One survivor.

A lone group of men and women for hire had gone about their mission perfectly: they had infiltrated the Chancellor's Palace without notice. Hints and maps provided them all the necessary information they needed. Their goal was simple. They were being paid handsomely to obtain a royal treasure--to steal a royal treasure.

The problem, however, was the fact that the very royal treasure they sought was the same one that the new Queen of Prompt kept close to her at all times. She almost always wore it. Research had drudged up that fact, and it was duly necessary for them to take many precautions.

Betrayed.

Just as it had been obtained, their prize had been snatched away: "Kathleen's Tear." The jewel that had been passed down in Prompt for centuries on end--a symbol of royalty, power, but not absolute. For all intents and purposes, it was just to be that: a symbol. Although the loss of it should not have effected the government of Prompt in a more-than-harsh way, it was a royal treasure, and therefore of significant importance. It was the moment that they met the man in the dark hood, who wordlessly snatched pendant from them, only to rip the jewel out if it right before their eyes, that they were located. All had perished. All but one. One sole survivor.

It was the leader--the girl. The youngest of the group. What happened to her allies, only she may have known. Their attackers had not survived to tell the tale, though; all were dead, and it was that exact reason that she had the opportunity to get out. Dark creatures, beings that could barely even be seen. It was only their eyes which one could behold, the cold, malicious, crimson eyes, and the bloodthirsty growls. Those men were eaten alive. And they were not among the few. They were not the only ones to be dragged harshly into the shadows, to become the meals of creatures that shunned the light. Creatures that hated the light, and all who bore it.

And once the girl was out, she had what was becoming of Drai City to behold: the darkness was a plague. Fires spread across the city, engulfing portions in flames, threatening to spread further. And there was nothing to stop it. Those that could were otherwise occupied, for the same creatures that "saved" the girl's life had taken the lives of others. Many, many others. It was night by then; the creatures could very well have been swarming for hours by this point. It may have even been debatable if there was life left in Drai City. This had been so . . . sudden, but the moment could be pinpointed. It wasn't long after that the hooded man took their prize that people began to disappear.

Anger.

A disgusting, stomach-churning anger had taken root deep into the survivor’s body. Her eyes glared bloodthirstily from every which direction, always in constant movement, and never resting to focus on any one thing. She couldn’t allow herself to relax, she had to stay focus or she’d pass out, and at the worst case -- die. Fear was on the edge of her mind, threatening to take over, but she wouldn’t allow it. Not yet, not while the others had sacrificed themselves for her.

It was routine work, easy work. A job like this? Even a new recruit would’ve been able to accomplish it. And they had done so, quickly, and all too professionally. Nobody knew they had been there, they didn’t leave even the faintest of traces, and so the question kept popping up -- how did the group of ghosts get caught? No, it wasn’t even that simple -- there would be no dungeons for any of them it seemed. They were massacred. Slaughtered. They didn’t go down without a fight, though. Oh no, mission priority automatically shifts when they’re overwhelmed. At this point, the group had succeeded in protecting their leader. Their leader’s leader would’ve been proud.

An overwhelming sense of nausea would begin to over take her as she remembered her companions, her allies, and family. Lacking the strength to force back her own vomit the foul substance would gurgle to the back of her throat and from her mouth it’d cover her ragged, blood soaked clothing. Or what was left of her clothing, that is.

She didn’t care though: no “ew”, no “ugh”, and no painful moan. She barely recognized the fact that it had just occurred, her sight was blurred, and her movement sluggish. She had used the wall of the palace to make it this far, and with one foot in front of the other -- she could do nothing but continue. On pure instinct she avoided the shadows, she couldn’t see eyes, or a crimson glow -- she just knew to stay away. And so she did just that, as she made her way out of the palace, and into the very streets of hell.

She already knew the situation. You don’t smell burning flesh in this type of city, no. Before today… Before tonight, this would’ve been a safe place. But now fires were sprouting up and the young girl couldn’t even hear screams. It couldn’t even be called chaos without screams -- this was something different.

Chichiue, she mouthed.

To be honest it had all happened so fast. She could barely recount it and probably would never be able to fully detail what had happened. She felt ashamed but more so there was a sense of satisfaction … Small but completely justified satisfaction in her continued survival. Self-preservation techniques were conditioned firmly into the girls’ mind. She knew she had to find a means to apply first aid to her wounds. There seemed to be more blood on her than in her. A normal person would’ve passed out or died but she wasn’t normal. Still, she needed to either find help or quickly patch herself up or all hopes of finding her father to tell him what had happened would be lost. And by the Gods, there would be hell to pay when she had recovered.

