“Derek!”

     The young teenager raises his head as the name was called. The pale yellow grains of wheat brush against his legs, the brown fabric keeping his flesh from being touched by the grains. The wind blew his light brown hair, making barely a ripple, too short to cover his face or those emerald green eyes of his.

      In the horizon, a mixture of colors emerges, as the sun kisses the land. Yet more noticeable was a figure shown with the wind blowing her long dark brown hair. Her blue sewn dress with the white apron flapped wildly as she made her way over the golden land, heading for the young man.

         “Hi Mom, is it already time for supper?” Derek, the teenage boy asks. The lady gave a small smile, “Not yet, your father needs your help at the barn. It would seem Old Maybell escaped again.” Derek gave a stretch, loosing his muscles as he placed the old, rusted hoe down onto the ground. “All right. I’ll go get Mr. Haves!” Derek said, getting ready to rush to their neighbor, who would assuredly help.

            Derek`s legs are strong from days of labor, which makes him quick to run onwards to the right side of their field.  He heard his mother’s “Be Safe!” as she always called out whenever he had to run. She was a cautious woman, with the healthy worry for her family most  mothers had.

            It was not a hot nor cold day, other than the wind, so he ran with his usual speed, breeze at his back. He was not as fast as a rabbit may be, nor a deer, but he was fast enough to reach the old village house in good timing. The gray stone walls standing strong as it held up the olden frames of the weather beaten wooden house. Some spare plywood patched up to cover the holes that had come over the long time in the houses standing. The stones were still reddened after the incident with that bull. (Derek shuddered lightly at the memory of that hazy summer afternoon.) Smoke comes from the stone chimney, the gray clouds filling the sky above. The one lone window glows with candlelight, it and the smoke a sure sign the owner was home. Derek`s pace slowed as he reached the dirt path that led up the house, and he let out a puff of breath at the slight exertion. 

            His pants were not the only sounds; the clucks of the chickens, the bas of the fluffy-as-clouds sheep, the moos of the old cows, the barks of the dogs. The animal cries and the swishes of tails and paws and hooves filled the air, which other than that would`ve been still. Derek’s time-worn leather boots fell upon the soft turned up dirt as he continued his way down the path. The sun was starting to fall below the line of the land now, up in the sky stars glow into sight as well as the two intertwined moons.

            Derek arrived at the oak door, no knocker adorns the plain wood, so Derek raises his hand into a fist. He knocks three times on the door, a repetitive pattern, “Mr. Haves! It’s me Derek, Old Maybell got out again!”

            There was no verbal response from the house, but Derek could hear a chair being moved across the wooden floor. The scraping sound soon came to a stop and Derek could hear faint footsteps. Minutes passed by as the sun now completely vanished, its path to the land quick, leaving only the light of the window and barns to illuminate the outside for Derek.

            “Mr. Haves?” Derek called out again, worry laced in his voice. He brought his fisted hand against the door and knocked once more. “Mr. Haves, are you all right?”

            Again, no response. This time not even a single sound could be heard. Derek moved his fist from the top of the door, and went lower reaching for the doorknob. His hand gripped onto the cold metal, and he warred briefly with himself. It would be rude to barge in, but something could be wrong. Mr. Haves wasn`t getting any younger, and age took its toll. His worry won over, and as luck (Or something else...?) may have it the door was not locked.

            “Sorry for barging in!” Derek called out apologetically as he swung the door open, the light from the house flowing through the doorway and onto the now dark landscape. “Mr. Haves?” Derek called out again, entering the house warily. His green eyes flitted around the scene, looking for any sign of life. Looking to the right side of the main room he`d stepped into, the table with two chairs stood. Nothing was on the table, no food. The two chairs were nice and neat, (just as Mr. Haves liked everything in his house), both under the table. Was the scraping he heard someone pushing them in? 

