FSE

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"Within the walls of Haven, there are many souls, this is the story of but one. . ."

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Chapter One: Instinct

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The evening had alas arrived, the activities of the day blurring together as with most of those whom dwell below the illuminated sky. Everyone was restless, waiting out the last remaining minutes before the signaling bell that told them they were free from the restraints of academic achievement. Most were simply standing about, forming together with their individual cliques and groups. They all found comfort in the lonesome world when they united with supposedly like minded souls, but even still, how many of them were actually truly happy inside. They all pasted smiles upon their youthful faces, gossiping and conferring amongst each other, blissfully ignorant to greater troubles that loomed within the world. That was his thoughts, a silent feline resting high atop the school's bleachers, gaze fixated upon the sprawling field of green. His gaze drifted across the serene horizon, pausing upon a large group of those whom everyone considered to be popular, mostly the members of the Fairfort Fighters, the local football team, and the cheerleaders that supported field side. He maintained his line of sight, watching one figure in particular, a muscular and handsome lion. He couldn't remember his name, and really had no desire to figure it out. Said lion was the star quarterback for the team, and he knew that he was indeed the big shot around here. He was currently in the process of wooing the cheerleaders by flexing his impressively sized arm, which had a pleasurable effect on his adoring fans, although it probably wouldn't take that much for him to impress them all things considered.

"Um. . . Chris?" came a voice from his left, shaking him from his trance, he'd almost forgot that he wasn't alone. "Anyone home?"

"Oh, sorry Ahna." he replied apologetically as he turned to face the black and white feline. She was focused intently on him, her face wearing a look of confusion, which left Chris to wonder how long she'd been sitting there. She was a bit shorter than he was, and her frame was lean, but not skinny, and covered mostly in fluffy black fur which she kept groomed neatly most of the time. Her black coat was broken in some places by brilliant white, her left ear being entirely white as well as a large spot just under her left eye. She also had white fur on her throat, leading a trail down and into her shirt and reappearing on her abdomen. Her right hand was white as well, along with her right foot and the tip of her paintbrush tail. Her hair was black just as the majority of her fur, and was worn in a wild and unkempt manner. She had always been a bit of a tomboy in Chris' eyes, not really acting all that effeminate and never really caring about beauty and the like. She was dressed in a pair of black cargo pants that fit loosely around her figure as well as a black tee that clung tightly to her ample chest and left her naval exposed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, knowing very well he was lost in his own thoughts, which was really a near everyday occurrence with him.

"It's nothing." was his reply, he was never the type to show his feelings or burden others with his troubles.

"Aw come on, cheer up kitty cat!" she spoke, dressing her face with a big, warming smile. Chris never really liked her nickname for him, but it wasn't really annoying enough to protest against.

"I'm fine, don't worry about it." he ensured her, putting on his best smile despite how obvious it was it was forced.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever kitty cat, cheetahs sure are a strange lot." she sighed, leaning back in her seat, arms folding over her chest and eyes casually sealed shut. A moment later, however, they tore open wide and fixed themselves on where it came from. A single laugh that somehow she knew was directed towards her.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SO FUNNY WHORE!" she yelled, her voice filled with rage as she jumped from her seat and began to wave her clenched fists towards the very same crowd that moments ago Chris was observing. They, too, apparently took notice and immediately shot the duo vicious looks before hastily evacuating the area. Chris' eyes locked onto those of the lion, and he felt something odd, almost violent, in them. It was as if he could see into the depths of his soul, glimpsing at what this simple teenager was or could become. "That's right, run away, NOT SO BIG NOW ARE YA! Spine less worms, make me sick. . . HARLOTS!"

"It's alright now, the bad people are gone." interrupted someone from behind the two. Chris turned around to face it's owner, a slim blackbuck dressed in a white button down shirt and some straight leg jeans. His fur was primarily a dark brown - black in color, turning to white on his chin down to his chest, abdomen and the inside of his arms and legs. He calmed the infuriated feline down slightly, she eventually returning to a seated position, but still clearly agitated. He was soon seated directly behind the two and smiling as he always was. "Sorry I'm late guys."

"I swear, give me a friggin' baseball bat and I swear I'd . . . what the hell are you lookin' at cat?" Ahna remarked noticing the confused expression the cheetah next to her wore.

"Harlots?" he replied, which in turn was followed by a moment of silence before the three of them broke out into laughter.