How was she going to explain everything, though? Demons came from nowhere and everywhere all at once? They pounced on whatever lived within a moment’s notice and cut them to pieces, butchered, and ate them? It was something out of a gothic novel. This wasn’t happening. It couldn’t be happening.

But it was and she could do nothing but go forwards. The streets were empty, devoid of life, but perhaps that was for the best. There was no telling what had done this damage -- why it had happened.

Chichiue, she whispered again.

Eventually the young girl would find herself braced against a building, it wasn’t on fire, and nothing seemed to be around. It was apparently the best luck she'd have all night -- she allowed herself to slide down onto the ground, her knees brought to her chest, and her arms wrapped around them. Soon, she’d find new clothes and supplies. She’d fix herself up … Soon.

... There was ... Someone else? ...

She was not alone--and it was not just the creatures that now inhabited and stalked the area. Fortunately, there were none around her. She'd have become prey, otherwise. Prey like those who died for her sake. No, this was something else to worry about: another human being, perhaps, and in the blink of an eye. Indeed, the girl had but blinked once, before he was before her.

"Hey, still alive," the man stated, his tone--young--being one of pure amusement. "Impressive."

He stood with his arms over his chest, a form fitting long coat clinging to his body, its black, leather make mirroring the skin of those black creatures. It came down to his ankles. The hood of this coat was up, but the cowl still allowed for a bit to be seen: namely his lips, forever grinning. Because of his coat's style, it was easy to tell that he was young--no older than eighteen, no younger than fifteen.

"Not for too long, though," he remarked, all the while stroking his chin, "The shades have started to run out of food. They've probably milked this place dry by now. I'd give it five minutes, maybe ten. Looks like that's all the time you have to get out. No where near enough, don't you think? I 'spose it's just to be expected, though!"

With excessive indulgence, the man stepped back with a kick, landing upon one foot and practically spinning, arms out to the sky. He was dancing. Dancing in the ruins, dancing in the sullen serenity. There was nothing left for chaos to reign over, there could only be peace. True peace, with a land no longer touched by human hands. Bodies were not even left behind; everything could and would be consumed. He stopped his display of sadism, before taking steps forward and halting himself before the girl. And then, he bent over, enough to almost be at the same level as her.

"But the real question is:" the man continued joyously as he held out his hand towards her, palm open and facing the sky, as if inviting her to take his hand, "How does that make you feel?"

When the young man first appeared the girl’s face was buried into her knees, her arms still wrapped around her legs, and not a sound coming from her body. It was amazing that he could even tell she was alive, likewise it wasn’t until he spoke that she actually lifted her head. However; it would not be two eyes that looked at him but three. An extra eye had taken root into her forehead; it was odd, and nearly featureless -- looking almost like a tattoo.

It wasn’t until a few seconds had passed before she realized the man’s attire, she couldn’t se his face very well, nor had she seen the other’s. She felt as her face flushed with anger once again, what had once slightly receded was now back in full force, and her jaws clenched. The idiot spun around, danced around, and talked as though he had all the time in the world -- as though he was far above her. She could break him. It would’ve been easy, even in her current state of exhaustion. The way he moved … The way he talked. It didn’t look like he was much of a threat, physically -- of course he may have possessed other abilities. But …

“W-who!?” She finally asked, her voice catching, and her inability to control the volume obvious -- perhaps blood was clogging her ears now.

He had already begun speaking. He spoke of nonsense? Anarchy? No, human extinction? It didn’t matter. Humans were garbage as far as the girl was concerned, she wasn’t in the mood to argue against it, and it wouldn’t have felt right anyways. After all, she was who she was.

“Fe-~--elu?” She asked, repeating the word, rolling it around her tongue as though she were getting a feel for the word and its meaning.

With his hand now held out to her several thoughts crossed her mind -- she could, after all; take it and crush it into a very fine powder. Unless he was a shadow himself, chances were he wouldn’t have been able to get away from her, but at the same time … She wasn’t stupid. She couldn’t survive on her on in her current state.

She took it.

Even if his initial intention was to pull away before she could, he would’ve found it impossible. She gripped his hand but it would’ve been no stronger than a normal girl holding his hand. Indeed, she’d use him to pull herself up -- wincing as pain ran through her entire body -- but overall, she was fine. The bleeding had stopped, slightly, and she was strong enough to continue forwards. She’d still have to dress her wounds but they didn’t appear fatal anymore.

"怒って." She answered, finally.

"That's a good feeling," replied the young man.

He stood up while holding her hand, allowing her to use him as leverage to pull herself up. It certainly would serve neither of them any good if either of the two were huddled up on the ground as she had been, face buried in the backs of her knees. No one could retain coherency in such a state--no good at all!

