The Blessed Child

Part I: The Black and White Fire

Hello! This is a slight note before the chapter. So I really don't know where I want to go with the story at the moment. If anyone has any suggestions please comment cause that'd be great :) Also I'd like to give a shout out of thanks to my readers! (Which at the moment are coming very close to zero...) Especially WelaraJumper for her constructive criticism, Meghana (my friend in real life :P) Who's dedicated to my story and reads it everytime there's a new chapter, and Leafpool07 who has helped me with this story. And to future readers, I just want to remind everyone that I'm not a psychopath. ^_^ But that's up to you to decide of course :)

This is the turning point of the story! And next chapter will be Part 2!

So after reading please comment and critique (and point out errors)~

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The first thing she noticed was the flowers. But the whole place was odd to begin with. The way the patterns of the shadows upon the ghostly leaves writhed like snake tongues seeking for her warmth. The whole place seemed alien. The ground crunched stoidly underneath her aching bones. And her eyes kept merging the landscape together. And she seemed brighter upon the scenery. A rock caught on her toe and she fell. Upon the dirt.

In the earth was embedded a flower.

And that's when she noticed it.

The flower was pale. She observed it, blocking out the pain. It was so white it was almost impossible. Only color was the dark splotches of shadow. As she stood up, she had realized it was the same with the trees. The dirt. Even the sky had changed to follow the dismal pattern. The scenery was devoid of color.

It was black and white.

And perhaps that was what hid him so easily. The jejune landscape blanketed everything in an exasperated dullness. It was as if the Maker had gotten too lazy to paint this forest. And then, the landscape had grown wild and untamed. Beautiful yet insane. It had torrents of vines wafting in the sickly sweet scent of dew. Crazed plants soared towards the sky. Anything could lurk unto the shadows wearing its blackness as a cloak of midnight invisibility. 

Something was.

She walked on, wincing in pain every few steps. The undergrowth fascinated her as much as it horrified her. The Maker, how could he bear to leave this beautiful world uncolored? She ran her fingers across the bark of the trees, the coarse leaves, everything. 

This is the real world. She said to herself. Forcing reality upon her. She did not want to lose that sense of trueness. Of reality. Perhaps because she was so absorbed in her thoughts, she did not hear the slinking of footsteps upon the earthen floor. She did not notice the frost cold eyes that burned their stare at the back of her neck. And she did not notice the killing intent radiating from the stalker.

The world around her twisted intricatly, savoring her attention. She smiled absently. Maybe the Maker had painted it. But had painted it in the colors of song for a reason. The timeless black and white gave the idea of immortality. Immortality she herself was very close to having. 

Something in her mind clicked and screamed right before it happened, but she did not react in time. A hiss and a blur in front of her and suddenly, red blood oozed from her skin. Stupefied, she stared. What had happened. Her thoughts frenzied. What had happened? Why was she bleeding? Her eyes darted around precariously and she jerked around. Searching.

But she did not see. 

The black and white were now blending together, masking anything, if there was anything, in the dense wild brush. A sudden hate for the blinding colors of the forest overcame her. Then was instantly replaced with frozen, frores of fear.