[color=gray][indent][indent][center][i][color=#624e51]He’s coming, mon petit – he is coming. He’s coming for you; you have to run![/color][/i][/center]

	[color=#f48558][i]Wake up![/i][/color]


	[color=#c8a2a7]“What?” [/color]

	[color=#624e51]“Your father, he’s coming, don’t you remember?”[/color] A sweet voice chastised, delicate intonations of French slightly dampened under English practice. It plucked at the fringes of her mind where a filtering haze had blanketed her in fog, ministrations stilling as she lowered dainty hands from her mane of hair and beheld their smooth gestures- she had scars here, once, ones harshly shadowed under swirls of black ink.

	[color=#978184][i]Right?[/i][/color]

	[color=#624e51]“Ammaranthe?”[/color] Her gaze flashed and snapped up through oblique lashes, a shadow cast in memorial of a name unspoken and unknown but felt through the leagues of unbidden tremors as she beheld her mother before her, garbed in a cream sweater that offset the warm undertone of her skin and hair tucked and braided with delicate curls against the high set of her flushed cheeks. 

She looked so [i]motherly[/i]. Maternal. And yet… [i]Misplaced[/i].

Charlotte Cahors was always different, spoken as an oddity on the island, with hair spun of midnight likeness, bright blue eyes, and donned in precious jewels that glimmered with peculiar lights therein of rough cut crystals and gems. A relatively young mother but endearing nonetheless to the residents and locale with brief excursions onto campus. She tended to the greenhouse occasionally, plots of roses tended to by her delicate hands, beset with allium with their dainty white petals, sea holly, and yarrow nestled beside. Other plots of marigolds and wormwood and then draping scarlet blooms of amaranth– the everlasting, the immortal meaning concealed behind the conceptual eternalism of love-lies-bleeding. 

[i]Jonas…[/i] He brought them here. A letter sent to her mother after the cathedral in Rouen was set ablaze, a series of mysterious fires devoid of pattern or reason through France, just rumored vandalism and theft to shadowed misdeeds of a darkened past. 

[i]Her father…[/i] A fuzzy profile, dark hair, dark eyes, a perpetual stain marring the impression that came and went with a stuttering sigh.[i] She couldn’t remember. [/i]Even the kitchen where she stood wavered in and out of familiarity as if a painting illustrated in all the wrong colors, mutilated shadows, and shades of peculiar hues that fluttered as moth wings at the edge of her vision. She studied the cabinetry, the marble countertops, the lines marking through the tiles at her feet; it was all relatively quaint and mundane trimmings, all the comforts of a home that fell askew through her fanning lashes as she glanced back to her mother. Comforting hands brushed against her brow, the gesture so consoling that it set her back with immediate tension willing away through her arms as subtle contingents fell into place.

She had only ever wanted to go home. 
A place to call her own.
[i][color=#978184]This was her home.[/color][/i]

	[color=#624e51]“You’ve been so out of it lately. It’s your Senior year [/color][i][color=#624e51]très cher, attention à la dentelle.”[/color][/i]

	[color=#c8a2a7]“A lot has happened,[/color][i][color=#c8a2a7] been[/color][/i][color=#c8a2a7] happening. The Trials-”[/color]Amma cut off, paused, and continued. [color=#c8a2a7]“The dance, too. I just can’t…”[/color] She laughed.

	[i][color=#978184]Remember.[/color][/i]

	[color=#624e51]“I know there are numerous expectations with H.E.A.T and all,”[/color] Charlotte sympathized, stepping back to address the potted plants set aside, tiny buds decorating lax branches tied off in pale ribbons of blue. [color=#624e51]“Your father thought it best to return to help with the training. There has been unsettling news and developments on the mainland.”[/color] She busied herself next with an arrangement, binding sunset lilies together with green twine. 

	[color=#624e51]“I’m heading to the school today; I promised Luce I’d help her with the hydrangeas. The loveliest redhead has been coming by, a sweet girl, though incredibly sad. You’re welcome to join me, as always. ”[/color]

Voices muttered at the back of her mind, pulling together memories done in an overcast haze.