"Give me a break, it was all I could think off!" Ahna argued in her defense. "Anyways, still going over your uncle's shop for some pool tonight, Ian?"

"Yeah, you know it! What about you Chris?" the antelope asked, calming himself from his fit of laughter.

"I don't know. . ." was Chris' answer, he had never been the type to hang out, usually he was suckered into it by Ahna.

"Oh right, he's all depressed' and stuff." she teased, making a dramatically serious face.

"What is it this time?" spoke Ian, his dark brown eyes locking onto the cheetah's emerald green.

"He won't say, most suspicious, no?" she further teased, her eyebrow raising in an exaggerated manner, hand scratching her chin.

"Aye, most suspicious indeed." added Chris' other 'friend', mimicking the female, somehow they had the most annoying tendency to antagonize him into doing certain things, such was the case at the moment and he knew he wouldn't be allowed to just say no.

"Oh fine, whatever, but I', not doing any karaoke!" he asserted, forcing out a laugh in spite of the fact he wasn't really into being social and really didn't feel up for the aforementioned session.

Alas, the signaling ring of the final school bell, alerting all of those within the school grounds that they wer free for the weekend. Chris stood and parted ways with his small circle of associates, turning down a ride from Ian, feeling anything but free.

Even though it was still light outside, the path that lead the lone cheetah along was anything but. The overhead highways and maze of tunnels and drains stole most of the light before it could reach the cracked and worn out concrete below his feet. It would appear as though night had already set in to stay, but the mood seemed to fit his state of mind, dark and gloomy.

He mused at Ahna's words, he was indeed depressed, he had been ever since he came here, in fact, as long as he could remember back to. He was, as far as he knew it to be, the only cheetah in the entirety of the Fairfort District. A single, lengthy sigh traveled from his lungs, manifesting physically in the form of a gentle, warm mist before his lips. It was mid autumn, and if there were any trees to be found, they'd surely be coated in a grand fire of pastel oranges and red, the cold however, was a bit harsher than it usually was.

It always seemed so dead and quiet down here, partly due to the lack of light, and partly due to the lack of life. The only people down here were the marauding drug addicts, vagrants and those whom especially did not want to be noticed by others. He ignored it all though, sticking to memorized paths and little known tunnels in an effort to avoid most of the lowlifes.

He soon found himself passing through a large tunnel that was extremely familiar to him. It looked as if a two lane road had run through it in the distant past, but whatever civilization had used it had long since been forgotten by time. He eyed the large graphitized sign reading 'Welcome home, to hell!', that meant that he was there, his refuge from the world. He stood now upon a cold and ragged street, cracked and dressed in years of weathering and neglect. Grass claimed a good percentage of the street, well, weeds more accurately, all of which was accented by the bottles, cans and trash that littered the entire area. This street had no name, it was lost to all but those who lived there, most of the run down houses were either boarded up or had collapsed entirely, hosting none but rats and vermin. It was commonplace to fall asleep at night to the echo of gunfire, sirens and screams, as there was nowhere safe here, only safer.

It wasn't much of a place to call home, but it was all he had to sleep in, and it was definitely better than sleeping out in the street or under some drainage pipe. The door's lock was smashed entirely off, again, the windows couldn't even really be called that, as they were mostly plywood coverings or nonexistent entirely. The cheetah pushed open the splintered wooden door, not even flinching when a bullet pierced into the frame not even a foot from his head, and stepped into the neglected structure.

The inside wasn't better, the floors were uneven and stained with blood and grime that nobody was brave enough to attempt cleaning. Rats wandered the corners in search of food, empty alcohol bottles, syringes and trash could be found no matter where you looked, and the air was filled with the scent of sex and alcohol. Chris ascended the hazardous, ancient stairwell, stepping over a drunkard lying face down at the top of his floor, which was thankfully vacant with the exception of his room. Approaching the wooden door, marked with various obscenities and numbered '313', he withdrew his ring of keys, beginning the process of undoing all six of the locks needed to gain access to his shelter. Having completed the task, which he had down pretty instinctively by now, he kicked open the door and entered, being sure to secure each of the locks once more.

It was an entirely different domain from that which lie just beyond the door he stood with his back to. The floor's carpeting was almost devoid of stains, the furniture was salvaged from a few lawns, and wasn't in that bad of condition, and the windows weren't missing and he owned a television set, even though it was only in black and white he didn't really care, he didn't really watch it anyways.