The response of the girl was greatly enjoyable. Though he had already seemed invariably amused, his face brightened up even more, and his grin widened from casual to breaching the potential of sadistic. Fortunately, she would experience no harm, but she had certainly piqued the man's interest!

"You should hold it close," he continued, borderline ready to go on a rant, but restraining himself from such: truly, there wasn't much time. "But . . . do you even know who you should be directing that feeling towards?"

The Grinning Man bent down, close enough to the girl's face that she'd be able to see some details--namely his eyes. A hazy blue stared at the girl, but seemed to dance with excitement, contrary to his grin, which was calm, collected, but haughty at the same time. Amused was the best way to describe him. Permanently amused. His was not a jovial amusement, however; more than anything, it was a chaotic, destructive pleasure, one that could not be described in any way as fruitful or innocent.

"Or would you rather me . . . inform you?"

The girl didn’t bother speaking until after the other had finished. She was only comfortable with one language and was already exhausted; she wasn’t in the mood for talking. Period.

Regardless; her silence quickly changed when the boy made it seem as though he knew what had happened -- who had betrayed them. At least, that was her guess.
“Who?” She asked again, although this time she wasn’t referring to the mysterious individual, but to who had slaughtered her team. “ … Was it?”

She had let go of the other’s hand, despite the state she was in she was prepared for anything, and wouldn’t be taken off guard. She obviously wasn’t all that happy about her situation -- she was horribly injured, although; she was also surprisingly comfortable at the moment.

Her left hand would run the length of her hair, gliding through the knotted and bloodied mass of tangles while she thought for a moment.

“R-..sth.” She stumbled, “Who you?”

The boy’s demeanor was annoying, aggravating even. But he seemed to know exactly what was going on -- and he was alright with it. This led the young girl, Yona; to believe he was more than just connected with the events. He could have even helped them transpire. But this was something she couldn't be bothered to worry about right now, if she was right about him then he'd have to eventually be dealt with, but if she wasn't right then he could prove to be a decent and disposable ally. This wasn't the time for them to be conversing so nonchalantly, either -- no matter how much she wanted to know the identity of who had betrayed them and caused such ... havoc, she wasn't fond of dying just yet.

“Shouldn't we get out of here? I, we, need to go."

"Aha . . . you do want to know, then," the young man stated with his hands upon his hips.

He had since disengaged from the girl, shortly after she had been able to stand up on her own. There was no reason to keep holding onto her once she was standing; she could cling to bricks if it was support she was looking for. If it wasn't obvious before that, this man wasn't particularly here for her sake alone.

"My name . . ." he stepped back, bowing low and at his hips whilst he slid his hood down, off of his head . . .

The man before her had a young face--he couldn't have been older than fifteen or sixteen. His dark brown hair seemed black in the little light provided by the late evening, and it seemed as if growing facial hair was difficult for him. Even still, he had a certain roughness about his face, regardless of how young he appeared.

"Is Brenden. And I work for two men," "One by the name of Sturm, and the other . . . goes by the name "Sobiadin." Now, I should say that I had nothing to do with this, but I suppose guilt by association is going to be justifiable in that little heart of yours. We may not have the time to escape, but believe me when I say . . ."

Brenden unzipped his coat down to diaphragm level, allowing himself the opportunity to reach into his coat and withdraw a very small item. The jewel. Kathleen's Tear. It was held between his index and middle fingers, dangling over the ground. He had not been the one that stole it, though: without a doubt, it was someone else. Someone stalkier, wider, and a bit more muscular. Most likely older, too. But still, that did not excuse the fact that Brenden had the very item that the girl's team had given their lives whilst searching for.

"I'm here to help you."

“!?” The girl gasped at the jewel the man held out -- if he had indeed stolen it from the mysterious individual that had taken it from Yona’s team then perhaps he was on her side to some extent. Of course, this also raised the question of how he had managed to get it so … fast. It hadn’t been that long since the jewel was in the other’s possession, after all. “H-how did you …” She paused … Disbelief was written all over her face. However; she’d take a few seconds to compose herself --
“Is it real? How would I know if it was?”

Now the girl was far more confused than before, if he had managed to switch the stone with a fake before they arrived, or swipe it from the mystery man after he had stolen it -- he’d have to be of similar skill as her father or any of the other seasoned operatives employed by the organization. Of course, that didn’t mean if her father came falling from the atmosphere with his fist pulled back that the boy would survive. Far from it.

“I guess you wouldn’t be so kind as to hand over my jewel and your clothes, huh?” She faked a pout for a few seconds and then a smile -- just as fake. She needed that jewel ... And she was going to have it.

