serving as a veil around her face. Her expression was concealed.

 

The boy was slowly bleeding, slowly bleeding his life away, slowly bleeding to death. His green eyes, once so bright with livelihood, were dim, dim and cold. His red hair was drenched in blood.

 

Rhiannon wanted to scream. She wanted to scream her lungs out, wanted to tell that woman to get away from that boy, but she couldn’t. No words left her tongue. No words formed on her cold, dead lips. She wanted to move, to grab hold of that woman and stop her, but she couldn’t. Her legs were lifeless, lifeless and dead.

 

She could only stare at the boy, stare helplessly as the woman slowly knelt down beside the dying child. And what angered her most of all was not the inevitable – that the boy was going to die – but that he accepted it. There was no defiance, no anger, no resentment. There was only acceptance, a pained acceptance, and his pale, ashen face seemed almost apologetic, despite the terror engraved upon his features.

 

The woman was on her knees now, bending over the boy, covering his face with a curtain of golden tresses. Rhiannon was crying, sobbing for someone who had always ignored her, someone she barely knew. She didn’t know why, but the tears that had already begun pooling in her eyes had broken free of their bounds and spilled over her face. She wanted the boy to try to fight back, to try to stay alive, but he only laid there, his bitter acceptance clear. His eyes closed, shutting Rhiannon out.

 

Her face, damp with fresh tears that poured from sightless eyes, had drained of color. Blood dripped from her fingertips, staining the marble tiles with crimson liquid. Staining the floor with blood, with thorns, with roses. Plink. Plink. Plink.

 

The scene changed, dissolving into something new, but horribly familiar. A figure in a pool of blood. Slowly bleeding to death. Slowly bleeding away, staining the floor with rose petals, deep crimson rose petals. His red hair was drenched in blood, and his eyes were the same. The same acceptance. The same defeat. The same apology.

 

”No,” Rhiannon begged in vain. ”Let him go! Let him go! He doesn’t deserve this. Please, just stop!”

 

Her pleas went unheard. Her pleas fells upon deaf ears, upon the ears of a dead man.

 

A man, or what seemed like a man, was approaching the dying person. His fiery eyes glinted at the sight of the boy, and his lips drew back in a sneer, revealing sharp teeth. A harsh laugh broke from his lips, a blood-curdling laugh that sent shivers up Rhiannon’s spine.

 

“Well, well, well,” the man growled, passing a contemptuous eye over the unmoving figure. “Look at what I’ve found here.”

 

Long, terrifying claws emerged from his fingertips, and his face lost all traces of humanity.

 

Rhiannon’s legs were suddenly released by whatever spell had held them captive. It took her less than a second to realize it, and she began to run toward that man, desperate to reach him before he could deal the killing blow.

 

Something grabbed her hand. Pulled her back. A hand clasped over her mouth, muffling her screams. Screams that weren’t for herself but for the boy whom she had failed.

 

But the man turned around at the sound of her voice, and she could feel his burning gaze studying her as she writhed helplessly in the arms of her captor. She wasn’t sure what she felt at that moment – relief that she had managed to divert the man’s attention away from the boy or terror that the attention had been diverted to her.

 

The man smiled pleasantly at her, in such a way that told her that she was going to die. He sauntered up to her, shaking his head in amusement. His face bent close to hers, and she could feel his burning breath on her cheek as he whispered into her ear, “There’s no escape. Not now, not ever.”

 

He stabbed her in the heart.

 

…………………………………………………………

 

Light. There was so much light. It lit up the whole dungeon, blinding Alina. She gave a cry of shock and pain, stumbling backwards a few step away from both of the pale-skinned boys who were now completely visible before her. She lifted her right hand, shielding her eyes from the burning brightness, and her breath caught in her breath.

 

Blood. Her hand was covered in blood. So much blood.

 

“Alina, Alina, blood upon the cold, dead land

Alina, Alina, blood of thy kin upon thy wretched hands.”