With a sigh he tossed off his clothes and headed towards his shower. Stepping into the shower, which was just big enough for one, he reached out and took grip on the handle, slowly turning it. He braced himself as his body was beset upon by a barrage of frigid water. He had grown mostly accustomed to it at this point, but it was still hard to stay in for long periods of time. He made haste in cleaning himself, leaping out quickly as he returned the handle to it's previous position, halting the flow of liquid. Towel drying himself, he exited his bathroom and, satisfied with his current level of dryness, tossed the moistened towel into a nearby hamper before reaching for his blow drier to finish the job.

Stepping before the reflective surface of a full body mirror, he proceeded to dry and tend to his fur, making sure that every body part was devoid of water before pausing to look himself over. He was slender and around five feet, eight inches in height. His fur was the typical shade that adorned those of his species, a sandy yellow with black spots, fading to white on his chest, stomach, groin and inner legs and arms. His four and a quarter foot tail was likely colored, ending in five solid black rings. His eyes, which Ahna always said was his best feature, were like brilliant emeralds reflecting in light, his left eye however, possessing heterochromatic traits in the form of three brown spots. His fur did wonders to conceal his tight muscular structure, which, while not large, were compacted as a martial artist or Olympic swimmer might have.

His thoughts once more began to drift off, which was beginning to happen more and more in the past couple of days, and once again he found himself dwelling on one subject. He was alone, yes he had Ian and Ahna, but they were only friends, he had no family, none of his own kind, no one to truly love. His life seemed hollow, as if a great part of him were missing, lost to the chaos of the world, yet just beyond his grasp. There was a feeling within his bones, a feeling that had been looming over him since his memories could be traced back to, feeling that there was something else out there, something bigger than this life he called his own, there was something great, a place he could truly find peace. He dropped the hair drier to the ground, standing motionless before his own image, unable to move as his mind danced in a world of it's own.

He mused on his own past, his family was gone, gone to the world and leaving him to his lonesome self. He'd never met his father, whom he was told was some sort of soldier who died in battle to save his squad. He had apparently been a fine soldier, devoted to his cause and unquestioning of his orders, and that's where Chris assumed he's inherited his fighting spirit. His hand touched the thick metal collar that was fastened securely around his throat, it was his father's and given to him when he was a child by some stranger who claimed to have been a friend of his. A pair of metal rings hung from the front of it, each one adorned with a name, one reading K'virri Ihra Ezura, which was his father's name in his native tongue, and his own, Raku Nin Ezura. His mother had also given them more localized names to fit in better, she having passed away when he was but five years old. His sister, Amber, had raised him till he turned fifteen, then she left in order to make them a fortune and return someday, but that was two years ago and he had entirely forgotten until just then. It was tough growing up hungry and cold, living from house to house, anywhere one would let them stay. It always seemed that his sister had a way of convincing the owners to let them stay for a couple of nights, after she left, it was impossible to persuade one to allow him to dwell within their home for even a day. Thankfully he stumbled upon this place one night and at least it gave him a roof over his head.

So caught up in his thoughts, he nearly forgot all about his plans and hastily threw on a black hoodie and a pair of black drawstring track pants. Fully dressed, he rushed out the door, down the stairs and on his way to yet another day of pretending to be happy.

The atmosphere was bleak, a dismal feeling lingered in the cold night breeze that drifted through the lightless air. Despite his best efforts, Chris could do nothing to shake the ill presence that he felt. Absent were the sounds that had become commonplace, replaced with a silence more deafening than any amount of turmoil could create. The only noises to be heard were the malicious echoes of the wind stirring amongst the wreckage and dead leaves. He almost jumped when came a feint noise resonating from the darkness, causing him to turn and face the direction of it's origin. Focusing intently, attempting to pierce the shadows ahead, he listened for anything else, eyes vainly trying to capture movement. Then it came again, almost like an argument, and his ears locked onto it, finding that it was originating from a cold and seemingly desolate concrete tunnel.

Drawing closer, he peered inside, hearing unmistakable yet incoherent arguments from what he guessed to be a male and female. Swallowing hard, and against his better judgment, he climbed into the three feet in diameter tunnel, surrounded by complete darkness, and drew closer with the intent on determining it's source. A part of him was yelling for him to turn around and leave, but curiosity told him to continue onwards. It was almost as if an unseen force was sucking him into the oblivion, as no one in their right mind would traverse such a dark and small place without light or knowledge of what awaited them on the other side, yet here he was.