That was a complete 360. She had gone from angry, to surprised, to friendly--going so far as to pout and act like a needy child. If Brenden already hadn't been grinning, he would have grinned from ear to ear. This girl was just funny. It was too bad he couldn't just cart her around with him.

How could he not impart this lovely jewel upon her? It would take one cold-hearted son-of-a-bitch to deprive the child of that which she worked so hard for! There was only so much to give, though. Brenden wasn't as willing to provide clothing for her--namely because of the lack of necessity behind it. After all, what did she have to hide? What was decency in this country when Prompt had all but gone to hell?

"The jewel? Of course," replied Brenden, "The clothes? Nope. Sorry. Let's take a little stroll first, shall we? I can guarantee your safety."

--but not yet. Brenden stood up straight again, pocketing the jewel once more. He turned on his heels and began to walk, motioning for the girl to follow. He was going slow, though. Even in her injured state, she'd be able to keep up--but to snatch the jewel from him was a different story. At the moment she may very well have had the only option of following this young man.

"This has been happenin' a lot recently. Didn't you know that?" Brenden started, breaking into a pseudo-rant, "These creatures--these shades. Literally every land in this world has seen 'em. 'Cept this one. It took a damn long time for them to come here, and . . . it just . . . it just boggles the mind, doesn't it? Why this place seemed so impervious to these little critters, 'til one teensy, tiny change came about . . ."

She would have to let the clothes slide, after all. Still -- the fact that he was so willing to give her the stone was a plus, at least … It beat the alternative. She wasn’t in any condition to fight for it and her life.
She followed obediently enough and keeping up wasn’t a problem -- her wounds were barely troublesome now, it was weird, but also an after thought.

“Yes, I know of them to an extent.” She replied to his first question, but was unsure of what to say to his second. She thought for a moment -- Yona wasn’t familiar with this particular stretch of land. After all, she was a sheltered child up until just recently …

“Recently?” She asked, “as in coincidently after the jewel was removed? Or did that not have an effect on the shadows at all?”

One second she was employed by mysterious people, the next she has the jewel in hand, but then the world decides implode. If he was asking her, then he either had a point to make, or was acknowledging that the jewel was far more important than it was let on … Of course, she could be horribly mistaken and the thing wasn't even related. And if that was the case, her team, and her friends were slaughtered for no reason at all.

“So, what happened? Why now? If it was because of that stone ... Why? What's so special about it?”

"You catch on quick," Brenden chimed happily.

Just too precious. How old is this kid, anyways? Not that it mattered in the end, but Brenden was remotely curious. She was pretty intelligent, though it wasn't like he had given her a multiple choice question. Really, it was more of a question with two answers, with only one of them correct. That particular answer just so happened to be the most obvious choice, too.

"See, this little jewel is special, just as you suspected," Brenden began as he walked, skipping ahead just a bit in order to turn and walk backwards, facing the girl--Yona--the entire time. "This little jewel has been passed down in the Prompt royal family for hundreds of years, and has never once left this country. And so, it's never once experienced one single shade. When suddenly, Sturm hires you and your team to retrieve this item. And once you have, and once you're out where you can be seen, he comes up and takes it from you."

Obviously, Brenden was one to rant. Essentially, he was telling Yona all that she already knew, outlining the entirety of her mission up to the point when it was received to the moment that it failed. Or had it failed? She had retrieved it, and her employer had obtained it from her . . .

"And then, he removes it from this world entirely. What's the result?"

It was about that point that the shades were much more noticeable. Each seemed to have their own figures, but when standing next to one another, blended in. Masses of shadows crawled the rooftops and the streets, and over the course of their little jaunt, they had been dutifully followed by a growing mass. The shadows were blending, and on either side of the street, all the two would inevitably see became countless pairs of crimson eyes--and on the rooftops? it was the same. Even windows were inhabited by these creatures. They were everywhere. Crawling, walking, running, moving along with them, but never breaching their personal space . . .

They had run out of food.

"Well, see for yourself . . ." Brenden held out his arms, "If it were my guess, I'd venture to say that they might just be afraid of this li'l jewel."

The shadow’s company wasn’t much welcomed. In fact, the girl wasn’t too fond of ever seeing one of the creatures again -- but here they were. Completely oblivious to her preference of not being killed, eaten, absorbed, and other such horrible fates that most likely awaited her at the end of the day.
“Ah,” she mouthed. “I guess they’re not coming closer because of the jewel? It wouldn’t happen to have a different setting, right? It did keep them away from an entire city, after all.”

