Through All Darkness We Find Light

Stopping over the hill, hiding behind some brush as the voices in her visions continued to tempt her with ill-contempt. Slipping off the wet and dirty shoes hiding them underneath the brush, planning on coming back for them at a more suitable time. Apparel was not something she was used to coming upon in her home country, so she had always learned to be very tedious with the things that she has had. Bland white dress, with faded spots of yesterdays decorations hung on for memories sake. Worn old white lace gloves covered hands, cut open so they would not get caught upon any snags. Usually white socks hidden away in penny loafers that had years of stories and travels to speak of.

But now as she noticed herself, yes most of the muck has rinsed off, but there were traces of stink all around her, the side of the white satin laced dress that clung tightly, soaking wet from the trance into the riverbed. A small smirk on her lips before shifting back onto her lips, fingers rubbing against the thick dress material. Head faced down towards the ground, watching the ground shift beneath her feet like some kind of dream, as sounds of her feet rustled against the grass blades beneath, the touch of cool grass making the skin crawl once more through the entirety.

''Darkness be my guide as light fades from sight, strolling within your deepest hours.'' A small wince escaped her lips, as she quickly found a tree and laid hand upon it as she rested her body. The pain in her side was growing abnormally irritating as she continued to walk through the soft patches of grass been roots of tree's that surrounded her. Small lights, like fireflies in the tree tops, shown through and forced her head up staring into the gentle abyss of what was the castle towers. Taking a moments in it's gaze as she started to move once more through the gentle brush, the soft wind caressing through the somewhat soaked hair.

The drips of water along her back, edged their way into the wound, causing her to flinch every now and a again as she moved through the trees. Sifting her way to the end of the forest, finding herself back where it all began in the suns warm gaze as she enjoyed the outer skirts of the Castle grounds. The night was so quiet that you could hear every step around the small vicinity. Mismatched eyes searched around the small lit area, with a soft grey tinge from the moon. You could hear the jingle of the metal that hung around her neck,

That jingle, the sound of metal grinding against metal as she moved. That eerie noise of cracking metal made the spine shiver with enthusiasm of the thoughts that would go through the minds of tortures and murderers. The chains that would rattle in dungeons and caves hidden far away in deeper darker lands. Fortune only faded when those lights would slowly dim, noticing that the Castle was starting to close down more of its more common areas. The only light now was glimmering down in the pool of water that shone so brightly from the touch of the moon.

Snapping from what seemed to be twisted memories from some kind of cruel and tormented past. The nature of being to do such crimes must have been broken, cheated and stolen from the life's gentle touch of happiness and forgiveness. Breaking from these irradiate thoughts before staring into the reflection of the pool once again, this time with a shadowing shape around the figure, as if the dark night had given new sight. Sitting, she spun her fingertips in the waters and dragging them around creating circles sending them out across the pool of water.

The bloody man stumbled into the cool fresh night air. He was literary drenched from head to toe in crimson. Some of it was his and quite a bit of it was not. How he had managed to make it out of that hell alive was questionable. He had known the moment he drew the attention of those creatures he had a very small chance of surviving. As experienced of a killer the man might have been, the creatures had a massive advantage. They could see him and there were many more of them than there was of him. Dieing there in the darkness, it seemed a fitting end to a life lived in the embrace of those shadows. Still, being at a disadvantage had never stopped him before. In fact there was very little that could stop the man short of out right killing him and he was a hard man to kill. Even harder than he himself realized it would seem, after all he was still alive. At least, he thought he was still alive.

Pausing a moment to look down at the gore that covered his body he managed one of his vile smiles. Bits of matted fir, bone splinters and brain matter littered his dark clothes which were now stained a dark red. Several deep gashes criss-crossed their way over over his chest and large holes dotted their way down his right leg in what could only have been a bite mark. Feces and other rotting debris splattered its way across his entire body. His clothes seemed more rags than proper clothing, torn and ripped from the rat-like creatures. In that moment he seemed like a demon torn from the pits of hell and deposited neatly there at the exit of the tunnel.


