Denial

What was she doing?!

Jace clenched his fists as he watched the Entuak demon press Katarina against the bars.

That idiot! I told her to climb, what is she doing?!

The demon's screech drove a blade of fear deep into his chest.

That caused him to pause for a second.

It was impossible to him to be affected by the fear-inducing shriek of the Entuak. There was nothing for him to be afraid of. He no longer had anything left that he was afraid to lose.

Or was there.

As he watched the demon prepare for the kill, he could feel a tremor of fear pass through him and he was almost about to enter the cage when a boy pulled the demon off her.

The wave of relief was so instant it engulfed him in it's entirety, causing a light headed sensation.

This entire play of emotions puzzled him greatly.

Did this mean he cared about her?

That very thought made him shudder and he could not understand why.

No. Of course I don't.

I just don't need another dead body to bury.

Reassuring himself with that notion, he shifted into a more relaxed posture and folded his arms across his chest.

But despite what he told himself, he couldn't deny the torrent of emotions that coursed through him, growing in intensity as he continued to watch the battle.

Do You Want To Live?

Her heartbeat raced in her chest as she gripped her sword tightly in her right hand and entered the cage.

The faces were a blur.

She could see some with eyes wild with bloodlust, and the weaker ones, their eyes brimming with fear. The urge to drive her blade through their chest shook her body with a shiver of anticipation.

It was as if there had been some sort of silent cue. Just a moment before they had been sizing each other up and then before she even knew it, the fight had started.

She barely had time to recall Jace's advice as she was thrown back into the side of the cage, the cold metal bars stinging against her flesh as she winced from the impact. Blood welled up from the deep gash in her left shoulder. Gasping in pain she met the crazed eyes of another girl. One of the battle hungry ones. Fear rose up in Katarina as she realized that her sword arm was pinned against the bars and she was left defenseless.

Easy prey.

The girl already had thick black blood splattered across her face which matted her dark green hair and stained her light grey skin. Her eyes glowed eerily in the weak night light as she stared directly at Katarina. Katarina could feel chills tickle her spine and she shuddered and pulled back from the girl, as if she could escape by pressing herself harder against the metal bars behind her in an attempt to create some distance. The girl suddenly smiled, the corners of her mouth stretched in an impossible way, enlarging her mouth to a huge gaping slash in her grey face.

What was she?!

Hot breath fanned on Katarina's face and she let out a terrified scream, attempting to raise her sword arm with renewed vigor. An eerie shriek escaped the green haired girl's mouth, tearing at the air, a voice to the soundtrack of the madness and chaos of the ensuing battle. It made Katarina shake in a sudden burst of fear.

It all happened so fast she didn't even have time to blink.

The girl was dragged off her and flung into a corner by a tall shaggy haired boy. He turned to face Katarina and her thanks came out as a strangled gurgle as she watched in horror as his head separated from his torso in an arc of dark green blood.

Vomit rising in her mouth she quickly ran to the side of the cage and began to climb. Banishing the thought of that girl's terrible face and the sudden death of the boy, both of which nearly paralyzed her with horror. The boy's face forever stuck in an state of shock imprinted itself in the forefront of her mind as her hands shook and slid on the bars.

Never had she been so scared in her life.

Balance

If good exists, bad must too. If there's up, there has to be down. If there's a Hero, there must be a Villain. It's all about balance.

But then...who's to say who's good and who's evil? Isn't it up to them?

As usual, Faye Hart was completely unfocused. The wind from the open classroom window on her left slowly lifted her golden blonde hair and swept it across her eyes. She sneezed and that brought her out of her thoughts.

Lessons were a terrible bore. She didn't care about algebra and equations. She wanted to know about heros and villains, fairies and demons, unicorns and Selkies. Her imagination swept her away to where these existed and thus that was where she spent the most of her waking hours in.

I wonder...if villains really exist...

Pitch Black

The golden dust drifted past him in a shimmery stream, making his eyes cross as he followed the steady flow of glittery powder. His curiosity piqued and he raised a finger to prod it.

The minute his finger made contact with the shining stream, it stained black and spread out in a darkened, poisoned patch of darkness. He cried out in shock and stumbled back.

I touched it. I touched it. I actually touched it.

His heart picked up pace and beat enthusiastically against his ribcage. Determined to find the source of the only thing that had proved to him his existence.

