mmk ima post by chapters, im prolly losing words as i write this, but who cares? >3<"
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1. Being


The Descent of sanity begins when one loses something precious. The fear of never receiving contact with it ever again, becomes the only thing on the mind. In the town of T——, there is much misery in a home that beholds the exact feelings of a human in pain and loneliness. One cannot exempt the feeling, for it holds the grip of a mother saving her child from a precipice.
A young at heart, not much older than ten years, having this feeling that should only be expressed by elders as they watch their life disappear, is a shame to the family of cause. Yet it is so possible for a family to lose their member to a cloak of depression when their love seems to fade from the life within. Fearful, poignant, narrowed eyes, alone. This is the feeling one receives when they begin the Descent, and so it starts. The story, dear reader, is what one will find during the Descent of sanity and hope, feel the anxiety, the pressure, as you read these simple words that mean too much for the mind to comprehend.
This young child, sitting on her bed, hair dark and long, folded over her dimpled, pale face, beheld the emotions of the heart as a lion hunting its prey. In her long, lithe fingers held the book of a fourth grader, pages kept in tact and clean, no folds or creases dare sprung upon the novel for fear of its reader. She devoured the words in her mind, eyes widened in pleasure as she studied the book. Her pink lips mouthed the words silently, the heat of her sweaty palms bringing the pages to rise and stick.
The room was a shade of insipid gray, one wall painted a mournful morning’s aqua blue sky. Only one large window lay planted in the middle of the room, where one would walk in and immediately see; this window was always closed. Upon the floors were two colorful rugs. A bright pink rug, set against the blue wall, and a bright green rug settled by the bed, or rather destined to warm toes in the morning of a cold winter. Flung about the floor were papers and wrappers, a rabbit printed, brown backpack half on the rug. A shoebox, empty to collect dust, a pair of shoes shoved under a stool for the effects of a stubborn child. There was a trashcan, filled with food wrappers as well, and a pair of roller-skates, laces untied, a charm bracelet still in the box of which the child’s grandmother gave to her, a simple set cell phone, and a notebook, all were on the ground.
A tall, heavy set, maple wooden door led to a closet filled with clothes thrown about in an array of disorganization. Beside this hideously arranged closet, was a maple nightstand, this too was shrouded in clothes; a digital alarm clock, covered over with a black clothe to prevent its rays of light to burst forth at night. Along the edge of this nightstand, was yet again, another maple furniture, it was a tall cabinet. The cabinet was covered with a frosty, clouded glass, which a person could only see through if pressed against it; two bottom drawers heavy with items of sorts. Simple sticky pads were taped onto the glass; a picture of two poorly drawn children standing next to each other was also taped on the glass, but from the inside of the door. The cabinet’s silver knobs were bound straight and closed shut, with a colorful piece of yarn, with which was strewn through a scrap of paper with the word ‘DREAM’ printed on it, and ‘BIG’ scratched in pen beneath it.
In one corner of the dwelling area was a narrow, white desk, shoved into the crevice of the walls. On the desk was piled multiple papers, clotted with gray drawings and writings. A warm computer, still in use, opened to a tab on the Internet. On the tab was a dark page, it was too dark to be read even by the author, but it was there, and running. A tablet attached to a wire on the computer, a freed, wireless mouse, an orange bag of chips, a pair of black wool gloves, a blue mechanical pencil, batteries, and a piece of paper with scribbles upon its front and back, these also were on the desk. Now, opposing the small desk was a bed too large for a child, one fit for a queen, layered with one lonesome, pink, flower-patterned sheet. Stuffed animals jammed into the gap between the wall and the bed, forming an alliance of protection while the child would sleep.
There were three bulletin boards upon the walls. One on the left wall of the window, and two above the bed on the right wall of the window, on the left was posted a calendar that marked the month of October, and a dark pink rabbit hat pinned and secured. The two on the right were parallel, but not put on the same invisible shelf. The one closer to the window had two pictures on it. A girl with black hair, and a boy with black hair, between them were written something in Japanese. The second picture was of a girl smiling, it was done in pencil, and this too had the similar symbols in Japanese. If one would see them, they would assume it was something of interest, or a name perhaps.
All and all, a person could walk into the room and say, ‘ This is the room of a spoiled, rich child, whose family would die without her.’ But the emotionless face of the child would show much less of what a person would indeed expect. It was a large room, spacious, but unkempt.
Now oh precious reader, do you see this girl? This child of which belies the glee of her room, her heart black and hardened.
But suddenly, her tiny face is pulled up. So swift a movement, almost like an apparition. Her small eyes, black with a hopeless despair, her hair combed straight to perfection against her little round head. She wore a white-gray shirt; her shoulders slumped giving her the appearance of a fuller child, though she hungered every day and only received the words of the book she held. Her black shorts were too short, swallowed up by the baggy shirt. Unless one could possibly appear to her and make her laugh, there was no sign of intrepidness or effort. She looks up, as if she sees you. Reader, it is as if she is the book, the writing, the words you see here, and she is looking at you, with great eyes of no emotion. You must flee, there is no hope here, and you will only get sucked into the pool of anguish that has already consumed the child.
The child! She stands; the book has fallen to her feet, and is walking towards you; pull away, reader. Thus the insanity begins, with her crooked smile, her hands extended pulling you towards her. You must enjoy this story with effort, for the grin she holds is that of an all-knowing observer. I feel compelled to mislead you, but how could I, seeing her miserable, pale arms wrap around you; the cold pressure of her fingers pressed into you skin, dying for me to help her; it is impossible. Dear reader, look away, as I lead you on, be aware of your surroundings, for there is such a thing as the Descent of sanity and hope, and the first sign is————————

