Daisho Con

Danny Jacobs just finished pulling an empty tray from the rack to replace it with a new tray full of quarter pounder meat. Danny hated working at McDonald's, but it was a job and he needed money. He had been in debt ever since he bought his own car and had to start to pay his parents for insurance. Today he had looked through three newspapers looking for other jobs, but none seemed to pay nearly as much as McDonald's did.
“Danny, are you leaving?” Joan said in her usual annoyed tone.
“Ya, I have a date tonight and I’ve been here since eleven.” Danny said as he removed his apron.
“Well you’re going to have to stay until nine!” Joan belted out with the most evil smirk Danny had ever seen.
“That’s not going to work, like I said I have a date, it’s at eight.”
“Then I guess your going to call and cancel your date if you want to keep your job!” Joan had this way of making every person on the world hate her, but Danny also knew Joan loved to torment him for her own amusement.
“Well Joan, then I guess I quit,” Danny said as he threw down is apron and walked out with Joan screaming at the top of her lungs.
Danny started his car and had to turn down the volume of his radio. He had it loud earlier for his music, but since he just started the car the CD wasn't loaded in the player and it was the radio that was blaring. While he turned the volume down, the radio was talking about some disturbance two states over in Iowa. He didn’t care and pushed the button to switch the player from radio to CD. He then relaxed and let heavy metal drown out the noise of the outside world.
The drive home was filled with thoughts of the night and the date. The twenty minute drive seemed to be over before he had even thought about it. When Danny got to his house, he parked his car, went inside, and got dressed. It wasn't a “super formal dress occasion” as Danny would say it, but he still wanted to look nice. So he put on a button-up shirt and dress pants. He then went and sat down to watch TV until Cheri arrived.
Danny had it planned that Cheri would be dropped off at his house and then he would drive her home after the date. They were going to go to a semi formal Italian restaurant and a movie afterwards. At around eight he began to get worried, since she still hadn't arrived or phoned. They had planned on her getting dropped off at seven. He picked up his phone and dialed the number he had dialed many times before, but to his surprise, when he put the receiver to his ear, he heard a message he had never heard before, “We are sorry for the inconvenience but at this time all phone lines are being reserved for military and police personnel.”
Danny's distress multiplied as he listened to the message, but he didn't know what to do. He decided that he needed to know what was going on, so he turned around and turned on the TV. A lot of the stations had recently started their new programs, but more and more stations cut to breaking news casts, and they were talking about something that couldn’t be true. He switched the TV to channel 15, the only news channel he liked.
“Good evening ladies and gentlemen, sorry to interrupt your regular programing, but we have breaking news. As of the current moment, the government has yet to release a statement on what some people are calling the end of days. As many of you, the viewers, already know, the dead are rising and attacking the living. At the current moment we advise all viewers to lock all windows and doors and move to the safest room in your house.” Danny couldn't believe this, it was like one of those zombie movies, but real. He quickly locked the doors and windows and went upstairs to his room to use his computer. He turned the TV behind him to the same station and went on the Internet to learn more. He surfed and learned that those that are bitten by the walking dead die six to eight hours afterwards, and then they, too, rise from the dead. Since a single bite from any of the walking dead is infectious it is spreading very quickly. He then found the site he was looking for, a whole site devoted to killing the walking dead...again.
The site detailed events of minor outbreaks all the way back to the forties but most were covered up. In the reports the army trained groups of soldiers on how to battle the undead. But most of these reports were lost, but one sentence in bold caught Danny’s attention. “The head is their weakness; destroy the head by any means!” That was all the info that he needed. He moved downstairs and went to the closet and found his baseball bat. Danny put on his coat and unlocked his front door. As Danny climbed into his car he saw the pictures of Cheri and his parents on his dashboard. He wondered if Cheri and his parents were alright, but he then remember that his parents were on a trip in Antarctica, so he figured that they would be safe.
The car roared to life, and Danny turned on the lights, only to get the biggest shock in his life. There in front of his car was a person covered in blood, moaning, and that person was his old neighbor, Mr. Erikson, who had to be at least sixty. Mr. Erikson was missing his left eye, and also the area was gushing blood, making it look like a fresh wound. His left hand only had three fingers, and the ones what were missing look as if they had been bitten off. Mr. Erikson shuffled towards Danny and hit his car, and then began to climb on the hood of the car towards Danny. He had almost no time to react to the sight. He slammed the car into reverse and floored the gas. Danny shot back just as Mr. Erikson was about to slam through the windshield. Mr Erikson rolled off of the front of the car and onto the ground, only to rise and begin to move towards Danny again. Danny looked forward into the city he was about to enter. He saw a pillar of smoke that seemed to never end and knew that this wasn’t about to be the easiest thing to do. He knew that he might die, but he had to do it. Mr. Erikson shambled after Danny’s car and moaned once more. His slow walk with the slight limp prevented him from following very far. Suddenly he heard a scream to his right, and for Mr. Erikson, that meant that someone was going to become his next meal.
Driving through outer Milwaukee, Danny saw the horror in the reality of the situation. The dead were lying everywhere, along with the shambling bodies of those who were now undead. Almost everyone that was dead looked as if they had been devoured, those that didn’t usually got up and slowly followed after his car. Only once did he hit a zombie, and it more or less bounced off the front of his car. This made Danny think of what Cheri must be going through, and every time Danny thought of that, he slowly pushed the pedal down more.
He drove over the big hill that was before the turn to Cheri’s house, and he saw something that he really didn't think would be there and didn't expect. A road block, and a big one at that, made of buses and trucks. Danny slammed on the brakes but it wasn’t enough, he slammed into the barricade, and knocked his head into the steering wheel and was out cold.
Dannye awoke some time afterwards and found that the only thing he could move was his head. Then he heard moaning and knew he was in trouble, but could do nothing about it. He was able to turn his head to the left to see the approaching creature. It was not what he was expecting, but something he would have to deal with. The figure stumbling towards him was Cheri.