He began to run, his finger lightly skimming the surface of the powder as he followed it. The powder now blackened, coiled and wound itself around the air surrounding him.

The impact was so quick he didn't even have time to react.

He was thrown back a few feet and crashed painfully into the base of a large tree. Wincing, he cautiously opened his eyes and was greeted with the strange sight of a another boy with the same golden dust flying around him in an unearthly, undulating way, shifting into shapes and then back into some sort of suspension.

Before he could utter a word the boy raised his palm and a cloud of dust sped towards him, pinning him uncomfortably against the tree. For such a harmless looking powder it sure was very...heavy. The weight of it on his chest made it impossible to move as he struggled on the ground under the scrutiny of the strange golden boy.

"What did you do to the dreams?"

Huh.

Pitch was confused. What dreams.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He gasped, the dust was pressing on his chest and it made taking breaths laborious.

The boy gestured to the cloud of black sand which hovered a small distance away from the shimmering golden one. Sudden realization dawned upon Pitch. He was the one who changed it.

"I...I touched it."

The boy looked slightly troubled for a second and murmured something under his breath that sounded like the word nightmare.

A few agonizing seconds passed as Pitch squirmed in discomfort under the crushing weight of the shimmering sand.

The boy then seemed to remember he was there and in a quick flick of his hand, lifted the mound of dust and dispersed it around him. With a small glance at Pitch who laid sprawled on the grass in an ungainly manner, he raised a leg and the dust swirled and formed a solid looking shape under his feet. Watching in awe, Pitch slowly got up and stood facing the golden boy.

"Wait. You're the first person I've spoken to...who's actually seen me...since...since I ended up here. Don't go!"

The golden boy turned back to survey Pitch with that unfathomable gaze of his. Taking his silence and attention as a cue to continue speaking, Pitch exclaimed, "I don't even know your name!"

The boy paused.

"Sandman."

And with that he turned back and mounted that pile of dust under his feet, slowly, he was lifted into the sky in a haze of gold.

"No...don't go. I'm confused!"

But the boy was too far to hear anything and Pitch's cries were left unheard.

Dejected, he let out a slow sigh and turned around only to see a small cloud of black dust floating in the air in front of him. Smirking, he thought to himself, 'Heh. He left behind some.'

Slowly he raised his hand and as if by magic, the cloud swirled around his finger tips in a shimmering shadow.

An odd feeling welled up in his chest.

A feeling of companionship.

I'm not alone anymore.

Finally, I have something to call my own.

Satisfied with the dust which he sifted through with his fingers, he laughed loudly, his entire body shaking.

Why was he feeling happy?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that he didn't actually know.

Purpose

In life most struggle to find their purpose. Everyone is put in the world for a reason, we just have to find it.

But after wandering and searching for more than a few hundred years, he was near giving up on trying. Alone. Isolated. He simply did not know why he was alive. He was no longer human. A fragment of a person maybe.

Pitch Black closed his eyes and rested wearily on the tree behind him. Standing at the edge of a cliff that overlooked a small town, he felt so insignificant in the midst of so many small bright lights, so lost in a world so foreign.

The stars in the night sky, winked at him as they shone and lit up the dark night. If possible that made him feel even more alone.

No one could see him. It was as if he didn't even exist.

Even the stars seemed to be mocking him with their bright existence.

To be recognized. That was all he wanted. The affirmation that he actually did exist.

The smoky clouds shifted a fraction and the luminous light of the moon enveloped him in it's entirety. Raising his eyes to the moon, he took a deep breath and yelled with all his might.

"WHY DID YOU PUT ME HERE FOR!?"

The moon remained silent. Taunting him almost, as it continued to glow and yet remained painfully silent.

"WHY?!!"

The years of frustration built up and exploded in a loud roar of anger. There was no point in watching his volume. No one could hear him anyway.

The silence was deafening.

Fists clenched, heart heavy with despair, he crumbled to the grassy ground.

Someone. Anyone. Just...

Prove to me that I exist.

"I am well suited for erasing, fading into hazy and sinking strong."

Take One

*click*

"Ok, chin up and give me that glare...mhmm ok, great!"