 

No, it couldn’t be. It couldn’t be. But it was. Her hand was covered in blood. Her hand was covered in the blood of her kin.

 

Alina dropped to her knees, her hands flying to the sides of her head. She didn’t feel the pain in her right hand as she clutched at her head. Her mouth was open, and she began shrieking, shrieking horribly. The dungeon once again rang with her horrified cries

 

She was sitting on a freshly mowed lawn, with the Californian sun beating down upon her. The sky was as blue as a summer evening could offer it to be, a sure sign that the day would pass by happily, without much despair and grief.

 

The sky lied.

 

Her mother was screaming hysterically. Her cries echoed throughout the seemingly peaceful neighborhood, sending the neighbors rushing out to see the commotion.

 

Hands flew to mouths. Gasps broke free from lips. Horror rocked every expression. Every expression except one. Alina’s. There, she sat on a freshly mowed lawn, smiling coldly as she gazed upon the bloody corpse of her sister.

 

Fresh tears began pooling in her jet black eyes, and her screams only increased in volume and mad anguish.

 

Her mother was staring down at her, anger burning in her dark eyes. For a moment, she only stood there, shaking with rage and fury, and then the accusing words left her mouth, lashing at Alina like a whip: “This is your fault, Alina. It’s your fault this is happening. All your fault.”

 

The tears broke free.

 

Her head was swallowed in a frenzy of pillows, a futile attempt to drown out the sound of her parent’s heated quarrel. She couldn’t block out their words. She heard them clearly, and the anger and hatred in their voices beat at Alina harder than most anything else.

 

“…like she isn’t even your own daughter.” That was her father’s voice. “What kind of mother are you? How could you possibly treat her like that?”

 

“Oh, you’re one to talk,” her mother’s bitter voice rang throughout the house. “Don’t pretend that you even paid attention to her before Fane died. You only started to care about her after Fane died, and sometimes, I wonder at that.”

 

“Wonder at what?” her father snapped.

 

“I wonder,” her mother began slowly, venom creeping into her voice, “if you’re only being fatherly to her to spite me.”

 

Weeping weaved itself into Alina’s continuous screams.

 

Ravens circled overhead. Their pitch black feathers fluttered down from the sky, landing on Alina, cursing her. The air filled with the sound of their raucous cawing, the sound of their scornful, derisive laughter. It sounded almost to Alina that they were saying, “You were born to bring misfortune upon everyone. Accept that, because it’s what makes you who you are. You are one of us now.”

 

Alina trembled and shook her hand. ”No,” she whispered. ”No, no, no, no, no, no…”

 

Fane was staring at her with deathly eyes, haunted eyes. He reached toward her, and she cringed. His eyes flashed.

 

“This is your fault, Alina,” he snarled. “Your fault. You killed me. It’s your fault I’m dead. That’s why,” - he broke off into wild laughter – “That’s why I’m going to kill you.”

 

The screams died in Alina’s throat, replaced by terrified whimpers. She rocked back and forth on her knees, still trying to shut out the echoes of her own screams and the whispers of the dead. ”I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she cried, sobbing frantically. ”Please, I didn’t kill you. I didn’t kill you. Please! Please believe me. I didn’t kill you…”

 

…………………………………………………………

 

Rhiannon fell to her knees, gasping in shock. The pain in her heart had died away, but the horror of her visions still lingered in her mind.

 

”Hadyn,” she breathed, utter terror lacing that single word.

 

She stood up abruptly, her desperation now reaching its limits. She turned to the hybrids that were present. ”I’m leaving now,” she said, unslinging her bow from her back and carefully notching an arrow to it. ”Follow me if you want. I don’t really care anymore. I’m not going to wait for the others.”

 

She brushed past the two female hybrids, an almost mad light in her eyes.

 

Something bad was going to happen – or was already happen – to Hadyn. She was sure of it. The image of Hadyn drenched completely in blood burned in her mind, and she feared what she would find when she met Hadyn again.