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Elora Clarke thought she knew pain. She was a murderer, a nightmare, the big bad wolf hiding under the bed. She was forced to become red. Red that did not wash out with water or tears or sharks teeth. Now, she is more.
Elora Clarke is the feeling of despair, of emptiness, of finding your other half only to be torn apart. She watches, hopeless, as he walks the same path she once did. As the blood drips from his sword and children's screams fill the air. She watches as he, too, is forced to become red. The golden haired boy that had so carelessly intertwined their souls, had held her, had adored her, is gone. Now, he is a killer too.
