Present

She brushed a pale hand carelessly across her forehead, chest heaving rapidly in the wan light of the candles. With long, slender arms, she reached over and trailed her fingers across the top of the box. The carvings on the lid were exquisitely designed; two dragons entwined together, forming the sacred symbol. She could feel the energy emanating from the symbol, the wrath of the dragons trembling under her touch, like the thunderous voice of the ocean as its waves crashed into the rocky shores. It was dim in the room, too dim to see the latch or a way to open the trunk; she reached beside her and removed a candle from its perch for light. The small fire wavered gently and cast eerie shadows on the wall as she directed its light towards the seal on the trunk.

With a single murmur of an incantation, she broke the seal and lifted the top of the trunk before reaching in and wrapping her fingers around the cold of the handle to trace the smooth metal of the blade. Her fingers trailed over the detailing on the handle, discovering the texture and feeling it tremble. She placed light, feathery caresses upon the ancient bronze, but the growing energy that emanated from it drew her caution as she gripped the handle firmly. In a muted burst of force, she drew the sword from its resting place and thrust it into the air once. She closed her eyes, a nostalgic smile gracing her lips as much of the surrounding fire extinguished. It had been too long since she had swung the sword, too long since she had felt the cool ivory handle of the weapon. She reveled in the feel of the illustrious patterns carved on its edges, reciting from memory the ancient mantra it described.

But something wasn’t right. The air in the room had changed.

She turned and knelt slowly on the floor, her lack of movement for the past hour slowing her actions. The sword was placed carefully on a small table before the stone altar that stood in the middle of the room. With that, she clasped her hands together in front of her and closed her eyes, allowing the words to come to her. From her lips came a strange hymn, a chant, haunting whispers that echoed in the gloom.

"Ring around the rosie, a pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes, we all fall down."

The last candle blew out, plunging the room into darkness.

Her eyes shot open and she leapt up in anxiety. The air in the room was foreboding; she could sense the spirits' unrest. Narrowing her eyes, she squinted at the thin line of moonlight squeezing through the closed doors of the shrine. She knew that voice, but the presence of its owner was gone. Perhaps it was time she raised the shield around the outer walls.

She closed her eyes and steadied her breath, listening closely for any disturbance in the still air. There was none, but she was not satisfied. Expanding her senses, she allowed her aura to penetrate the air in a harsh path. As she reached out with her mind, her power clashed against another’s with a startling force. She jumped, hands immediately on the altar in a panicked attempt to find the sword and defend herself. The new aura made itself known and she paused, cocking her head. She recognized him.

She smiled despite the uneasiness that flooded her stomach. "Come out Kyou. I know it's you."

Rich laughter filled the room as the other acknowledged her. "Are you ready, darling?"

She spun around and watched quietly as he slinked out of the shadows and took on a solid form. She grinned, her ivory cheeks tinted with a faint pink. "Ashes, ashes… we all fall down." She repeated, hands falling against her side as he moved closer.

He laughed and gazed at her with cerulean orbs before leaning forward and tilting his head in a way that his mouth was beside her ear, his hot breath in her ear. She shivered, which only aroused him more. She knew; she could sense it. "Isn't it funny," he whispered softly, "that the tragedy of the black plague is hidden in a child's nursery rhyme?"

She remained silent, lips sealed in a firm line as she slowly backed her way towards the altar, where the sword lay.

“Rykea… come play again,” he cooed, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness, “I miss you…”

The familiar adrenaline rushes to her head and her blood tingles from her concentration. Parting her lips slightly, she begins to recite the words that would protect her from him. As her lower back hits the altar, she reaches out slowly for the sword, but his hand shot out and grabbed her arm, pulling her to him and forcing her head against his chest. "Now, now… you should know by now that it just doesn't work on me… lover."

She pulled back with great speed and narrowed her eyes, feeling her vision becoming clearer as his touch took its effect. Cautiously, she tapped her tongue against her teeth and noticed with a sinking feeling that her canines had lengthened to a sharp point. "I am not your lover." She grounded out, wrenching away from him.

He laughed then. "Rykea, Rykea… when will you fall down?" He took a step forward and lifted a hand to trace the necklace around her neck. "Because you know your posies don't work anyway," he paused. And then he wrapped his fingers around the metal string and ripped it off her neck with fervor, leaving a scarlet line on her pale flesh. She snarled, clawing at him with sharp nails and ripping the sleeve of his shirt to shreds. A soft growl emitted from the back of her throat and the last of her optimism faded away as she felt the change become complete.

Another chuckle, and then a cold finger sliding under her chin, tilting up her face. "When was the last time you had a proper meal?" He glanced at the metal string on the floor, eyes lingering momentarily on the ornate cross that lay quietly at the end of the necklace. "You're still hiding behind the Alliance's idiotic curses." He chuckled, brushing his lips with hers.

She instantly went limp in his arms, her eyes closed as she went into a trance-like state. She knew she could do nothing against his power, and especially nothing to resist her own. She felt his arms slip under her knees before she was carried outside, under the full moon. The sky was a violet carpet, its soft lavender clouds stretching across an endless plane. "There are no stars tonight, lover," he whispered into her ear, and she couldn’t help but shiver. The chill air surrounded them as he walked a few more steps into the trees. "No one but us."

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