Fumbling, he slid the shells one by one into the bottom of his shotgun. Liquid dripped into his eyes, blinding him with the sting. Blood, sweat, at this point it didn’t matter. None of them were going to make it out alive.
With a satisfying click, he pumped the weapon, loading two of the rounds into the barrels. Gunfire flashed overhead as his unit tried to hold out against them, but hope was waning. A terrible screaming rushed through the air, and he felt a wave of heat as one of the last artillery emplacements exploded in a ball of fire. Now he knew they’d never hold them back.
With the last major defense out of the way, the walkers were sent in. Beastly machines nearly 5 stories tall, the walkers carried a single turret mounted gun that could pierce armor plating, concrete, and flesh as if it were paper. Over his radio embedded in his helmet, he heard the commander give the fall back order.
His breathing came in short, shallow breaths. As building collapsed around him, dust from their demolition blew into the air, jamming weapons and choking the men. He began to run back, retreating from the front line as bullets and artillery shells flew past his head. Through the smoke and haze he was able to make out the outline of his commander, standing in a ruined doorway, waving him through to freedom, only twenty meters away.
The air around him screamed, and without any other warning he flew into the air, shards of concrete and other debris pelting his face. He lay there on the rubble, dazed. He tried moving, hoping it would clear his head and give him some feeling. Slowly, he felt responses from all four of his limbs, but something about them just didn’t feel… right. He shook his head and began standing up. Between the light streaming into the ruined building, the dust in the air, and the aftershocks of the bullets flying past, the room had an almost angelic feel to it. He turned, looking at the black-suited soldiers who were stepping towards him, rifles raised. He felt that if he was going to die, at least here it would feel right.
Here he could die a noble death.
He raised his shotgun to his shoulder, flipping the safety to fire both rounds in its barrels at once. He pointed at the front line of soldiers and pulled the trigger. The point man fell instantly, dead before he hit the debris. The soldier marching next to him dropped his weapon and held his hands up to his helmet, screaming. He pumped the shotgun again and fired once more, dropping one more soldier. He pumped and fired one last time, taking out another soldier.
The fire that had been concentrated on the doorway stopped as the men turned to face their new target. He knew that he didn’t have enough time to reload the shotgun, so he dropped it, pulling out the pistol he kept in his belt. Firing into the blurring sea of black in front of him, he stepped backward, trying to make his way to the door. The air turned from an angelic white to a demonic red as he fired and stepped back, reloading his magazine as he moved. As he pulled the trigger again and again, he coughed, feeling warm blood on his lips.
Everything began to feel heavy, and his arms began to lose their strength. He looked into the doorway, expecting to see the faces of his commanders and comrades… but all that was in there was a pile of concrete, rubble created when an artillery round hit the building dead on. Out of the rubble, the arm of his commander hung out, a dire warning to stay away from the enclosed deathtrap.
He knew what his only option left was.
His pistol emptied, he let it fall to the floor, reaching for the cylinder in his back pocket. Grunt infantry like him were only supplied one… he always joked it was so that he could go out on his own terms. Turned out he was right.
He stumbled forward, pulling the pin from the cylinder as his body armor shattered entirely, letting round after round through into the vulnerable torso behind. Blood began to pour out of his mouth as he staggered to the front of them. As the nearest unit fired his rifle into his leg, he fell, letting the canister fall out of his fingers.
He saw a flash, and smiled.