            The crackling of the fire was the only sound he could hear in this small home, save the outside noise. Looking to the left, where the fireplace stood tall and proud next to the dish holding cupboards. Not a single mess was seen, (Again typical Mr. Haves) none of the spotless dishes were out of place. Derek walked over to the small stone encrusted kitchen, his hand held onto the old wooden rail, where the stair case stood. He brought his legs up each creaking old wooden plank, eyes still scanning for his neighbor. His head carefully poked up into the loft, the faint glow of the now risen moons seeping through the holes of the roof, giving Derek a chance to see the room

            The old cotton stuffed mattress with its two raggedy blankets were the only things in the room, just enough for Mr. Haves to make do with. Derek’s worry soon turned to that of fear as he studied the room, panic building into a harsh lump in his throat. There was no one home.

           So who was here before...?

            Derek froze, ears craning at the sound that had leaked up from the main room. Someone was here....but there were no areas to hide, and the only way to leave was through the front door. Where he had been moments before. Safe, moments before. He waited for a moment, before making up his mind. There was no way he could climb down from the roof without being heard, the stone still held water from the previous nights rain. His best option was to creep down the stairs in search of this intruder, and make a run for it when they turned the other way.

            He began to feel silly at his sudden fearfulness, he was likely overreacting. The young male walked towards the door, shaking his head at his crazy thoughts. It was most likely Mr. Haves was tending to the animals, and the sound had slipped through the open door or the gaps in the roof. As he made his way to the door, the corner of his eye caught sight of something that hadn`t previously been on the table.  Derek turned his head towards the dining room table, curiousty pricking him, to see some sort of paper. 

         I know that wasn`t there when I checked earlier.....right?

            Walking towards the table, panic rose again, and his hand went to reach for the parchment. Grabbing it, he peered around the room again, trying to detect signs of a trap. Nothing. His eyes trailed down the paper to see an odd sort of symbol.....A triangle with three arrows inwards? Each arrow came from each corner and all pointed towards the center, where a circle holding a X inside its belly rested. It was not the shape that caused the young man to drop the parchment, however.

            It was the metallic smell of blood, and the fresh red crimson that flowed down the shape. He stumbled back, sickened. The only time he`d smelled blood that strongly was the day of the bull. Fear seized him in its ice cold claws again, shaking his heart up and down in his tight ribcage.

            The shape, villainously enough, was written in blood.

        Derek grabbed ahold of the parchment, his fingers gripping tightly enough that it nearly tore. He turned his head towards the doorway, tension spiking through him. The old wooden door was still open, but he saw no foriegn movement there. He made his way over to the door, steps still shaken and unsteady.  Derek took a deep breath, to calm the captious negativity rising up within him. He closed his eyes, trying to let it flow out of him, focus on the good. That's what his mother always said. The good. Focus on the good. This didn`t mean Mr. Haves was dead- he could just be out and someone...or something broke in?

            His eyes shot open when he heard it. The gravely voice speaking. Derek felt breath catch sharply in his throat. His hands started to shake again, as fear broke down his fragile positivity. The feeling of a different, unrecognizable presence surrounded him. His mind went blank, oddly blank. All his thoughts of panic were faint, like background static. He wanted to run, but he could not seem to move his legs. The only thing he could do was frantically searching with his eyes, trying to find the culprit. The voice was there, he could not hear the words, and even if he could they were not a language he knew.

            The feeling of the presence only grew stronger, the torches flickered, violently close to snuffing out. Derek’s head was moving, looking back toward the door, and his eyes widened. Slowly, his legs became his again, and he stuttered back a pace, teetering for balance.  A shaky breath slipped between his lips, an exhalation of pure fear. There were two blood red eyes staring at him. No pupils, just red, red like that shape drawn out of.....no, he couldn`t think of that. They were staring right at him, almost looking deep into his soul. They didn`t move, didn`t even blink, just glaring at him in that eerie manner. Derek could feel that it was enjoying this moment. It was smiling, smiling in such a sick sinister way, but with its eyes-

            “Derek?!”

            The eyes were gone. Just as soon as they had arrived- gone. Derek’s fear vanished in time with them, and his shoulders fell back to relaxed position. He gasped for breath, his hand moving to his chest, and the paper slipped from his loose grasp. His legs gave out under him in one fluid moment and he crashed down onto his knees. Derek didn’t even know that he had stopped breathing.