	[color=#c8a2a7]“Maybe next time, I know, I think, I’m waiting on someone…”[/color]

Charlotte hummed quietly, a telltale smile curling over her face with a flicker of knowing in her bright eyes. She moved carefully to gather her arrangements, and a peculiar ring on her finger flickered red in the sunlight with twisted bronze and gold, capturing her attention with the way it gleamed with a hidden flame. It struck Amma with a sensation of loss, of knowing, but she could not place the furor as her mother glanced a kiss upon her cheek and whispered: 

	[color=#624e51]“Just don’t let him singe the curtains again. There are only so many times I can replace them; your father has begun to notice.” [/color]

	[color=#624e51]“It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm today, ma chérie. I’ll see you later.”[/color]

Voices carried on yonder outside, followed quickly by light laughter and a deepened voice that thrummed at a hidden string of yearning. She twisted threads of black around her finger, the charms adorned through her locks with red and silver twinkling on the suspended breath she withheld. She was beholden to the immediate influence that slunk and flitted to her across the threshold, melding entirely with her own in playful flutters of flame. 
 
A towering figure loomed in the doorway, clothed in black, a wealth of sweltering heat tangibly felt from every corded muscle and lit through eyes marveling in resplendence. Golden hues that sparked as fireworks through the gloom of shadows, an unraveling of strength undiluted through shades of vermillion, bisected onto one side with a vicious scar. Despite all manners of severity and impression, a smile still fell with the filtering sunlight of dawn, a darling embellishment of adoration that softened rigid expressions as soon as they marked her given profile. 

	[right][i]A crack in the door, shadowed moonlight, slivers of darkness, and a voice that says –[/i][/right]

	[color=#c7500c]“Hey, Heartbreaker.”[/color]

	[i][color=#978184]Oh, I remember now…[/color][/i]

	[color=#c8a2a7]“My hero,”[/color] she rejoined with a feigned swoon, inspiring a darling, belle voice that twittered between them, heightened into a peel of laughter as arms banded around her waist and lifted her, pulled her in tight where immediate warmth bloomed and fled through the entire room on risen waves of heat that glistened over her pale skin. Amma immediately draped her arms over those broad shoulders as he balanced her on the counter, hardly mindful of what remained there, clattering dishes shoved aside immediately for braced palms. Their heights matched as he leaned in just that much closer to decipher the smoldering glimmer in those eternal eyes of blue that swelled like waves against a shoreline. 

	[color=#c7500c]“I told him, one more touch and he would be-”[/color]

	[i][color=#c8a2a7]“Burned,”[/color][/i] Amma finished on a purring trill, tongue against her pout and muttered against his chin; he smirked, a harsh grin that chiseled through and was punctuated with his teeth that snapped close to her mouth.

	[color=#c7500c]“I may like to watch you flirt with others, but when they go to touch what is mine…” [/color]Hot breath blew over the perch of her lips, every spindling cord of vermillion and scarlet alighted through their shared gaze as she leaned back, palms on his shoulders and spine curved, pushing herself nearly off the counter to hook her thighs on the arch of his hips pressed close. 

	[color=#c8a2a7]“And what about these mundane warriors trying to invade the island? They’re determined to end us. They almost succeeded last time.”[/color]

	[color=#c7500c]“I’ll burn them all too. Send them away to the bottom of the ocean where The Foundation lies, where Daedalus rots. Raze everyone to the ground that dares to threaten you.” [/color]He swore with fingers purchased on the revealing span of skin above her waist. She shook, lips parted around the gasp that spun up from her belly, and whispered:

	[color=#c8a2a7]“You can’t just [/color][i][color=#c8a2a7]raze[/color][/i][color=#c8a2a7] everyone. Every[/color][i][color=#c8a2a7]thing.[/color][/i][color=#c8a2a7]” [/color]She breathed.