Here I am, breathing my last breath. It wasn't always this way, I used to be a happy person. Now my life is almost at an end, I have everything to regret, and no one to forgive. I guess it all started Christmas day, 1994.
It was a cold winter morning, I had just finished shoveling the walkway in front of my house. It took me a bit longer than it had the morning before because I had stayed up late, and now was regretting it. I had a job interview that day at two o'clock. CD World was hiring and since at the time I needed a job, liked music, and enjoyed people, it only made sense. I opened the door and found a familiar sight. My mother and father-in-law consummating their marriage on our couch. I went in, took off my snow clothes, and walked upstairs as if I hadn't seen anything. The wall on the stairs was littered with pictures of my mother and I, and more recent ones of my stepfather, none of my real father.
I headed to my room and just fell onto the bed. I reached over and turned on the clock radio. Public radio was the only way to go in those days. I lived and breathed public radio and similar news shows on TV. I changed my clothes, to be presentable, and turned my computer on. The hard drive's hum dulled out the sound of my parents downstairs. My computer screen snapped to life and filled my vision with the colors of the Windows logo. I had close to an hour before the interview, so I decided to play minesweeper. Minesweeper dulled my senses towards the outside world. I could sit and play minesweeper for hours. The minutes ticked by until it was a half of an hour from the interview. I turned off my computer, and was again greeted with the sound of my parents. I quickly ran downstairs seeing that my parents were a bit too busy to give me a ride.
The garage door slowly moved up as the twenty year old electric opener tried it hardest to not die. I entered the garage and took out my bike, it wasn't the best bike, but I never had the drive to buy a better one. I jumped on and drove towards my interview. CD World was about a 5 minute car drive away, and about fifteen or twenty minutes on bike. I hurried, since I didn't want to be late. About sixteen minutes later I arrived at CD World. It was still a little bit before the interview, so I straightened my shirt, and caught my breath. I checked my watch and headed in. I was a bit unsure, but there was nothing that I could have done because the interview was in a minute. I walked in and up to the cash register. The cashier was a girl around her twenties, with black and blonde hair, and from her interaction with other customers, it looked as if she also had a bit of an attitude.
“Excuse me, miss” I said in the nicest voice I could muster.
“What?”She turned her head and gave me a look that could have killed an elephant.
“I'm here for an interview at two...”I trailed off as she turned away from me and went back to serving the customers at the cash register. “Excuse me, Miss!”
“I heard you the first time, keep your panties out of a bundle and I'll get to you in a minute.” About five minutes later, she had finished checking out the last of the customers at the cash register. “Ok, so you want a job here, huh?”
“Yes, I mean if it isn't going to be too much trouble.” I looked down, not wanting to keep eye contact.
“First off, you need to grow a pair if your going to work here.” Her harshness was relieving, since I was, at the time, trying quite hard to be formal and non-offensive. “We've had a few other people come in today, but none of them were nearly as cute.” as she finished saying this I perked up and looked back at her. She was eying me a bit, and it had felt uncomfortable, but I thought, “If it helps me get the job.”
“So I get off in ten minutes, meet me at my van in the back, and we'll see how committed to getting this job you are.” She then turned back to the register, and pretended that I didn't exist. This caught me off guard. My girlfriend wouldn't approve, but I really needed that job, so that thought never even crossed my mind. I went outside and sat on a bench and waited for the end of the ten minutes. The girl at the register wasn't bad looking at all, and if I wasn't already in a relationship at the time, I might have made a pass at her, but I was involved. So I just planned to let happen what was going to happen, and then put the whole thing out of my mind. The ten minutes passed more quickly than I had thought and soon I was heading towards the back of the store.
There was only one vehicle, just a black van. I walked up to the van and knocked on the side door. The door slide open, but I wasn't greeted by the sight of the girl, it was a person with a ski mask on and a baseball bat in hand. The person hit me before I could turn around and run. The hit landed right on my forehead. The dull thud of my body hitting the ground is the only thing I heard as I drifted out of consciousness.
I have no memory of what happed for quite a while afterwards. I awoke some time later strapped to a table, in a room with no lights. I felt the leather straps holding me down, they were tight, tight enough to hold me with out cutting off circulation. I heard foot steps coming closer, and they stopped at the table. “Where am I?” I said with an unsure attitude. No one answered me, and for a while I just laid in silence and darkness. Suddenly something grabbed my face and turned it sideways. I cried out, but it was no good. The hand holding my head was strong, but it was also soft and feminine. “Please, please, I'll do anything, don't kill me.” I pleaded, I didn't want to die, but there was nothing I could do. I was completely at her mercy. I assumed that it was the girl at the register, but I couldn't be sure until I felt a face come close to mine and whisper in my ear.
“Don't struggle or it will only hurt more.” The voice was the same as the girl and didn't make me feel any better. The hand that turned my head sideways applied more pressure as the side of my face was smashed into the cold metal of the table. I could feel fingers dance along my neck for a second. Then suddenly the white hot awareness of pain filled me as something pierced my neck. It didn't stop, but continued to be in my neck, around the pain I could feel wet softness. “I am being bitten,” I thought. The pain increased as she began to suck on the already tender wound. I lay there, bound, and feeling weaker and weaker with each passing second. I began to feel very sleepy, but I fought to stay awake, fought with every ounce of strength I had, since thats all I could do. Suddenly, as I was just about fall into unconsciousness, the pain faded. My neck still hurt, but I wasn't being bit anymore. I could feel the wound bleeding, not as bad as a wound on the neck should, but that was because I was partially drained of blood.
That brings us to where I am now, still lying on the table bleeding out. I feel life fleeting from me, and the coldness of eternal sleep coming closer and closer. I hear the steps once again approach, I start to squirm, but bonded to the table I can do nothing. The steps stop, and I prepare for the pain in my neck to start again, but it doesn't. Something wet drips on my mouth. Its warm, and soon more falls on my face. The thought of poison crosses my mind, but at this point I didn't care. My throat was dry and I lapped in it. It was sweet and salty at the same time. The more I have the more I want, I call out for it, but I get no response. I sit here for a while, but nothing happens. Again I call out for more, this time I get a response. “Thats enough for now, but you will be mine by next sunset,” and with those words the person turns around and walks, the steps fading as they get farther and farther away.