            He did not hear the voices, rather he only heard the blood pounding mercilessly in his head. Did not feel the hands grabbing onto him........ Nor could he make out his father’s face as he was talking to Derek. He did not feel the warm red ichor, that flowed down his cheeks. All he felt was fear, relief, and the fog of whatever had just happened. His mind drifted to a safe place, warm and dark, as his body went limp. The young teenage boy fell unconscious.

~*~*~*~*~

         A kingdom, ruined beyond repair.

         A castle that was once tall and proud, glaring over the tree line in its glory days was no more than a hodgepodge of crumbling bricks, roof given out to time. Houses once happy no longer stood, and it seemed all that still stood upright and tall were the trees. Yet, oddly enough, statues that littered the ground, all intact. Not a scratch to be seen on any of them, all oddly the same as when they were new.

            There were no sounds of life, not even the wind that once swept up in great gusts could be heard. A faint melody was all that could be heard, aside from one other sound. Footfalls that fell upon the ground as a man walked.

            “It seems your all still here.” Akari said, stopping at a statue. A statue depicting a female, whose hand was outstretched, reaching for something kept painfully just out of reach.

            “How long has it been? 302 years?” Akari asked the statue, gaining no response. Akari placed his hand on the stone-cold cheek of the statue. “Quite interesting, I was never expecting Daniel to have Stella’s Orb.” He hummed.

            His finger trailed down the sculpture before he retracted his hand. “This time, will be different. Much different.” Akari gave his closed eye smile as he continued this conversation.

            A sigh escaped from him, and he turned his crimson red eyes away from the statue, and onto the landscape surrounding him. “All this destruction, because of your selfishness. A vile, dreadful queen you are my dear.”  

            Akari clasped his hands behind his back as he gave another hum, “Your homes, gone. Your castle, gone. Families, gone. Your own family, gone. I can imagine the sorrow, the rage, you have held.” His eyes glanced back at the statue; a sick smile spread on his face. “Yet, you still haven’t learned your lesson, have you?” His raised his hand, cupping the statue’s chin.

            Akari stood still looking at the statue, not saying anything. All silent for that moment as he stood there, like his presence demanded nature to hush. “Trapped, unable to speak, nor move. The hell I experienced for 300 years. “ Akari hissed out, the rare moments he felt rage, or let it show. But here, no full human could see him. His eyes narrowed as his grip tightened almost painfully on the stone.

            “I couldn’t even be in a dark place, not a single shadow was seen while I was there. Nothing but light. Light for 300 years, and I can assure you, the time felt like more than that.”

            “Lord Akari.”

            Akari did not glance back at the voice that said his name. “What is it, Kyla. Can`t you see I`m busy?”

            Akari’s rage was suddenly hidden as he pulled away from the statue, his eyes skittering over his shoulder at the female behind him. The black haired girl, kneeled down on knee, placing her hand over her armored chest. Her eyes closed, as her head was bowed down. “I apologize for interrupting my lord, but we have carried your orders as you had requested.”

            “The results?”

            “I am pleased to report we have succeeded: the Helrosa kingdom is now in your control. Their soldiers did not last for a day.” She replied. Akari gave a laugh, “Of course they wouldn’t. I have one of their most loyal knights after all.” Akari said, “Now then I believe its time for me to go sit on my new throne?” he said with a smile, constructed of false warmth.

            Kyla`s head had raised slightly as she spoke, and she lowered it once more, “Yes my lord.” She said.

            Akari turned his gaze back on the statue, listening to the foot falls of the knight, waiting until he could no longer hear the sound. “Two years, after two years my goal will be achieved, and this time I won’t be stopped. See you soon, Onyx.”

           And there was that closed eye smile, as he turned his back on the statue. His cloak now flapping as a wind blew, nature returning suddenly to this place. A sickening melody playing to the air as he hummed that dreadful tune, and the soft taps of his footfall as he walked away.