How far are you in this, Kao?

ohohohohohoahhahhahaha xDDD totally forgot to upload some more chapters, kk, im 31,822 words @_@ i...cant...do...it!!! RAWR!!!

2. The Lie.


Twigs underfoot, cracking. The undergrowth is marshy, filled with the dead leaves of autumn, yet the trees still remain full of green leaves. Mold spreads rapidly upon the floor, moss climbing with effort onto the smooth, slick, gray bark of the tall, skinny trees. The air is still here. A heavyset fog layered over the forest of Illusions. One could certainly understand why it was called so. There was a figure in the distance, a rather small frame, it appeared as if it were looking straight.
Resting on this ground, converse and knee socks, a girl of fifteen years began her journey to find hope. She stands restless in the forest, having stopped on the side of the road and crossed the rusted, red barbed wire, her heart pounded as she spotted the form of a human in the distant trees. This girl is near the end of her journey. Running away from home, helpless, in pain, alone, tears streaked her placid face causing her long, dark brown hair to affix to her face. There is no reason why she had stopped here, but the idea of killing herself in the infamous and mysterious woods seemed enjoyable, where no one would find her body, maybe devoured by a creature of the night.
No friends to comfort her, no parents to encourage her. Constantly standing with her fingers to her head, silently telling herself ‘not today’. But now, she stands with fingers twisted in anguish and hate, her large eyes round with the deceit of a cat. She stares at the shape with the contempt of a homeless man who stumbles upon bread on the street. Pointing a finger in the air and mouthing words too shallow to be heard. Suddenly, she waves her arms, calling into the forest to the child in front of her. Screaming. “ I need your help, it is me!” Her pupils dilated with a look of hunger to be heard. “ Ethana!” But her cries were swallowed up by the stillness of the air, and devoured by the fog.
“ Ethana!” She repeated her name; hands clenched into fists, as she saw the child in the distance begin to disappear. She started, but the figure seemed to get closer, Ethana, delusional, rubbed her sore eyes. Had she seen wrong?
Reader, I will come to you and tell you, we are inside the mind of this child, her memories, everything that has happened to her, yet no one knows, remember this child. The one who is still pressing up against you, hoping to take the steady heart beat of your living body as hers. Push away every thought and every fear for a second, please.
The figure. It is she. She stares from a watchful distance, the place where she stands is a place called The Illusion Forest. The expanse between her memories and her imagination is smaller than the size of a mustard seed. She holds in her hands, the book of a solemn reader, one who finds all the answers through words. Her pitiful outline in the hills—
“ I disagree,” A voice appeared from the shadows of the void, “ with what you are seeing.” From the darkness came a young girl, she stood barefoot, bloody ankles. Her body was tattered with scars and scrapes. Reopened wounds, bleeding restlessly onto her dirty, mud-covered shirt and short, orange overalls. She had black hair, sleek and smooth. Her face was round, with a sort of tan complexion. Leaf green marked the center of her eyes, a determined look on her brows, and a hot, wet precipitation coming forth from her forehead. Her breathing was unsettled, as if she were just caught trying to catch a hen from an egg farm. She was neither tall nor short, but the size of a what a young girl should be.
“ The child’s mere existence is a risk to us all. You speak of her as a victim of circumstance, and target of the ‘fatal’ Descent. It is wrong to tell lies is it not? Do not tell me that twisting the truth is any better? I speak for us all: we dislike that thing.” The girl was not speaking to Ethana, she was calling forth to you, Reader, or rather both you and I.
She thrust forth a bleeding palm, pointing with two fingers at where the figure had been. “ And look now, it is gone!” the girl scrabbled at the ground, picking up a handful of small, smooth, river stones from underneath the mold and soil. She threw the rocks at the trees, but the trees withheld and stood firm without an etch. Growling, she began to leave, and then took two steps back towards the frightened Ethana, lip curled, warning, “ Leave, or forever be dead. This place is not for people like you.” Pausing, then saying, “ Or rather, please, I enjoy seeing you wander aimlessly in this forest, it will be pleasing to me to see you be—” She passed, anger fuming with heat from her body as a fire lets forth smoke into the sky, unwilling to finish her statement. Within the few paces she had took, she was gone.
Ethana stood, hazel eyes in shock, but it was not from the just recent encounter of emotions. The girl. The girl…she, that beastly girl, she spoke to me! Her heart lifting in an oblivious array of satisfaction. I must tell her. She commenced at the thought, but stopped. Then she began again, walking towards the place where the other girl had gone.