He couldn't tell how long he's been traveling and his back and legs were beginning to cramp due to his bent over position, however, the voices were growing louder so he knew he was indeed on the right path. He alas reached the exit, and cautiously stepped out to the concrete ground below. Straining his eyes, he took note to the many abandoned cars that dotted the apparently indoors structure, which by now he assumed to be some sort of parking building.

By the wall opposite of him, he spotted the owners of the vocalized argument, three of them to be exact, and he moved close to the ground as he sprinted silently nearer, stationing himself behind a large stone column. They were just beyond it, merely twenty feet away, and from the words he could make out, they had the drive to rape and possibly kill the female. That caused a bomb to go off within him, above all things, he could not stand it when innocents suffered without cause. His fists drew into clenched weapons, his eyes opening with a vigor he'd not known himself to possess, and he prepared himself for what he was about to do.

He didn't form a plan, no strategic elements other than hopefully surprise, and he knew he was outnumbered, but that did nothing to hesitate his movements. He spun around, staying down close to the floor as if he were a hunter stalking his prey, and in a second he was upon them. The figure was caught off guard entirely, and despite it's towering size, fell to the ground. Before he had time to react, Chris charged towards the second figure, he had little time to prepare himself as he released his captive in time to throw a misguided haymaker in the direction of the charging cheetah. Chris ducked under it, landing his shoulder into the figure's stomach before immediately leaping back a couple of feet, his right foot leaving the ground and landing in the face of the prone thug, dropping him back to the ground if only momentarily.

Behind the cheetah, a massive shape returned to it's feet. He spun around and faced his opponent, a muscular lion standing a good foot and a half over the smaller feline. Chris recognized him, even in the darkness, he wore an orange sports jacket adorned with the insignia belonging to none other than the Fairfort Fighters. It was evident that he was extremely pissed off, but that was one of the edges that Chris had on his side, he always managed to keep a cool head, even now.

"Fuckin' bastard, your dead now." he grunted out, spitting on the ground before he charged forward, fist clenched and intent on giving the cheetah the beating of his life. Chris leaned left, narrowly avoiding collision, dodging was difficult in this level of darkness, but he couldn't lose his resolve or he may not live beyond the moment. He thanked the heavens that he worked out daily and maintained his agility or he would probably get destroyed by a single hit, but so long as he could keep just beyond his attacker's range, he would be fine.

As it would seem, he was lucky today, his adversary shot forward with a left hook, but was too focused on his target and not on his own movements as his foot caught on a large crack in the ground and sent him face first to the earth. Chris wasted no time to exploit his foe's folly and his foot rapidly met with his face as he fell. That managed to do some damage, but he knew it wouldn't finish the job.

"RUN!" he yelled to the female, turning to face her. He stopped, taken back by what he saw. She was something he'd never seen before. She looked like a feline of some sort, yet with the exception of her ears and tail, was entirely devoid of fur. Her eyes were large gems of red, visible even despite the crushing dark that engulfed everything. Chris was speechless for several seconds, eventually forcing himself to snap back into reality. "GO ON, RUN!" he reinforced, turning his attention back towards the rising image of the smaller of the two figures. He could tell that she was apprehensive about leaving him alone, but he didn't care about himself, he never did. "Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." he assured, and noticed out of the corner of his eye, her petite form nod and speed off into the shadows. Releasing a heavy sigh of relief, he returned to the task at hand.

"Little bastard cat, I'll gut ya for that!" he barked. Chris could now better make him out as well. He was a German Shepherd, dressed like his leonine companion, although shorter and not as muscled. He withdrew a small switchblade from his jacket, flicking it open and pointing it towards his opponent, but Chris just remained still, eyeing his target, awaiting opportunity.

The dog's charge was careless and easily avoidable, the slender feline leapt towards him, dropping down to the ground to lock his feet around the dog's ankles, sending him to kiss the pavement. Chris readied himself as he rose again, charging exactly as he did the first time, and Chris dropping him the exactly way he did the first time as well. It was evident that he was letting his anger control him, and that was a good thing for Chris, it meant he was acting too carelessly, too foolishly. After the third repeat, it was obvious that the Shepherd was lacking intellectually, and Chris had to end it, as he noticed the lion was up on one knee. He charged again, this time however, Chris grasped his wrist, sending his foot into his opponent's stomach. He followed it up by falling backwards into a roll and flipping the dog over him and onto the ground, this time hopefully for a while.