*click click*

Aquila lifted her chin and channeled her energy into delivering that piercing glare she was famous for, her eyes even more intense due to the smudged, smoky eyeshadow. Lips gleaming with deep plum colored lip gloss, slightly parted as she raised an eyebrow slightly and froze in her position. Her pearl white off the shoulder Grecian style dress draped her body and contrasted with the dark cherry red spill of her hair messily arranged to highlight the angles of her face. Cheekbones prominent due to the light brush of bronzer, Aquila Vera did indeed live up to the high standard she was renowned for.

Slowly raising her leg and gracefully arranging her arms, she lowered her torso down on the white sheet and faced the camera on the right, once again delivering the same attention-absorbing intensity.

*click click*

"Ok and that's a wrap! Beautiful shots Aquila!"

She raised her painted lips in an alluring half smile and all but purred her thanks before getting up and making her way to the make up removal station.

One of the most prestigious models of that era, Aquila was widely acclaimed for her adaptability and wide range of expressions. Despite all that, as she stared at the face in the mirror she could not conjure up a proper emotion.

Empty on the inside.

Enticing moss green eyes stared back at her from the beautiful bronze toned, plum lipped, angular face in the mirror. Her hair, recently cropped close to her face was a glossy shade of cherry red and enhanced the green of her eyes.

Her eyes were empty. Her eyes were the windows to her soul and they were darkened by the empty blackness that had long engulfed her fragile soul.

Who was she?

Gone were the days where the carefree nymph of a girl had spent hours on end just reveling in the company of her other half. They had been inseparable.

And then that happened.

He became unrecognizable.

Catapulted to fame by his good looks and husky voice, he was soon molded into what everybody wanted to be and see...and yet everything that she couldn't recognize.

In order to be in the same world she had worked like crazy to be where she now was.

And yet, despite of everything she did, she could never be a part of his world anymore.

So, this was the result.

A goddess.

Beautiful, renowned, adored and admired. One of the goddess's of the modeling world.

And yet she was so empty inside.

An empty husk of the person she lost to become the person she needed to be.

Who was she?

Who had she become?

She wished she knew.

Fight

The way the wind howled that night filled her with apprehension. What was happening?

Their destination was a huge cage. Sleek, silver metal rods surrounding a huge, black, glossy-looking arena of sorts. The wind stung her eyes and whipped her dark hair around her face in a frenzy as she gripped the arm of the tall boy beside her.

His lips were firmly pressed against each other and bloodless against the pallor of his skin. His dark hair too was in a mess after being subjected to the wrath of the wind. Red and blue mismatched eyes met her own as Jace swung her around to face him.

"Do you know what to do?"

His voice was velvety and caused an involuntary shiver to run through her.

Once glance and he could see the determination though diluted with a slight tinge of fear in her pale blue eyes. For some reason he found himself feeling almost unwilling to let her go.

But this was how things worked in here.

Kill or be killed.

She released his arm and padded over to the cage, her bare feet making soft, muted sounds on the cool ground.

Soft and patient, his voice rang in her head as she recalled his words of advice from before.

'Don't be a hero. You have to survive. First, climb. Wait it out. There's no way you will survive if you charge into the start of the fight. Let them finish each other before you attack. The last ones, they're the hardest to beat. Hide until there's only one left. Then kill it. You can do it. I've seen it in you. Don't fail or else you'll lose more than just your dignity.'

Closing her eyes she took a deep breath and let the noise of the wind drown out her thoughts. With utmost concentration, she visualized with all her might the sword that she had bonded with the night before.

Short puffs of air escaped her pale lips and she focused her concentration on the sleek pale silver of her blade. Before she knew it, the weight of the sword so familiar began to dip her hands down. Clutching it as if it were her lifeline, which it was, she lifted it up and opened her eyes, satisfied that she had managed to successfully summon her weapon. Sparing a glance behind, she sought out the familiar figure of her partner.

Jace stood watching her from the front of the crowd that had gathered to watch the Fight, her expression unreadable and from this distance his mismatched eyes glittered with unfathomable emotions. She thought she had glimpsed a small, satisfied smirk twist the corners of his mouth up.

But then again maybe she didn't.

His face as emotionally detached as always, stood out from the rest of the raucous crowd.

Turning around again to face the arena before her, she calmed her heart down and cleared her mind.

Focus was crucial.

One slip up and it would cost her her life.

This was no game.

The gong sounded then, jolting her body and shaking her soul.

It had begun.

Katarina smiled viciously.