The pain was rather annoying, most people would have been screaming or curled into the fetus position from the screaming nerve endings but once again, Sarthas was not your average person. To him, that pain was a dull throbbing compared to the mind numbingly excruciating torture his 'Teachers' had given him in the past. Shaking his head to clear the dizziness from loss of blood that invaded his mind he focused on the clear clean water of the river that spanned before him. Starting forward, his legs screamed in protest sending a fiery burning sensation searing though his mussels. The pain was a gift, it reminded him that he had made mistakes and that he should learn from those mistakes. The memory of the battle in the depths of darkness played through his mind again and he placed each wound, correcting his stance or the arc of his blades to avoid the attack. He would not make the same mistakes again. That is how Sarthas was, that is who he was. Nothing but a tool to be used, a weapon of destruction to be wielded by another. It didn't matter that his former masters were gone, the man was still the same, only without direction.


Reaching the water's edge he wadded into it and began washing the filth from his body. Letting his cloak drop and pulling his hood from his head, he washed the cowl clean than began to strip. It didn't occur to the man that doing something like that so close to the castle would have been considered improper. Such ideas were silly to the killing machine. All that mattered was that he clean and treat the wounds in the most efficient way possible. Using his now, relatively clean shirt he began to systemically scrub each and every wound. When he had finished he pulled a small box that contained a needle thread and a small vile from a pocket inside his cloak. Taking a seat on a large rock that parted the waters in the river the man went to work applying the liquid to the torn flesh and sewing the wounds closed. Completely naked as the man was, his scar crossed pale skin glowed with a near blinding radiance in the soft moonlight. The sound of rushing water filled his head with memories of a time long ago.

As he worked it was clear, had anyone been around to witness the act, that he was used to doing this sort of thing. His hands were steady as they sewed the flesh and although it must have been painful both when he scrubbed the wounds and closed them he never uttered a single sound through it all. Time passed as it always did for the man who should have been dead. His thoughts slipped to the tunnel from which he had come and the corpse of the creature he had passed near the exit. There was no trace of any other bodies that his quick search had revealed, that being the case he had to assume they had survived the ordeal. And so he had done what he was tasked to do and now he would collect his reward. But what was it exactly that he wanted to know? Strangely Sarthas couldn't answer that question. For the first time in his life he had the chance to gain something for himself but people seemed far to strange to ask such a general question as “Why did people do what they did?” So he decided it would be more efficient to come up with a few questions before he met that strange woman again.

The crisp touch of cool water against tortured fingertips played along the nerves, shock waves of euphoria escaped along the wretched bones of the night, the wounds bleeding little droplets that hit the waters surface with barely a sound. The tainted color, spreading then dissipating in the grasp of waters touch. Forgiveness was not an issue so boldly contended with in such a situation, leaving a man to die to watch himself bleed as he would make his way back to the castle. From the corners of the earth this could be for seen, the two bodies escaping from their almost imminent doom of the dungeons, forcing them to work together beyond each others beliefs. Or at least her own laws that were written in stone in the back of her mind. Never trust anyone with a perfect smile. Be wary of those that are gracious towards strangers, for hearts are torn from the soul. Simplistic things that helped one stay alive in the utmost strange situations or deceiving memories.

Memories... Like dripping medication through UV hooks indulged into the body, forcing with every drop of medicine that there are lies hidden behind clouds of forgetfulness. The pain could not be succeeded if there was always something new to remember or bring back from forgotten realms. Touches of stone, touches of people, touches of lost precious things. These are all distractions that help for-tell the strange and queer happenings of the life of Merisa-Anne. Things have always been stranger than normal, visions, voices, memories that were not her own. These simplistic things that most people see in reality, she always found in her mind. The confusion of broken hearts, dying spirits, tortured minds. For where they her own, or where they taken from someone else? Never a clue of who she really was, her was turned into blurs as these visions and memories took over the mind that was breaking down, molecule by molecule.

Sounds of water rushed into the mind, as fingertips laid still in the grasp of the pool before her. Echoes of splashing ran through her mind, for a moment before the head would turn wrecking to see what these sounds could have been. Another monster that emerged and followed her from the dungeons pits? Confusion struck the mind as fear once again took over, visions of darkness, of screams, of broken hearts filled the mind once again. For a moment before the body would raise, standing as tall as it would reach, peering over the hill from which she climbed, these sounds echoing struck the curiosity like cheese for mice.