Now the lion was ready for another round, he too wearing a visage of frustration and anger, which was controlling his actions. As he charged, Chris shifted his body, taking hold of his left arm and forcing him forward into a column, deciding the best strategy would be to use his weight against him. The lion stumbled up, spinning around and charging like a train towards the cat, but once more he managed to barely avoid it. His foot struck hard and fast into the back of the lion's knee, causing him to fall prone onto his other. Chris wasted no time in rapidly colliding with an overhead hammer strike and then sending his knee to meet with the lion's face.

Chris took the time to stretch his limbs as the canine regained his fighting stance, knife still in hand, and mind even more clouded by his fury. Chris prepared yet again, hoping that his fatigue and luck wouldn't run out on him. He waited, but nothing came, no movement on behalf of the dog. Then he noticed why, a big grin forming on the Shepherd's maw, exposing his sharp teeth to the cat. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, it came from where he's just downed a large feline. He knew he was in a tight spot, surrounded on each side, but he refused to give up, he refused to be defeated by some low life thugs.

The dog began to laugh in a low, sickening tone and Chris knew why, they thought they were going to win now, but not as long as there was breath in his small form would he allow himself to be beaten. His eyes darted from one shape to the other, from the form of the cocky canine, to that of a crouched down feline, ready to pounce the prey they'd pinned between. A prayer silently left his lips, asking his father for protection, finding somehow that it provided some level of relief.

It happened, in unison they charged the small cat, from left and right, and Chris was finding himself capable of dodging their attempts at landing a blow on him, at least for now. He could feel it, the burning in his lungs, the stress on his limbs, the fog in his mind, he was losing his strength, his will to go on. This was reinforced when he felt a sharp pain bite into his left arm, followed by the slow trickle of warm blood down towards his elbow. He kept up though, somehow, and continued his defense, dodging and deflecting strike upon strike as the threesome danced through the shadows for only God knows how long. Alas, luck and agility failed him as a powerful blow came from behind, landing on his back and immediately followed up by a strong push strike which sent him speeding forcefully into a wall.

Chris gasped as he felt the wind leave his lungs, his back was burning with pain, but he managed to force it down and reflexively jump to the right, a fist powerfully striking the wall where his head just left.

"FUCK!" screamed the lion, gripping his fist in anguish as he stumbled backwards. Chris didn't hear anything though, his entire being, both physically and emotionally, directed towards staying alive.

He took the opening that was presented by the lion, racing forward with great speed to leap knee first into the lion's chest, knocking him backwards and temporarily to the ground again. He had no time to celebrate however, as he caught sight of a charging canine from the rear. His body reacted in an instant, managing to mostly avoid the blade, but not entirely as a small wound graced along his left arm. The dog struck again, this time missing entirely, which allowed the small cheetah to plant a perfectly aimed roundhouse on the side of his head. He jumped back, but collided with something, and it quickly dawned on him what that something was. He couldn't react fast enough, a muscular arm ensnaring around his chest, drawing him into an unbreakable embrace.

"Gotcha now you son of a bitch!" roared the lion, spitting a glob of blood onto the ground as he waited for his friend to stumble to his feet.

"He he. . . f-finally, bastard cat!" barked the Shepherd, limping closer to the cat, retrieving his knife from the ground.

"I have to admit though, you are certainly fast." remarked the cat, laughing at the turn of luck in their favor. "You're almost worthy of being a real big cat, kitty. Unfortunately, you're done for. You see, you made me bleed, and I'm not particularly pleased about it. While I am quite forgiving of others, my friend here is not. Now he gets to make you bleed."

The dog approached, blade first, a cruel grin worn proudly upon his face. Chris didn't shut his eyes, nor did he make any attempt to plea for his life, if he were destined to die here, than he'd do so with honor and pride.

"Beg, bitch, I want to hear you scream!" ordered the dog, blade touching against his captive's chest. Chris refused to allow them to win, even if they killed him, he would never let them get the satisfaction of hearing him beg, instead, he locked his eyes onto the his attacker's, patiently awaiting his end.