Her attitude was different from before, different from her usual self. It wasn’t because of blood loss, though -- although it may have contributed to the change. No, it was already obvious that the man seemed somewhat fascinated with her. If making use of the boy and ensuring her own survival meant degrading herself or watering down her personality, those were sins she was willing to bare, but that didn’t mean for a second she wasn’t serious. If only he knew ...

“So the question that’s bothering me -- Brenden-san.” She said suddenly, “this jewel was taken from the city, from this world, but now you have it. Why do you have it? How did you get it? And why are you willing to hand it over?”

Slowly her eyes rolled around the area, slower yet they moved back onto the shadows that had now become even more obvious, but ... there was nothing to really use. Granted, random articles of debris weren't going to do much good against the shadows -- there were just far too many and if they chose to advance, she may actually end up dead this time, but she would have to rely on Brenden still. Embarrassing.

"Correct," Brenden replied to Yona's guess, "But without the rest of the pendant, this is just about all the protection it can give. Funny, ain't it?"

The jewel was then withdrawn from his pocket again. As if admiring it, Brenden held it up, with the flames spreading across the city causing a glint in the jewel. The Tear of Kathleen. It really was funny. They never truly knew why they were protecting it.

"Well, you see--I stole it," he then said bluntly.

Brenden held it out again, letting her get a good look. Removed from the rest of the pendant, the jewel was actually quite small, but clearly the same jewel that she had been searching for. There would be absolutely no doubt about that. It was still small, though; just a tiny bit less than half the length of a grown man's index finger, and only centimeters wide. It was small enough that it was best to hold it between one's index finger and thumb.

"And I never said I was going to give it to you." Actually, he did. If anything, this was proof enough that he wasn't the most trustworthy human being on the planet. It also didn't help that he openly admitted to stealing from a man who he claimed to be working for. Loyalty just didn't seem to be Brenden's strong point . . . "Rather, I wanted to trade. You see, Sturm is a scientist. Almost everything he does in his life is devoted to science. Like this! Unleashing all these shades to kill so many innocent people--tragic, isn't it? But the experiment has good intentions, you know. Sturm and some of his li'l "creations" are scowering this place right now, looking for their results. Now! I've spent a lot of time around Sturm, and let me tell you . . . he's pretty inspiring. I want to do a little science, myself. So, what do you say? You participate in my experiment, and I give you the soon-to-be most important artifact in history. No strings attached."

The young girl looked at the other and a sense of distaste washed over her like no one would believe. It was annoying but she wouldn’t argue about participating just yet. Instead, why not gather more information?
“Depends.” She spoke, smoothly. Different. “What kind of … experiment? And how would I know you’d do good on your part? You could just say you’ll give me the stone and then, after your experiment, dispose of the loose ends, and keep the stone for yourself -- quite a wonderful toy, too.”

Her lungs filled with air and she begun speaking again: “I want a down payment. A formal contract between your party and mine. Our former employer is soon to pay the consequences of betraying us. He just doesn’t know it yet or who he’s crossed -- and I’m not talking about myself.”

“Tell me more of the experiment,” she spoke again. “After all, if you really want to do this you’ll be just as willing to make as large a sacrifice as I did today, right? Or are you as unprofessional as you seem, Brenden?”

Her words meshed together well -- she would not be crossed again.

Perfect.

"Heh . . . hah . . . hahaha! Haha~!!" Brenden laughed, practically bowling over and holding his stomach, "You . . . you're too good! God, how I wish we'd meet again someday!"

He grinned. He laughed. He'd have laughed so hard that he'd even cry a little, if he let himself. Of course, he didn't let himself go too far--not like that. That'd just be embarrassing! Not that it mattered any. He didn't plan to see this girl ever again after today.

"You got me all wrong, though" Brenden announced as he held the jewel up again, "See, I don't need this. Shades won't touch me. They need a good reason to touch me. Don't get me wrong, they've had 'em before. But if I don't intimidate 'em, they ignore me, I ignore them. It's a perfect relationship."

"No--no, don't worry. I'm giving this to you," Brenden reassured as he took a step back, "It's your down payment. After this, you're never gonna to see or hear of me again. All you have to do is stand still. Or . . . or, I could always just leave you here, without this li'l artifact. It's either gonna be a win-win situation for the both of us, or a lose-lose situation. Y'know what I mean?"

Professionalism was optional. There were ups and downs to it. On one hand, it was respectful and all that jazz, and sometimes just made everything more civil and easier, but in the other hand, it often took a little extra time. Professionalism, honor, respect--what was the point of it, if all it was going to do was waste time? For men like Brenden, that was optional. That was only needed when one had to act like a chameleon in a tricky situation--and he had already put on that new skin. Their situation was dark, and so was he.