Teetering body, leaning to see across the bushes that huddled along the hills edge the moons light reflecting against the eyes just enough to cast darkness beyond anything from those bushes. The broken heart, yearned for another relief of sounds, another hint that it was just her own mind. Visions blasted into the mind, one after another, rushing through some and en longing others. Fingers quickly grasped and rubbed against the cold metal of the ring around her neck, wondering if this was the cause of these terrible visions, of these immoral thoughts. Whatever it was, was changing her of who she truly was. Changing these moral beings, from kindness, quiet conversation. To something more along the lines, of grinning when blood was bared.

These noises forced the bare feet to step across cold cruel grass blades, pushing across this open field finding herself dragging along. The soft hum brought back to lips, as deep breaths pushed against the claw marks along her side, forcing a hand to lay against it, capturing what blood was pouring out and staining the white dress that hung so lightly. The soft hum would continue as the body pressed forth, moving into the tree's once again, enjoying their hidden touch from the darkness in the world.

The man finished his task in his usual efficient way. He had always had an unnatural obsession with perfection. Perhaps it was his upbringing or perhaps it was something deeper ingrained in his twisted mind. Whatever the case, he couldn't simply do something...he had to perform it with perfection. The sewing of his wounds was no exception. Every single stitch was carefully laid with the steady hands of a sergen in the dim moonlight and every knot had been tied off small enough to nearly be invisible. After triple checking his work he slipped from the rock, the cool current of the river breaking against his shins.

The shock of the cold took his thoughts to a place not so long ago. Whimpers of a terrified little girl screamed in his mind like the wails of a banshee. Painful beyond reason, as if the simple sound could tear the man's mind apart....a soft melody of music fought against the maddening sound of the child's suffering. Sarthas blinked, trying to free his mind of the past. The music continued, but the child began to scream in agony. Sarthas pressed his hands to his ears to try and block out the sound of the screams but the act only made matters worse. Now the music was gone and all that remained were the screams. Past became present as time fought against its own currents. The man pulled his hands away and once more the soft hum began to drown out the screams, but this time there was another sound. The gentle touch of feet against the leaf riddle forest floor brought the man crashing back to reality. Someone was close and he had been careless.

Cursing his own foolishness silently, the creature of a man wasted no time. Making his way to the shore, he checked the rags of his former clothing. Although they were now mostly clean, they were heavy with the weight of the water and would cling to him in an annoyingly restrictive, and possibly deadly way. Realizing he had made a second mistake he scowled in irritation. Wearing the cloths would only hinder him and yet not wearing them would put him at another disadvantage. The pale nature of his skin would be like a flag for anyone who cared to look. The footsteps grew closer and Sarthas made up his mind quickly. Grabbing the cloak, and only the cloak he pulled the thing over his shoulders and fashioned the clasp. It would have to do for the moment, he thought as he pulled the blades from their sheaths. Cocking his head gently to the side he listened to the sounds of the stranger, placing her. Fortunately it seemed she had been coming from the direction of the nearby castle.

Not being a complete idiot he had picked a location along the river with bushes that shielded him from direct sight of the courtyard. The idea was, he would have heard someone's approach long before they arrived, but he had not counted on being....distracted. No matter, the twisted man would adapt as he always did. Wrapping the cloak around him to hide the glow of his skin, he crouched in the shadow of the bush and waited. There was something familiar about the tone in that voice, the music of it. At first he couldn't place it but as the stranger neared and came into view walking along the trees, he at last understood. Well, well, well....look what the rat dragged in. He couldn't help but smirk at the shear irony of the situation. Had it not been so long ago that he had advised this very woman to keep her cloths on? And now....it was he that was in need of his own advice it would seem. It appeared that fate was not without a sense humor, if she wasn't such a bitch he might even welcome her company. The man's smirk twisted into his very familiar and very vile smile. Oh well, he had the company of another lady this evening and he would hate to keep her waiting.