	[color=#c7500c]“Maybe, but I can certainly try.”[/color]

Whatever response was to be had immediately became stolen, sweet breath and fire lancing through their intertwined cores, lips met on harsh gasps and mewling whimpers with an urgency eternally felt and nourished on shared breath through heaving lungs. Calloused palms scorched over pallid thighs that cinched tight against quivering muscles, near bruising force lifting her up with her ankles suddenly crossed at his back. Fire, hot and heavy and ravenous, suddenly burned through her clothes and wreathed through her hair, singeing away threads of black and Canis red; tiny sparks of silver ignited there, too, dancing through the crystalline light of her eyes as she gazed into his –

Strange, she thought; she could’ve sworn her lover’s eyes were –

 [right][I]– blue.[/i][/right]

[right][i]Freedom and bitter uncertainty, blooming passion and hazy arousal, bidden under shadows of resentment, to know him as he was, as he could be, had been, and would ever be. White flowers and crimson sparks converging into one singular construct of a bridge betwixt two souls and the name that floated there–[/i][/right]

	[color=#c8a2a7]“Lorcàn?”[/color] She inquired, but his heated pants fell against the line of her pale neck, no answer to proffer as she shuddered with open-mouthed kisses descending to devour her rapid pulse. Her gaze dropped to the mirror hung on the opposite wall draped in curling vines of ivy, her body suddenly aglow with scarlet coils as every ounce of power spiraled into a manifest of crackling streaks and ribbons as she looked upon the reflection of…

… herself lying in the dark, bloodied, bruised, and broken. A void of nothingness, a void of death that reigned as truth, even with Lorcán’s voracious appetite against the slick lines of her lithe frame, his clothing burning away on her cries as he pulled her against his flushed body, wed their flesh as one, sensational whorls of red now fled down the muscled lines of his back where faded marks fell under the purchase of her scarlet nails. She met the eyes of her despairing reflection who met her gaze with one of sorrow and immense pain, her expression stricken as those eyes flashed  –

[right][i]Soft dawning filters over resting bodies, lingering caresses with wandering hands, and whispered promises against heated lips.[/i][/right]

– they were as one as she had been once upon a time as a reign of true self unknown and sought, realization alighting there as barriers and veils thinned and meshed, as fibers of dawning acknowledgment collided through the mirror of mirrors, of the very fabrics of this world and the next. With outstretched hands, scarred palms of muddled lines of heart, fate, and love–reaching in powerless claims for threads of scarlet that fled onto the vestiges of time eternal through the fabrics of severed realities. 

Within and without.

	[i][color=#624e51]It's time to wake up, my dearest. [/color][/i]
[center][color=000000][i]He's coming.[/i][/color][/center] 
[right][color=#f48558][i]Wake up![/i][/color][/right][/indent][/indent]
[center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center]
[CENTER][url=https://open.spotify.com/track/5NwmODyk4rlXKDPJ7iJzBn?si=20f03707c9d0492c][img]https://i.imgur.com/HOCghre.jpeg[/img][/url][/CENTER][indent][sub][COLOR=978184][B]Location:[/B][/COLOR] [I]Unknown.[/I][/sub][sup][right][COLOR=#978184][b]Human #5.040:[/b][/COLOR] [I]éternité.[/I][/right][/sup][/indent][center][sup][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#928b85]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#9b948d]_____[/color][/sup][sup][color=#928b85]_____[/color][color=#89837d]_____[/color][color=#807a75]_____[/color][color=#77716d]_____[/color][color=#6e6965]_____[/color][color=#64605d]_____[/color][color=#5b5754]_____[/color][color=#524f4c]_____[/color][color=#494644]_____[/color][color=#403d3c]_____[/color][color=#373534]_____[/color][color=#2e2c2c]_____[/color][/sup][/center][INDENT][sub][color=#978184][B]Interaction(s):[/B][/COLOR]&[/sub][SUP][RIGHT][COLOR=#978184][b]Previously:[/b][/COLOR] [color=gray][I]limbo.[/I][/color][/right][/SUP]
[indent][INDENT]
She awoke on a painful rasp, near screams lodged somewhere within, unable to escape, with her spine bowing up with the severity of her lungs inflating with the sudden surge of breath.

There was frigid agony through her entire body, bunched tight and rigid as if frozen entirely in place. Severe cramps and muscles locked tight, everything refusing to budge as if she had been laying, twisted, curled, for so many hours without movement. As if dead and suddenly bequeathed with new life, the cruel endeavor of mortality shorn through her hellacious existence. It was a marvel to move her arms, her legs following in sluggish pursuit, her heart pumping lazily as she fought to breathe without pain. Intense bruises with deeply seeded shades of violet curiously faded into bisque edges that covered her in horrid, jaundiced splotches. The inverted light offered just enough for her to catalog such blemishes, her mind gone hazed and fogged, shadowed as she attempted to piece together her dream.