It’s a bit odd that they would leave me to record her story. After all, when you think of our odd little trio you would never think I’d be first pick to write anything. Most people assume that I can’t even sit still for more than a few minutes at a time, and while that may be true, I owe far too much to Sayaku not to immortalize her tale. If there exists a woman I love, it’s her. She’ll always be the only one I’ll be able to maintain a companionship with. You may assume I’m sexist by saying that, but I can’t very well deny the fact that it’s true. But I’m getting off topic, this is her story… Not mine. If it was mine you’d probably have scorned it on sight.

Sayaku can’t really be described, at least to an adequate level; words seem to falter at the ethereal qualities that circle about her person. Most would suppose that’s simply because she’s not human, but I believe that she’s special, even among our kind. To me she will forever be a goddess condemned to live in a world among men, yet never has she allowed herself to feel pity on her own account. A bit unfair in my eyes, considering that she would jump to do the smallest amount of good for another person. Though I suppose it’s just another thing that could very well qualify her for sainthood. If I was religious I would have nominated her for the position myself. However, me being… Well, me. I never fit in too well with religion of any age.

I suppose if I had to describe her in words I would start with her appearance. Unlike me, I doubt Sayaku’s ever given a care to her appearance, and would dismiss any compliments upon hearing them, with an innate modesty. If you were to fish around for other opinions; you’d likely get replies such as: “Beautiful” and “Divine” and “Lovely”.

And I would bet that all of those questioned would trail off, unable to describe the otherworldly beauty that envelopes her in its grace. Her hair is a deep, almost ironic, shade of raven: so dark it doesn’t even catch the occasional sheen of navy most ebony tends to reflect. Though I’m not about to say that her long, knee-length hair, lacks luster… If anything, there’s more shine in one single follicle of that onyx mane than an entire head of most others. Perhaps even more than my own, of which I’ve been offered countless compliments: the orchid colored strands of similar lengths. In a sharp contrast her flawless, unmarred skin is so pale, even paler than my own, it seems that she was printed in black and white. That characteristic must have been acquired from her time spent in the world of death.

