Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
PREFACE
Death, to many, meant the end of life. It was the moment breathing stopped and consciousness faded into the unknown, dripping with the swirling tendrils of dread. It was followed by grief and pain and looked upon by horror-filled eyes, feared by those who loved and cherished the daylight and the passing of hours.
Death, to many, was the end. It marked the last moments of simply being, cutting off into the next step that was more theorised than anything. It was the end to all things natural, and warm and living.
But not to Rosalie. Death was more than just an ending. It was the beginning of a pitiful existence, of an unliving life as a monster, followed by darkness and complications of all kind, wherever she went. Rebirth, in her new form, was not kind, not poetic, and certainly not a blessing.
But maybe all that could change. Maybe Rosalie's death didn't mean the end of herself and the beginning of something that was just an outline of her previous person. Who would have thought a single human life could have changed it all?