Merisa-Ann had crossed the edge of the bushes only ten short feet away. Normally he would have been clearly visible to her if she even glanced in his direction. The moon light was soft but more than sufficient to light the area and even though Sarthas was crouched in the shadow of the brush he should have been easy enough to see....that is if it weren't for his special little gift. From a very young age the man had been able to seemingly cloak himself in darkness. To wrap himself in shadows to the point of being all but invisible to nearly anyone he had ever come into contact with. This of course gave him a rather significant advantage in his profession and along with his almost superhuman talent in the dealing of death, had kept him alive thus far. Still, he never relied on the gift alone as he knew at any moment it might fail him. She was clearly wounded, her hand pressed to her side as he white dress was stained in crimson. Perhaps a parting gift of the creature in the hallway. Her eyes were currently toward the river which gave him a few short seconds to decide what to do, but when he cough the glint of steel clasped tightly in her opposite hand and the flash of a gold chain around her neck, he only needed one.

The man moved and it was a terrifying thing to witness. Few had seen the creature of death move like this and none that had were still alive to speak of it. He seemed the darkness, so frighteningly fast yet not a whispered breath of sound in his passage. The twisted shadow of a man was the evil in the darkness, the nightmares that haunted the dreams of the innocent. His tortured and torn soul screamed for vengeance in that moment, a revenge so deep and dark that it consumed his very mind. He traversed those ten feet in a span of time that seemed impossible. The moonlight that had before radiated off of his pale skin was now consumed by the darkness of his cloak. It was almost as if the man were a creature of blackness spat up from the shadows to consume all light. Words proceeded him in a whispered hiss as a hand shot out with the flash of steel in the pale moonlight, the blade hungering for blood. “Give her to me!” Time froze, as if trying desperately to catch his breath in that moment of madness and then it was gone. As quickly as the madness had devoured Sarthas whole, it spat him back up and he found himself poised to end the woman's life. The blade in his left hand was extended out with its point twards her neck, yet had frozen mid strike.

Sarthas couldn't believe it, he had lost control. He never lost control. Not once in the long terrible years that followed the death of his humanity. The softest of breezes danced over the two figures, its kiss against his wet skin and cloak stealing what little warmth remained. The dark man stared at the woman in the silence of disbelief. At last he realized what it was that he shared in common with her. At last he realized what had vexed him so much upon their first meeting and left a thread attached to his soul in the most subtle of fate's woven strings. Death. The dead voices of the past screamed through her as if she were a doorway into the darkness the lie within his soul. With this realization he regained his composure. That awful smile twisted his lips further and he spoke once more, his voice no more than a touch of death's cold breath against the neck on a bitter winter night. “You have been keeping secrets you naughty girl.” His cloak rustled lightly in the small breeze and from her vantage point as close as she was it would be quite clear that he was naked beneath it. Though the man didn't seem to be worried about the woman seeing him as such. After all, bodies were nothing more than lives to be taken. The subtleties of companionship were lost to the twisted man, if he had ever been born with a heart it died long ago with a small girl in the hell he had called home.

Dark and light hues searched the area, staring into the vast of river and field. Taking a moment’s chill breath for the realization that nothing was there, perhaps it was her mind playing tricks again. Guilt perhaps for leaving that vicious man behind, or perhaps the chill feel that perhaps her death was in that Dungeon of smut and vile creatures. Only for a moment would she have the time to relax in the dark night cool breeze, tickling the skin like feathers against the skin. The soft hum never escaped broken lips’, it would seem it was the one way to hush the visions and voices that screamed in her mind. A name she never knew, a voice she barely recognized, a creature so dark that eyes could not find the heart beneath the hues. Massacres and torture victims strewn together like delicate pieces of a twisted puzzle.

Then from the light of the soft moons wane, came darkness came the utter feeling of becoming lost once again, in the state of mind almost child-like once again. Becoming caught within the dark peril of the dangerous creatures intake on the lost being storming the night outside the safe warmth of the Castle beyond. Blurring reincarnations of visions pulled themselves to the surface, small screams and deadly blows echoed through the mind as the lips continued to hum the old eerie tune from past remembrance. The form that took place in front of her, now forming shape into a man that rushed so quickly almost like there was no space between them to speak of in the first place. Taking a moments breath before blinking into reality, hues of opposites stared down into the portal of dark and hate. The scream from his lips shocked the body into standing there, fingers wrapped into that gold chain once again before staring at the knife held so precariously to her throat. The sight of death at hand scared the woman, but she continued to hum to hold the pains of visions and fore-brooding natures of the man into the back of her mind. When he so bluntly screamed ‘’Give her to me’’ She stared to smile before the hum returned back onto those torn lips.