Oh, didn’t I mention? Sayaku belonged to a tribe of necromancers, who protected the border between the two worlds from reversed crossings. Though she has never explained the entire process to me, as it’s a sacred rite meant only for her Tribe, and now, meant solely for her.

Yet another thing that amazes me about this woman: the soul survivor of a complete genocide, and the last of her kind, she continues her work with an unparalleled resolve. I’ve never seen her shed so much a tear from her useless eyes. The eyes she lost during the attack. She never ceases to astound me, you’d never think she was blind the way she carries herself.
It’s pathetic really, she can do so much after such a traumatic past, and I couldn’t even escape a destructive relationship without her help. Not to mention, it’s due to her intervention (on several occasions) that I found him, although he swore on several accounts that he hated me, and with quite a passion might I add. But, that’s just a mark of the magic this woman can work. He’s beside me right now actually; Acryn, scoffing at the way I’m portraying him. I can’t help but laugh at his complaints, if he wanted to be portrayed in this story, as the romantic hero like in every other, he should have taken the task upon himself to write this. However, I can hardly blame the story tellers for scripting him as a god-like savoir; he certainly has a heroic stature. Acryn could be seen as the stereotypical hero, tall and handsome with the text-book perfect muscularture. He’d be the perfect ideal if not for that shock of unruly crimson hair and his golden-hued eyes. Both of the latter were traits inherited from his father, who was of a tribe similar to Sayaku’s, though they still exist, albeit in dwindling numbers. I too, am just as inhuman as my Sayaku. I came from a thinning race from a well-known, ancient lineage, although if it’s all the same I’d really prefer to leave it at that.

Eventually Acryn drops the subject of his role in Sayaku’s tale (though not without a few mumbled words as to my stubbornness, he’s quite the metaphorical pot to my kettle if you must know.) And he once again leans his head against my hip, my free hand fingering a particularly lively chunk of crimson hair softly, and I know his eyes have closed as he listens dreamily to the unearthly and melodic tune radiating all around us.

She’s there: playing her harp. The small, decorative, silver instrument being one of the last items from her previous life: before the genocide. It aids in her task of subduing the re-animated beings, those who’s time on this plane has expired. Though, again, exactly how I’m not certain.

After a few moments of her thin, lithe fingers playing over the harp strings in their solo, her voice joined the song. Adding a further air of mystery and enigma to a song that brought emotions to rise inside me each and every time I heard it. I’m not exactly sure what exactly these emotions were, although I’m in no hurry to rush them into realization. I think that’s part of the magic of her song. Besides, even if I was able to understand my own reaction to the song on some remote chance, I doubt I’d be able to understand the song itself. It emanates a wisdom I cannot even begin to fathom: wisdom reflected in the woman singing the mystifying hymn.

Despite the fact that her appearance places her in the prime of life, she is so much older than I, the three of us are all under similar circumstances: aging at a rate not revealed in our external images. Acryn is likely about two hundred and fifty by now, while I am at least double that, I’ve lost exact count. Sayaku on the other hand… I have no idea. The only insight I have into her age is that she can also be considered to have none. And in that same way, by some classifications, she is not considered living. Her “life” is absent of one crucial step: Death.

I believe it is because she has no one to carry on her work of protecting the boundaries of the many planes of the world if she were to die, that death itself somehow recognized this, and will never take her life. Though I’m beating around the bush, it’s much easier for you to understand if I state simply that she is immortal.

You’ll have to forgive me for being loath to use that word to describe her, as the one time I used it to describe her I saw her blank, grey eyes darken visibly. She detests the word, although she would state that fact in a much more eloquent way. Saying in her inhumanly serene voice, that it is impossible to hate a word. However I doubt I’ll ever meet Sayaku’s level of thinking, so I suppose I have to phrase it as such.

I only have said the word to Sayaku on one account, upon which her eyes saddened as I said above. Though more than anything it was her words that lead me to never use the word in her large hearing range again.

“Chroid…”

I knew by the way she said my name, that I was not going to like the outcome of this conversation. Not that she was going to be upset with me. No, my Sayaku was above even universal emotions such as blatant anger.