"I said beg!" he barked again, adding a sharp fist to the gut with his words. Chris just blocked out the pain, forcing it down into the depths of his being, refusing still to give in to them. This repeated, each strike becoming less and less painful, his body losing it's feeling altogether, his vision beginning to cloud.

"Just fucking kill the little bitch!" ordered the lion, tightening his grip on the cat, which caused him to suddenly kick back into reality. He watched as the German Shepherd cut open the front of his shirt, exposing his slender torso to the cold air, which might have been of concern if not for his current situation.

"Ready to die now?" asked the canine, obviously taking great joy in the barbaric act. Chris knew it, he was finished now, he had no way out of this, no escape. It was really quite amusing to him, all his life thinking he was meant for greater things, only to be killed in some forgotten wasteland by a couple of loser thugs.

He closed his eyes, waiting to see the bright light as life left him to the hands of death. In the blackness of his mind, he pictured her, a black and white feline smiling gleefully from across the nothingness. She was all he could picture, all he had in his mind. What would become of the world in his absence, what would happen to those he cared about? No, he couldn't die here, he refused to. He began to laugh, his mind finally reawakening from his stupor, clicking back into reality.

"What the fuck is so funny?" asked the dog, confused and taken back by the actions of one in such a hopeless predicament.

"So blind, your ignorance, unable to see that death lies before such hollow eyes." Chris spoke, opening his eyes and fixating them to pierce into those of the canine. He looked shocked, unsure of what to do from there, eyes darting from Chris's to those of the lion. Chris felt as if he were not himself anymore, unable to think with a decent mind, as if some dormant part of him were suddenly awakening, and he found it too be a terrifying feeling.

"FUCK YOU!" screamed the canine in a rabid frenzy, his knife penetrating through the cold air towards the heart of a captive cheetah, whom reacted beyond the realm of thoughts, there was something else driving him. In a fraction of a second it happened, yet it seemed to move in slow motion to Chris, as he sunk his fangs deep into the flesh of the leonine arm that bound him. This caused the lion to gasp and release his grip just enough for the cheetah to gain the required momentum to shift his weight.

He managed to avoid death, but not the blade as it sunk to the hilt into his right shoulder. If not for his adrenaline and drive, he'd have probably passed out by now from the sheer weight of pain he had coursing through his aching limbs. He brought up his hand to grip around the wrist holding onto the blade wedged deep into his shoulder, and with all his strength, squeezed down and twisted, forcing a yelp from the dog as he let go of the knife.

Chris rolled out from between the duo, instantly spinning around to deliver a powerful kick to the face of the lion, followed by another to his side and finished up with a fist into the side of his face. Chris stared at the form of the lion, somehow unsatisfied with that, and proceeded to hammer away at the unconscious lion's face.

The dog sat there, unable to move as he watched the cheetah straddled upon the chest of his friend, his eyes unyielding from the lion's, his face filled with a killer instinct he'd never seen before. The brutality of his actions left the canine petrified, each strike leaving an imprint in the back of his mind. Chris stood slowly, alas satisfied with the blood covered beast that lie unmoving on the concrete, his body swaying in part due to lack of strength and in part due to his loss of control. His eyes moved towards the shape of the other, he couldn't even make out who or what it was, only that he wanted it to be destroyed. The canine watched the small cat rise to it's feet, a darkness blacker that the air around them emanating from his slender frame.

"S-sorry. . . please!" wined the dog, trembling before from the sinister image laid before him. The cheetah laughed a wicked laugh, bringing a hand up to his face. His tongue extended, tasting the salty crimson covering his claws, lost in his madness.

"Drown with me. . ." he replied, turning to face the dog, whom was backing away slowly. Fear entirely overtaking him as he turned tail, vanishing into the shadows. "Drown with me. . ." echoed Chris' voice as he continued to lick the blood from his hands.

Suddenly everything went dark, all traces of what little light there was vanishing into the endless nothingness as he was overtaken with exhaustion. In the dark place he was, he could hear a voice, faintly in the distance, yet seemingly inside his head. It was a cold voice, devoid of caring and emotion, cruel and sharp. It repeated itself, directed to him as well as to every living thing that graced the earth.

"Drown with me. . ."

(Decided to rewrite the series, fixing problems and doing it the way I had originally planned it to be. Hopefully it's for the better, which I think it is. Feedback welcome, much love!)