Thinking for a moment on the discreet nature of the being, her head would tilt upwards into the sky looking for the face of this dangerous creature. Before long, opposite hues fell onto a familiar face causing the skin to crawl along the surface before smirking a moment, falling into this interfered reach of space. ‘’Sarthas…’’ The sound of it was from yesteryears of saying it so many times before, hearing it so many times in the past. Her voice was soft and delicate as a hand moved out to reach against the cold chain that hung so tightly around her neck. Clipping it off almost in a quick one motion before moving into his presence. The chain hung around fingertips before reaching out and pressing it against his chest. ‘’Evil speaks in many tongues, distant torture , forgotten memories. Lost of hopes, given unto dreams. Only to change from what we are, to who we are needed to be.’’ Breaking past the seal of the knife, allowing it to press against skin if that was , was needed to be. Opposite hues never once left those darkened forgotten orbs of his as she pressed the chain to his dampened cloak. ‘’What is done, is done, but can always be brought back. Lost in time, lost in space. But here it rests with some chance of life. But what is done, can not be undone. Only remember that in all darkness, there could be some light.’’

Fingertips dropped the chain against the cloak, taking a moments breath before moving back against the blade, pushing away from the form and the dark spell that ensued. ‘’Naughty girls never tell their tales of torture, don’t you know…’’ Pressing away from this dark spell, this leaning powerful being before taking a moments breath, staring across in the soft light of the moon. She figured once she found the beast of burden, and returned his lost precious key these sights of death would soon arrest from the sights of her mind. But yet that have grown stronger, hearing deeper conversations now of past remedies. Taking a moment to herself, hands reached up slowly and clasped against the temples of her head. Fingertips pressing in circular motions as the pressure of these screams could not be released. As she started to hum again, these sights continued on getting worse by the moment. Hearing things from past and present mixed into the sounds of the dead that followed her across these grassy noels.

The soft music of her voice danced over his thoughts as he listened in silence to her words. Words spoken as if she were another or perhaps countless others. Those who had come before in his life and knew Sarthas for what he was, a monster. As she tore the gold chain from her neck, its snapping seemed to echo in his mind like the breaking of a dark oath. Still he did not move, nor did he reply only listening and standing there under the sad light of the dieing moon with his arm raised and the blade held against her neck. His eyes were fixed upon her own, swimming in their depths as if this creature of death could see beyond her flesh. Even as she pressed forward cutting the tiniest of lines into that sensitive skin, he would not give ground. It wasn't until she pressed the ring and chain against the damp fabric of his cloak that he at last responded, lowering the blade and letting it hang lifelessly at his side. She opened her hand as if to rid herself of this curse she carried but the man did not reach to catch it. Instead it fell to the grass below, striking the ground like the final nail in a coffin.


That awful smile remained on his lips as he held her eyes with his own, watching her face contort in strain as she seemed to fight against something only she should be able to see or hear. And yet, Sarthas could hear them, he could see their faces. He could taste their sorrow and fear as they faced death. Some begged, hoping for mercy from a creature that could not feel. Others lashed out in anger, as if they could stop what was as inevitable as the setting of the sun. Still others simply let it come, accepting their fate and their punishment with quiet dignity. But however they chose to meet their end, Sarthas was the hand of death that delivered them. The man's soul was as black as the darkest of moonless nights, ripped and torn like a sail on the mast of a storm driven boat. It was that terrible storm that gave him strength, that forced him to press himself beyond the limits of the human body. Though the black waves crashed against his will again and again, though the evil darkness tried desperately to smother him in its heavy blanket...he would not yield. What should have destroyed him only made him stronger. He took the darkness as his own, he wrapped it about him as if consuming its substance...he became the evil.