“It is in any being’s nature to want what he cannot have, and I am no different.”

I wanted to tell her, at this point that she was different that the any other being, and not just different: better. But I knew that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. I think, that among other things, Sayaku just wanted to move back into the general flow of life, to be normal and mortal once again.

“Any mortal man wishes for nothing so much as immortality... for he will never posses it however he may try.”

Her she paused, and turned away from me, to stare at the full moon that was so brilliant that night, so many years ago. She then continued.

“Is it any surprise then, that my wish as an immortal is Death?”

I wished at that moment I could unspeak my words and wrap my arms around the woman who I loved so much more than I would or will ever be able to describe adequately, though I knew not only that it wouldn’t help, but that she wouldn’t allow such an action. In her mind, she didn’t deserve it… In my mind, there was nothing she didn’t deserve.

That’s why I started this quest with Sayaku, each of us searching for what we desired. Acryn longed for answers to questions he didn’t know existed before meeting my Sayaku, and I think he has found them. Me, I’m not quite sure what exactly I wanted, although I think with some certainty that I might have found it, with Sayaku’s help, in Acryn. Perhaps it was something as simple as acceptance, or maybe I’ve just developed emotional dependency after being in that a relationship for so long (despite the fact that it was more than a bit harmful). At any rate, I found what I was searching for, and although it was difficult to obtain by the standards of many, what I’m aiding Sayaku to find will be much harder. I’m searching for a way… to kill her.

Eva Slipped into her favorite pair of cargo-pants, then began to load the pockets with the spell components she would need for her trials. To the best of Eva’s knowledge today was meant to test the strength of her soul, but she had no idea what to expect beyond that. In preparation for these tests Eva had spent the last two weeks with her family and friends, strengthening her confidence and reminding herself how much they cared for her.
A small shadow flitted through the periphery of Eva’s vision as she arranged her long blonde hair into a practical combat arrangement.
“Hey Shade, can you pin this last spot, I can never get it right.”
A miniscule bat-winged humanoid dropped from his hiding place, a dejected slump in his shoulders. He responded, “Yeah sure; how do you always know when I’m here? I can never sneak up on you.”
Eva giggled, “You never watch your shadow, odd for you to not notice. Isn’t it Lampshade?”
Shade dryly responded, “I wish you wouldn’t call me that, I’m not a big fan of being named after where I was conceived. At least Shade sounds cool.” As he flew up behind Eva’s head and carefully inserted the final bobby-pin.
Eva pulled a gray hoodie over her “I ♥ flying monkeys” t-shirt. Shade took his customary spot, hiding in Eva’s hood. Together they walked through the ancient colonial home, towards the basement and Eva’s test.
Eva shouldered the massive oaken doors at the base of the stairs and into a room filled with golden light. Every adult in her family was standing in a circle around the edge of the room. Her Grandfathers kindly voice floated across the room, “Are you ready Eva?”
A small smile passed across Eva’s face as she nodded.
“Then say your farewells, for you may never return.”
Eva silently walked to each member of her family and hugged them, receiving quiet words of reassurance, love, and faith from each person. The last person she approached was her older brother, Vince.
Vince smiled arrogantly, “If you fail I’m never gonna let you live this down, I’ve seen you do harder things looking in a mirror.”
With that her grandfather pulled the curtain off of an ancient obsidian mirror frame and said, Step through and be tested.”
Eva stepped through the mirror frame, and found herself in an unearthly forest. Everything; the trees, the grass, the dirt, and even the large deer twinkled like stars.
A woman of inhuman beauty was sitting on a rock, quietly singing. The woman’s gray skin and silver hair sparkled like the stars themselves. Her dress pure black, it absorbed light as if it fed off of it. Eva walked up to the woman, “Where am I?”
The woman looked up, “How did you get here?”
Eva impetuously said, “I asked first.” Then she looked into the woman’s eyes and gasped, “I’m sorry Lady Lumina, Goddess of the Stars, I did not mean any harm.” The woman’s eyes were as full of stars as the sky during a new moon.
Eva struggled to hold the Lumina’s gaze as she replied, “It is ok child, you are young, very young. It has been ages since the mirror has sent me company. And you brought one of the little ones too. They are always so much fun.”
Shade popped out of Eva’s hood sullenly, “Apparently I can’t hide from you either.”
The goddess laughed, “Of course not, now I suppose I should give you something for visiting me.” She reached into an invisible pocket in her dress and pulled out a necklace. “This will come in handy later.”
Shade laughed sarcastically, “Oh yes, necklaces do so much.”
Luminas eyes lit up as she bitterly muttered, “they do when their magic.”
As soon as Eva put on the necklace, her and Shade disappeared. Lumina smiled as the pair disappeared.