A dream of dreams that had felt so real. 

Amma braced her palms beneath her, feeling the cold muck that had dried, chipping away from her skin, flaking as her breath plumed white in front of her, and heaved herself up, arms trembling with the effort. Pieces of her hair fell forward, clumped together, tangled, thick waves congealed with whatever remained of this pit with streaks of color too dark to be anything else but blood. Hers, though, or something else? It took momentous strength to lift her head, the nape of her neck burning with an awareness of something unnamed as she attempted to study the shadows pulsating around her, undulating waves of black that shifted with delicate spots of light heralded from above with every movement she made. There were more chittering whispers through the gloom, some that fell over one another and others that she could make out clearly with the utterance of her name. It interchanged through each, somehow more guttural as it curled over certain syllables and enunciations of her many callings, more noticeable in hissing words on the finality of [i]Ammaranthe. [/i]

She was still [i]aware[/i]; perhaps that meant something.

Every so often, between those colliding whispers, she heard the plop and drag of something other, something that, too, carved through the thick mud, blanketed in darkness so thick she couldn’t decipher where it came from even with the soft light above. It echoed around her, never seen, but drawing closer, something cumbersome made through the final ditch of hell that contained her. Or, something that lived here and thrived in the shadows, awaiting her arrival, as confessed by the demented serpent that beheld her very eyes. Amma slowly pushed herself to sit upright, her legs refusing to obey and curiously numb. The effort it took was dragging into precious minutes as the whispering words and dragging noises suddenly stopped. The echoing silence immediately sounded off into a keenly felt and heard ringing that fell betwixt her ears, causing her to remain still; she felt as if prey, and whatever else remained here, was hunting her. Suppose it was a loathed beast, an abomination, purposed to feast upon her for eternity, for all the wrong she had committed, for all the wrong she had yet to do and had been created and meant for. Perhaps it was the gargoyle, still half-mad and half-crazed to finish her, as it had foreseen to drag her into the void with it and now despaired over the ruination of hell sought after. 

Or, even still, perchance it was the creature she glimpsed in the Trials, the clink of chains and hated scarlet breath, of the looming shadow it cast and the figure nestled within its claws that had dragged her down and down again into that dreaded room. The roaring despair that summoned her nightmares and the wrath of her waking world, the embodiment of vengeance, omnipotence, and purpose, the woefully betrayed left to rot in the depths below. To what still thrived within her soul of souls, bound eternally to the cage of bone and ashen crowns impaled over a sorrowful brow. The fissures of lament swelled and brewed with the encroaching darkness, and Amma glimpsed within herself to reign over that vessel of hate. She had been lost to the dark for so long and had lent herself to the vestiges of night eternal and shadowed relics of abandonment. Hope was fleeting; hope was a lie. 

And none would be found here.

The dragging sounds renewed, heaving ever closer, carved through the muck, plopped, swelled, and rolled. She shuddered and looked over her shoulder where awareness bloomed and rose, cresting over her curved shoulders that fell inward, but then she heard it coming left, then right, her head on a swivel as she tried to track its movements. A quaking drone began through the void of nothingness, an esoteric and eldritch resonation that sounded and shook through the chasm now carrying the languishing wails of the damned. They were moans and screams that sounded like her own, a shimmering veil pulled thin and translucent as she looked yonder and saw herself many times over: tormented, tortured, dead, beloved, forlorn, lost, and nevermore.