At last the man spoke, his voice cold and distant as if he were repeating words he had heard long ago. “We are not so different you and I...” He paused a moment letting the soft hum of her music wrap its gentle notes around him in a secret pleasure that only he could understand. “But you are a flickering candlelight in the darkness and though you can see what others can not, you are forbidden to touch it.” The man's voice changed, more focused as he raped the soul of the woman across from him with his dead eyes. “For if you touch it your light will go out and you will be blinded by the darkness. Make no mistake Merisa...” He tore the last of her name from her as if he were stripping the clothes from her flesh. “...I am that darkness....and no matter the light you shine upon me you will only find more of the same.” Taking a single step back, the man knelt without taking his eyes from her as if they were bound to the woman in some unexplainable and sickening way. Twisting the hilt of the knife in his left hand sideways, so the blade jutted out from the bottom of his hand instead of the top, he caught the chain with his fingers. Slowly, he stood up, lifting it so the ring hung from its golden grasp. He held the flickering steel out presenting it too her as if he were offering her a gift.

“You stumble around in the darkness, bringing your light and seeking desperately to find what it is you are looking for. What is it you seek I wonder?" The man flicked his wrist, the jingle of silver ringing clear and pure in the cold night air. "Though it may be fate that has bound you too this, it is fate that has bound me to my own destiny.” That disgusting smile widened across his pale lips. “Careful my dear flickering flame or in the end it may be the darkness...that touches you.”

Cold torture as Sarthas spoke, the voice echoing in the depths of the mind forcing disposition and unwelcome memories to fade in and out from the sight of the eyes. Only now would the woman begin to tremble in fear of scoffing the man’s disrespect, the tease of blood against skin trickling down the front of her neck. The pain was not apparent as the hand lifted and stroke against the neck, where for her adventures that piece of memories and visions had kept her side tracked for so long. The rub against the neck caused a sense of dislike within, the un nerving feeling that something was terribly wrong. Hand removed from the neck, watching into darkness as one would only see two hues staring back at her. Almost un nerving the look of cold death, but never shifting in body or in spirit as the woman could only watch his amused smile. Like that of a thief, happy but for the wrong reasons, twisted reasoning perhaps with this man.

As he continued to speak, almost in riddle or rhyme, shaking the very being of the woman as her head lifted to one particular sentence. ‘’We are not so different you and I.’’ This echoed in her mind as she searched for something more comforting for the mind to resolute rather that reform from this darkening image of despair and hate within the mind. ‘’We are so different when come to the shades that seek through the minds, there’s nothing here that holds a companion of frailty.’’ These words fell from broken lips, tainted with the sinful regret of lies and morals. In darkness there is always light, something to keep the soul from crashing into itself. Gaining composure in the darkness, feeding from the strength of the black night, hidden from the soft waning moon that held so dearly those creatures below. The echoes of night ceased for a moment before the light would begin to flicker.

‘’Perhaps these lights, that flicker in the dark night. Perhaps these memories, the gorge into the soft forgiveness shall continue. Perhaps these thoughts, can be never ending.’’ The eyes would fall from the man, staring at the gold chain that was lain at his feet. Before to long, those mismatched hues fell onto the darkening shadow and could only smile before taking a breath of sigh and falling to her knees in one quick motion. ‘’Perhaps these memories, these thoughts, these feelings should continue to breathe life as it tears down another moments rest.’’ Fingers wound and reeled the chain into fingertips, lifting it with the ring hanging like a pendulum in a clock always ticking back and forth. ‘’In fate we find mystery, in mystery we find conclusion.’’

‘’ I will stumble across the forsaken lands, of bitter memories and forgotten thoughts. Hold dear to me, what others should have held tighter in their embrace. Take what is left of a forgotten life, and bring it back from the depth of their own doom.’’ Discolored hues fell onto the ring once more, holding it within two hands as thumbs would rub gently over the surface of the ring and chain. ‘’Or perhaps I shall take what is given, and hold it secret, keep it safe keep it secret keep it mine for all of time.’’ The hum would return to those broken lips, the scars of her own memories finally seeping in through those of her fellow passengers through life. Quickly hands would move, tying the chain back around her neck where it had belonged and felt it belonged for quite some time more. Arms would cross in a curious manner, gripping either arm and fingertips ran over the tattoos on either sides of her arms, as she knew it was covering up scars from a distant path. These memories of evil men, protruding love and false adversaries within the compounds of life before the death.