Eva materialized into pure darkness. Within seconds Eva pulled a dove feather out of her pocket and muttered a short phrase in Latin. A gentle breeze filled the cavern, showing Eva everything the magical wind touched, including a terrifyingly massive spider and it’s webbing.
Shade grabbed onto Eva’s cloak and shouted, “Hey warn me when you’re going to do something like that, I blow away pretty easy.”
Eva whispered, “Shh, there’s a real big spider off to the left.”
Shade shuddered as he replied, “guhh, I hate spiders.”
“I’m not a big fan when they’re ten times bigger than me.”
Shade’s shudder was noticeable even through Eva’s hood. Eva froze as she sensed the giant spider begin to move towards them. Eva fumbled through her pockets for a bag of seeds. As she grabbed them she began to chant. As Eva chanted waves of depression flowed through her body, an angry wind blew towards the spider, pushing it back and away from Eva and Shade. The massive arachnid turned and shot a web towards Eva. She barely ducked the webbing, which clung to a massive stalagmite behind her. The spider began to pull itself back towards Eva.
Eva’s confidence faltered, weakening her magic. The wind died down, allowing the spider to approach faster.
Shades trembling voice shouted, “Is it gone, why is the wind dying down.”
Eva mumbled, “Because I’m not strong enough to push it away.”
A hint of true panic entered Shades voice when he said, “Of course you can, the trials are supposed to be easy. Your brother just had to live through a night in the midst of a Tornado. He told me all about it. And your three times the witch he is.”
Panic flowed through Eva, had something gone wrong with her trials, what was going on? Why in the thirteen families was she fighting giant spiders in the dark. A tornado was child’s-play for an Arithni, the wind witch clan. Her family took vacations to go flying in them frequently.
The answer struck like a bolt of lightning, she was stronger so her test had to be harder, that had to be it. And with that thought the wind revived into a gale, pushing the spider back. She dug a piece of razor-grass out of another pocket and slashed it at the spider web. Wind whipped out, slicing the webbing. Then she pulled a pitcher plant from her pocket, and began to sing an intricate song that shaped the wind into complex array, trapping the beast as it piled loose webbing, trapping the spider.
As soon as the spider was fully trapped in its webbing Eva found herself back home. She was standing in front of the mirror and her family stood around her.
Eva excitedly shouted, “I’m back, I’m done.” None of them moved, and she couldn’t hear a sound. She walked up and poked her brother. He didn’t move. She pulled a few cue-tips out of he pockets, they made excellent one time spell components for wind cleaning spells, and inserted them into his nostrils. Shade’s laugh from next to Eva’s ear startled her as it shattered the silence.
3414386 Eva turned to look at her faerie companion as she asked, “Why do you think the trials put me here?”
Shade said, “I couldn’t tell you. I just know you could have a lot of fun if this is really them. Let’s check out the rest of the house.”
Eva walked out of the oaken doors, and explored the house. Everything, down to the celebratory cake in the oven was frozen. Eva herself froze when she looked out the windows. A trio of strange dark blue skinned men were walking through the lawn carrying rocket launchers. The men were practically seething with power. The entire family was unprepared to deal with what was to come.
“We have to do…”
Eva and Shade disappeared and reappeared far away in a cave in the midst of a large desert.
“something.”
Eva immediately pulled an Ostrich feather from her hoodie pocket. She chanted a massively long spell, summoning a gust of wind so incredibly strong it lifted her off of her feet. She flew on the wind she had summoned towards where she believed her home to be as quickly as possible. When she arrived her home was nothing but rubble and ruin. The goddess’s voice wafted from the necklace, “I’m sorry child, this is what will become of your family. Be strong.”
Then Eva found herself home. Her family was waiting for her. Eva was swept into a whirling party of congratulations. That night Eva cried for the tragedy she knew was coming, but knew that to reveal prophecy was forbidden. What was she to do?

BMK wrote:Aminar, you should quote your story, it makes it easier to read.

Kara Kuro, Nice story, maybe a little more plot, but some of it is implied...or at least that the feeling I got.