	[color=#978184]“Shut up.”[/color] Amma hissed, voice roughly strung over bloodied remains, throat convulsing with the effort. She felt aged somehow, different, wizened by the pain endured as she dug blackened fingers into the mud and hauled herself forward, away from where she assumed the dragging continued to slink and close in on her. The glowing sphere above did not move with her this time. Still, the inverted ribbons of light continued to blaze and descend, casting demented shadows and mocking radiance as she heaved, panted, and fought to quiet her movements as the dragging grew louder. And louder. Puncautated by rasping metal and now warbling snarls. It was taunting her now, loosey unleashing waves of sound as she continued to drag and pull herself through the gloom; she would not make it easy. For if damned to this pit, Amma would not go without a fight. She had lain for however long, and it had not set upon her, for whatever reason, it deemed her unworthy of pursuit until now, and so be it, she thought. Let it give chase. Vague and rusted hinges creaked and moved, keys turning to unlock more of her memories spurred by the image of her mother before her as [i]home[/i]. The mirror of mirrors of one garbed in a white gown, veiled and bloodied and weeping, and the other smiling, arms encased in ruby roses and glistening ivy, a crown of thorns and one of bone. 

	[i][color=#624e51]If you find yourself lost in the chasm[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	For whatever reason, you got there[/i][/color]
[i][color=#624e51]	Follow the lights, for they will guide[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	You out. Some things lost are left[/i][/color]
[i][color=#624e51]	As guides, some come to others[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	As familiars. And some that appear[/i][/color]
[i][color=#624e51]	As spheres of light eternally lost[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	Death is only the beginning, mon cœur[/i][/color]

[i][color=#624e51]	I just pray you never have to see it[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	As I have.[/i][/color]

A wailing screech sounded, and she recognized it then and there as an echo of hunger that she had heard before, one that had claimed the ruined soul of another—a sound of death. In the shadowed moonlight during the haunting hour, where Amma Cahors had saved Lorcán Roth and admitted to the encompassing heart of her humanity, it called to her with fiendish whorls of rot that spread through the ground; she could feel it encroaching rapidly as she dragged and heaved and pulled, feeling her nails crack and bend and splinter. It demanded what ragged remains there were of her soul, her heart, her spirit malformed and tantalizing in the desperation that compounded it. Darkness finally descended as she came away from the ring of inverted light, allowing the blanket of the unknown to envelop her as she struggled to breathe through the cold that speared through her lungs, an ache found there as ice stabbed through her very marrow. Amma curled her palm against her chest, feeling every rung of her ribs as she fought to contain her harsh, panting breaths. Why fight, she thought despairingly, why struggle through this eternal pit? She was lost, thrown, and tossed into the dark once again, where she had been molded and formed as a forsaken child of power undone. Where years had bled away into nothing, and time become unknowing and cruel. [i]Why?[/i] There was nothing and no one; she was lost once again, and there would be no hand to reach through to provide her solace. There would be no hand to flit across crisp bed sheets to enmesh with her own. 

Yet still, she fought, her legs finally complying as she shoved and pulled herself into the dark, her muscles screaming as she stood to her full height, her dress heels lost and forgotten, her soles cracked and bloodied as muck sopped and yanked at her ankles. Amma nearly fell as she began to move, a heightened sense of adrenaline fueling her blood. She looked through the dark and saw the figure dragging through the shadows, hunting after her sorrows and taunting her anguish. Somehow, she knew it and yet did not, but the yellow eyes that fell upon her promised nothing but eternal pain, and when a viperish maw split open and wailed, Amma ran.

If this was her eternal hell, then she had to navigate it on her own, for even if there was no redemption in sight and she was forever lost to purgatory, she would not let the farthest depths of hell forget her name just as the world had been beholden to her power elsewhere. Through a mirror of mirrors, she had seen herself lost to the wiles of love and lust, as she had seen once before through a glimpse of screens onto another life. Somewhere, she as herself had been and never was; she had been happy and wanted, beloved, a sacred term felt through a heart seen and known.

Amma fell once, twice, and screamed on the impact of both palms and knees as another keening wail of appetence peeled through the void and fled through her bones. Still, it only spurred her on, even as she half dragged herself through the cold, black, swampish remains and fled further into the abyss, knowing not what awaited her. Somewhere in the pitch of black before her, she glimpsed a singular thread of crimson unspooling through shadow, leading to nowhere as a glimmering coil of scarlet and then a delicate sphere of orange that tailed after it, pulsating as a heart would, rapid and fleeting.