Thoughts forced mismatched eyes to jet open, staring along the man as the voice continued to hum the old mystery from a past time. A smile would creep across those same lips, in a smirking fashion almost as mismatched eyes stared back into the dark hues of the Shadow before her. ‘’Forbidden to touch, forbidden to keep. Forgetting things so easily, like distant screams within the compounds, waiting for another moment from their saviors touch. Before remembering that within these dark nights, evil has spoken and awakened in yet another soul. Releasing time from break the touch of love and happiness would be no more as the tempted fate turned cruel and torturous.’’ Fingertips grasped back onto the neck, cleaning up the dripping colors of red as it fell against pale skin, the dots of red against white was quite entertaining to the woman as she pressed out her hand into the white dress, wiping them clean as only once more a smile would hold sincerely on those lips. ‘’Time will tell.’’

Once again her words played against his eardrums like dancers on a stage. So full of emotions that shifted like changes in a scene. There was fear and then doubt and happiness and despair. All of it echoed in her words shifting from one emotion to the next. He found it sad how she fought against the inevitable. How she searched in the dark paths of his soul for a glimmer of light, so desperately as if her very ideals depended upon it But she would not find it, she could not find it. To find such a weakness in the man would have utterly destroyed him, would have crumbled the foundations upon which he had built his life. He had given up everything for his one single talent, death. He was only a shadow of a human being, like a memory of a life that might have been. The chain was pulled from his grasp as she accepted his offter, like a mouse taking a piece of cheese from a trap. That awful smile only widened further as she reattached it at her neck. Perhaps she had accepted the truth after all.

She moved to grip her arms, almost as if hiding the artwork upon them, which only made the man pull the memory of them from his mind to examine them closely. After all, if there was something about them she didn't like then perhaps he could use that. As her words twisted once more, becoming dark and forbidding he only continued to smile his usual awful way. Still he would not break the self imposed silence he had forced upon himself. It was almost as If the man were waiting for something, a word or a que of some sort. Her fingers lifted to wipe away the taint of crimson upon her ivory skin. He followed those fingertips with his evil eyes, making it a point to stop and examine each and every curve that graced the woman's body. It was almost as if he were a wolf considering a rather tasty piece of meat. It meant nothing to him personally, but it was a calculated act to throw the woman off balance. To make her wonder if the creature had other motivations for arriving naked as he was. Motivations that were evil by nature and disgusting by trade.

At last she finished with a final statement that he could not deny. “Time will tell.” Time would indeed tell, it always had a way of making things fall into place. He had to admit that he was extremely curious about this woman standing before him. She was strong willed, yet soft in a strange sort of way. Perhaps like silk layered upon itself over and over again to gain a measure of resilience that should not have been. Curious as he was however, he had things to finish and a meeting to attend too. At last he spoke, his words vile and twisted into something evil that otherwise would not have been. “And so now shall we wait for time to give us his secrets? What would you do my dear Marisa, would you tell me all of your darkness?” His piercing gaze flickered to the tattoos a moment before once more finding her eyes.

His smile erupted into a toothy grin. “Or shall we embrace our darkness and our light....and dance together this evening.” The evil man slipped into a remarkably elaborate blow, as if he were mocking the very act quickly straightening once again. Before she might have a chance to respond to such a silly request the man seemed to vanish from view, appearing behind her and too her left, whispering words into her ear. His hot breath beating against her neck, driving away the cold chill of the night air. “We have danced like this before you and I...” If she chose to try and catch sight of him or not he would vanish once again to her right side his words proceeding him like a foreshadow of the darkness that would follow in their wake. “The flickering flame of the candle and the shadows in the night.” Once again he would slip from her side to stand behind her, only to appear back where he started once more. It seemed the man was dancing around her, always just out of sight, just out of reach as his words teased her in sadistic way. “We are not so different you and I...” He repeated his earlier words despite her denial as if to drive a blade into her soul with his voice. “Without light there is no darkness and without darkness....” His words trailed off into silence that lasted an uncomfortable amount of time. Suddenly he was in front of her, his face so close that his nose nearly pressed to her own, that horrible smile twisting his lips. “There is no light.” With these final words the man vanished from view once more melting into the shadows from wince he came. Leaving only the echo of his words and the cold chill of the night air to keep her company. After all, even a shadow as black as he must in time yield to the press of the light.