Bring it on.

Tunnel Effect

The prospect is bleak.

It's as if she's in a tunnel and the light at the end has been snuffed out. She doesn't know we're the exit begins and where the entrance ends. Well maybe she's stuck in the middle. She decides to lie down before she could get too lost.

Maybe she'll just lie there and wait till someone finds her.

Is anybody out there? Or am I just talking to myself.

Thank You

She could feel the blade penetrate her chest.

Curious feeling that was.

Looking into the intense dark blue eyes of the long haired warrior in front of her, she felt a choked half-laugh escape her bloodied lips. A trickle of blood dripped down her chin, falling silently onto the ground. The pain was still there, an odd burning sensation. Curious, because she couldn't remember any fire.

His eyes roamed her face before boring into her own pale green irises. His hand, gripped the handle of the blade tightly, skin stretched over bone white knuckles.

He was beautiful.

Breathing became difficult. She had to use all the strength in her faltering body to suck in a pathetic stream of oxygen. Not that it mattered anyway. Her head slumped forward, red strands of hair slithering over her hunched shoulders, obscuring her pale face. Her hands grasped the blade and feebly tried to pull it out.

Let me go.

His grip tightened. Then suddenly in one swift, fluid movement, he drew the sword out of her.

Aquila's body fell almost gracefully, artfully, falling onto the blood stained ground with a soft thump.

Her green eyes, unfocused, seemed to be staring at somewhere beyond him. Her hands twisted on the ground, fingers curling into claws and weakly digging into the cold, hard ground. The red locks mixed with the dark red liquid surrounding her gave him the impression that she was merely sleeping in a pool of wine. Her bloodless lips formed words he could not hear as he noticed how still she was becoming and how she seemed to have run out of breath.

Metal scraping the ground, the stained sword dragged on the ground as he moved towards her. Pale green eyes met blue and he knew what she wanted him to do.

After all, if the tables were turned, he'd want the exact same thing.

"End it.", she whispered.

And so he did.

He raised the sword over her heart and plunged it in without any hesitation. He could see the light fade out from her eyes and the life left her limp figure.

The last words she whispered barely reached his ears before she fell completely still.

"Thank you."

Weapons of Words

Words hurt. 

She knew that better than anyone. 

And that was why she armed herself with them. Surrounding her fragile inner self with an arsenal of sharp edged words, tips gleaming with poison and glistening with malice. Words hurt more then any fire forged or heavy weapon. Words were tested and tempered with cruelty and malicious, deadly intent, capable of inflicting harm beyond the capabilities of tangible weapons.  

And that was why they were her weapon of choice.

She sliced through weak emotional shields with ease and made ribbons out of the souls whom had once tormented her. Ripping and slashing her way towards the only thing that made her feel safe. Tearing others down with her words was so much easier than building others up.

Destruction was so much simpler and faster than creation and she reveled in her newfound power.

Words empowered her. 

So Close

Gripping the arrow in her shaking right hand she pulled back the string till it tautened, her entire arm was shaking now. Her arms shook with the effort of keeping her aim true, as she closed one eye and focused on her target. She could feel her grip loosening and mentally berated herself for having that slight lapse in concentration, it was imperative that she made a clean shot. Pale blue eyes narrowed in concentration, her breaths slight and slow, slowly she straightened her back and gripped the bow harder. She let the breaths she had been holding in all out in a huff of effort as she simultaneously let lose the arrow.

Twisting in the air, the arrow flew with deadly precision and it was almost a lifetimes wait before it pierced cleanly through his head.

From the distance she was standing at, Katarina couldn't hear the gasp of shock that escaped his parted lips or the sound of the arrow as it zipped towards him and parted his shaggy sandy brown fringe before plunging into the centre of his forehead. She could'nt see the horror and fear in his eyes as he sought her out, the tall dark figure in the distance, before death gripped him in its inescapable claws.

She could'nt see anything.

She could feel her traitorous heart falter at the sight of his crumpled body and feel the start of the tremor of sobs which wracked her body and forced her to her knees. The bow fell from her hand and she clasped it around her mouth to stifle the sobs which bordered on hysteria as the minutes dragged past. Her blue eyes wide and staring as the tears leaked out from the corner of her eyes and raced down her face.

She could'nt see anything. But she could feel. She could feel everything.

And perhaps that was worse.