	[color=#f48558]Keep running! [/color]
	[color=#f48558]They’re coming for you. [/color]
	[color=#f48558]Just a little more! [/color]

	[color=#978184]“Who?!” [/color]Amma cried, pain heralding through her limbs as she struggled to keep moving, falling once again and unable to catch her fall, the impact splitting her lip and tongue as she bit [i]down[/i]. A soft scream feathered from her throat as blood filled her mouth, coppery and warm. Why was death so painful? Why could she not just languish for eternity and lament over life and love lost?

[i]	[color=000000]Because this is only the beginning, we still have [b]so much more to do[/b].[/color]
[/i]
	[color=#978184]“Shut the fuck up!”[/color]

That damned voice that haunted her every day and every night that now followed her unto death and continued to taunt her with both truth and lies. Amma screamed, blood trickling freely over the pout of her lip as she pushed off from the ground and ran after that fleeting tendril of red, after that orange light that had slowly begun to fade with that delicate chime of a young girl blooming through her heart to lead her yonder into the dark. Another splitting screech sounded, now more than one, fueled by the scent of her blood as deep chuffing sounds erupted through the shadows and frenzied themselves on the potential of her downfall as she fled. The fated string suddenly spun off to the left, and Amma chased after it with all that remained of her strength. But then it suddenly winked out, but she would not be undone as she clamored after it, fingers arched, splayed, clawing through the void as one of the pursuing creatures leaped. Horrid, white-hot agony lanced down her leg suddenly, and she cried, the putrid scent of decay surrounding her in a fog of rot. It was death once more coming to drag her away, but Amma kicked out, screaming as needles punctured into her thigh, bleeding over ink and scars and piercing deep beyond flesh and into muscle. She had endured endless torture under the hands of another; this was [i]nothing[/i] compared to the thousand upon a thousand needles Amma had been subjected to in the true pit of despair. She tore her nails through taut flesh, sinew, and blood and bone giving way beneath her assault as she pulled her leg free; she did not dare look upon her mangled limb and limped away as the creature screeched after her, renewed in its hunt as it stalked after her flailing retreat. 

She did not dare stop even as she fell once more, dragging herself through the muck again, a ridge of bone clamping down upon the pout of her split lip, her screams of pain clawing through her throat before plummeting into the depths of her heart where they festered. She did not dare…

[i]… hope.[/i]

[i]Hope to make it out.[/i]

She saw the orange light flicker and dip into a crevice in the dark where a small crack formed and swelled with crimson light, beckoning her, calling for her in a sweet voice. Amma lunged for it and met hard glass and rock that chipped away under her palms as she clawed through it, wedging herself through the hole and further into the unknown darkness. The compressing walls shuddered and quaked around her as the dreaded creatures lost sight and smell of her, howling and wailing with their prey suddenly taken from them. She could feel her body growing slick and heavy, cumbersome as exhaustion pulled away at her with blood loss, her leg flaring madly with pain. She dared not stop, though, and pulled her body through, crawling on her belly, sharp edges of stone burrowing deep into her sides as she gasped, fighting for breath and against the claustrophobia that fell in and threatened to crush her along with her eternal fear of the dark. 

But there, she finally saw a glimmer of red, more than that fated string, an all-encompassing herald of light that shone upon her and compelled her forward. Amma nearly wept as it became easier to move, rising to her hands and knees as the hole expanded and allowing more room, but the more she crawled and ventured, the slower she moved as a sliver in the obsidian rock yawned ahead, permitting her to stand finally. On shaking, bleeding legs, Amma stood, lost somewhere in the face of a cliff that howled with a demented tune, a song of loss and forlorn life as she looked yonder to crashing waves, a sea suspended into turmoil and donned a shade of dark crimson. She looked down; massive spires of rock were held below, familiar and yet jagged as if the fangs of a fossilized beast were carved into the sediment as a yawning maw. Everything was beholden to a sanguine hue, and Amma trembled as she looked up and beheld the scarlet moon above her, her mother’s voice whispering through her mind.

	[i][color=#624e51]Just remember, mon cœur, should you ever see a red moon…[/color][/i]
[color=#624e51][i]	...Run far, far away.[/i][/color]

[/INDENT][/INDENT][/indent][/color]