Chapter one

Rubert stood, gazing at the darkness within the room, his back aching with each breathe he took. His eyes began to dilate to the room’s blackness. The sack on his back trembled lightly with each step he took inside, closing the heavy, wooden door behind, the light crawled under the crack between the door and floor and bent upward fading as it clashed with dusty particles.

Rubert gently lofted the sack over his head in a great arc and let it slowly come to a stop in front of him. He took a deep breathe, held it in and slowly released it, his back unclenching and throbbing with soreness. The sack hit the wooden floor with a soft pat as Rubert stroked the leather cord binding it shut with his calloused hands, untying it. With the knot undone he then released the sack to crease and cascade downward.

The sack crumpled and revealed a blindfolded, gagged, and bound (by the ankles and wrists) girl. She had her head bent resting on her knees shaking, her black hair rippled down and swayed with the smallest movement. Her hands were cupped together in the space under her thighs. Her body felt the sack drop against her clothes.

Rubert knelt down beside the girl, looking intently at her hair as though longing to stroke it, and slipped two fingers inside his left boot and pulled out a knife. With the other hand he delicately placed a soothing finger on her right cheek and caught a tear rolling down her face. She recoiled at his touch and withdrew further into her knees. Seeing this Rubert inserted the blade between the blindfold and temple and seared the cloth apart. He watched the girl shake her head and let the blindfold drop.

Slowly she raised her had and stared, her eyes were red, puffy and rimmed with tears though she no longer was crying, straight at him.

“Wh…why?” she asked timidly, her voice quaking with uncertainty. The redness in her eyes was fading once more to reveal her light hazel colored, sparkling eyes.

Rubert, putting back the knife, gazed at her, her ruffled hair dangling down her face and looked away, blushing. His answer was sharp and quick.

“It was the Black Scripture,” said Rubert without returning his gaze to the girl. His chest was pumping with irregular breathing. He didn’t notice his hands, pale and dripping sweat, nervously entangling with the other. “I…I stole it,” he finally murmured.

The girl shook her head disbelieving every word he said. Her eyes were swelling again. Behind the door came soft scuffling and a cry both Rubert and the girl missed. The girl, stopping her head shaking, calmly spoke.

“And that made it okay to kill my parents?”

Rubert flinched, as though hit with a fatal blow, and stared at the ground, straining his eyes to do so.

“N...nn...noo,” he said curling both hands into fists. “Ha...Hazel, I’m sorry. Truly I am.”

Hazel blankly stared at him. The fire inside her chest emotionally scorched her heart, sending sensations down the curve of her back. She didn’t care that her body, already wracked with grief, gave up on living, suicide would be best; after all everything died. Would it truly make a difference if she died now rather than later? And she had already decided on her suicide.

It was then that Hazel saw it; water swelling, building up in the eye, and watched as drop after drop slowly fell unwanted on the floor. She saw how Rubert’s body rocked back and forth, without effort to conceal it, like some small child does after a punishment. Hazel, ignoring the bonds on her wrists, wrapped her arms around Rubert and pulled him into an awkward but, somehow, comforting hug.

“Hazel, I’m scared,” said Rubert, his voice was shaking and slightly muffled as he talked into her clothing. “I feel my body changing, becoming stronger as though filled with an undeniable lust for anger.”

Hazel heard every word, even though she had to still her breathing to do so. She continued to, delicately, stroke Rubert’s head, her hands shifted out the tangles and patchy areas. “What do you mean?” she asked already dreading the answer. “Surely not?”

Rubert stifled a sob. “After I stole the Black Scripture—and killing your parents—I opened it and began learning the forbidden arts. Now I know why they are forbidden,” said Rubert as he pulled away and began to claw at his eyes with his hands. “The first art, Terria Clow, was so horrid and…beautiful.”

“How?” Hazel interrupted. She instinctively began to slither away—she would rather consider runner, but, with her bonds on, couldn’t—and got a considerable distance away. “No don’t tell me! I don’t want to hear!”

“Why not? I stole it for you,” said Rubert. His voice suddenly not his own; it rapidly grew cold and absolutely sure of everything it said: the alluring voice of death. Rubert stood quickly bringing out the knife and brought it near his face.

Light, reflecting off the blade, gleamed across his face. His eyes were bloodshot, narrow and distant, each pulsing with a murderous intent. His nose was small and slightly bent nursing a broken bone. His mouth was curved upward in a happy, twisted smile. The front of long, sharpened objects protruded out of the mouth, yellowish in color and rotting to the gums. His skin was pale, paler than the feeble light that the two moons fought over.

Hazel shrieked silently and shuffled backwards. She plunged deeper into the darkness feeling her way along the wooden planked floor. Ahead she could hear heavy, steel-toed boots keeping even pace with her and she also heard a low, cackling laugh advancing at the same speed. Suddenly hazel collided her back with a dampened stone wall and immediately curled into a tight ball with her eyes alert and watching the silhouette watching her back.