Broken in the night came sounds of victims screams, forcing the mind to venture off into the dark silhouette of the young women and men that died at glory hands before finding it’s way through to another moment. The visions slipping from one to the next, confusing anyone that would try hard to follow along with the hidden reason within the jumping mind. Vexed emotions filling the young woman with rage and hate, some pieces of mixed emotions like lusted vengeance bubbled to the surface. With quick antidotes of spoken rhyme’s the tune of hums would fill the void between them. Forcing thoughts of blind force enter the mind, playing tricks on the incantations of the deaths of others, soothing the tempered thoughts of blind rage and tortured beings. The sound of her voice being torn from it's meaning by this delicate creature of the night, baring a disgusted nature on the woman's name like some sort of curse of old.

For a moment the woman’s eyes would watch his step, his stance, his bow. These simplistic things he tried to pull off humanly, yet seemed to tainted with the grace of something more than human. These actions meant to be filled with certain memories, with certain meanings but yet they’ve come from a man with no warmth in his touch. Fearing the sight of the cold death forced her body to shift and squirm in spot, hoping for the sense of dread to wear off from the touches of the cold dark that surrounded their being there. His form presented the dark en fettering spirit of death it would seem, from his cold touch the frightful touch of breath along the side of her neck.

Causing for a moment, chill reminder of the past times, remembering that some forces are made to be reckoned with and others, are to look at only and to never dip the fingers in the lost taste of time. With soft motions his form ensued her, whispers of the hot breath and tortured voice echoed through the starting to empty mind. His voice was tempted darkness, surrounding over tortures of gold and silver. Like war times over costly issues, or blood spilt for nothing more than a secret memory. The sound of his voice, intriguing and it may be turned her head to the left to spot the mystery mans face. As she turned, only the sound of wind passing would be her welcome into the darkness, a small smile painted on broken lips as she heard the voice echoing from her other side. Moving slowly this time as to not let him catch. He was quick moving, and almost like he was trying to dance from the start of a bow.

‘’May you learn of the darkness, when light has been found. Only then shall true darkness shine through, when manipulation is gained, so is the skill that falls into the hands of strengthen warriors.’’ Her hum continued through as his dance pushed circles around the woman, with only a smile on her lips as a hand raised to curl fingertips into the clasp of gold and the ring. Finding herself amused in the way this man tried to fight the curiosity before naming herself the one who was tortured perhaps most in this situation. ‘’We have danced on the light of the moons frail touch, in a cold deep winters night when no others could be there to witness such a crime against humanity. It’s forsaken lost touch within the milky galaxy of colors and illusions. And thus we come to tonight, where your dance is my death. Your touch is my torture. From this you will find that in all light, carries a heavier darkness. Within all darkness, is a bitter light. ‘’

As those mismatched hues fell closed, listening to the slumber of the tone Sarthas’ voice. Taking in a moment to realize the darkness that surrounded the flickering flame at last. That these things that she said, were not things she had meant to say, perhaps a time in the past these words were meant to escape tainted lips, but to place them now would be an undying wish. ‘’There is no light.’’ Was all she heard, as goose bumps rose to the surface of her skin, watching as the darkness surrounded her one last time, allowing a break almost in ear shot to hearing glass break between the two sets of morality.

Feeling as the presence had left her once again, as mysteriously as the first and as he had said once before, perhaps not the last. ‘’There is no one.’’ Her voice fell to a whisper as she found herself alone once again, standing in the court yard. A few quick worried breaths escaped her, as her eyes watched the moon tell time from the fading clouds over head. The lights in the Castle flickering on and off, but in the distance her eyes had caught a soft blue glow. Something like water rushing off in the distance, to this she moved haste. It’s sound more fruitful than those of angels voices. The soft erratic sound that left curiosity at a blunder.