Upon arrival, it was determined by a certain someone, that Ethana was to be taught. It had been a while since she had first started her journey at home two days ago. She was hungry of course, tired, and agitated now. Her white socks were no longer the pure, but a shade of despondent gray-brown. The forest smelled of nothing she had ever smelled before, a smell that seemed to—
Ethana lifted her eyes, a voice, a voice as hollow as an owl’s cry when it finds no mouse wandering at night, was what she heard. “ And what are you doing here?” the voice called out. It seemed to whisper like the wind, but the place was still. No leaf twitched. She looked about; there was nothing there. “ Well?” it came again, this time closer.
“ I’m lost.” She murmured quietly, causing a mutual disguise of innocence. Her eyes bulged in a fear of death. Would he care if she twisted the truth? “ Who…”
The fog rolled up as a shade came about. Its eyes were of a distant yellow. Taller than any being, the size of a building, its spiritual breath inhaling her fright. The specter was an animal, a wolf to be precise. There is, in no right mind or conscious human thought, no possibility that this thing was real. Yet, it stood in front of her, eyes narrowed, a grin full of cracked teeth, dull though sharpened on every thing it could find. Its fur was spiked like a cat’s spine when frightened, and upon it was a grayish blue tint written in markings on its body.
“ You are lost?” His eyes widened as well as his grin, pupils like lost ladybugs on a bed sheet. He took a pace back and burst out into laughter, cackling. Suddenly his head edged forward towards Ethana’s. She took a step away, perturbed by the creature’s uncanny human like behavior as he blinked the tears from his eyes. “ That is—” his voice deepened, lost of all humor; pupils turned into sharks as his eyes pulsed with the veins

filled with unmoving blood. “ Incomprehensible.” He exhaled; a hot steam surged over Ethana’s head, hair blown back. It was the only wind in the forest, blowing through every parallel, identical row of trees and blasting out past the road of where the woods began and into the other forest on the other side of the street. Green leaves tumbled down, ready to be crunched underfoot, immediately turning into a crisp brown. An acidic odor pierced her heart as she inhaled his breath.
Her brow twitched, all this was impossible, recalling every detail that had happened. She urged, her voice cracked, dry with terror, and “Are you what has been killing all those people?” Her speech was small and timid, barely heard by a cat.
“ What?” The spirit lunged forward, passing through the frail body of the living being before him. His voice still a demon deep, “ You think I can kill people when I can walk through you just like that?” He let out another hoot of amusement. “ You humans never cease to amuse me.” Padding around the child, and then inquiring in a natural tone, “ You are not supposed to be here, tell me your name, Ethana.”
Ethana stood frozen in a disturbed distressful stance; she had felt his body go through hers. Then she paused, pushing the feeling away and rethinking his question.
“ Sir,” She began, hoping to commemorate his good side, “ You already know my name.” She pointed out softly.
“Ah, it appears you are right.” He fell to the ground, turning into a lump of plush fur. He closed his eyes, pupils now round and playful. “ I smell,” he murmured as he took in a deep breath of air. His eyes opened, they moved swiftly to where Ethana stood, the look on his disdained face was as if a knife had cut her heart. “ You have met some people along the way.” He stated calmly. “ It appears, so.” He replied to himself, “ Follow me, Ethana, you have strayed for a little longer than usual.” He heaved himself up, looking back to her with his yellow eyes, his nose twitched, and grin still about his face. Then, without warning, sprang with the muscles on his translucent haunches into the trees. He proceeded to prance; one step was the equivalent of a little less than a mile.
The young girl nodded, adjusted her brown shorts, folded her long pink sleeves up to her shoulders, and began to run to where the apparition appeared.

When the wolf stopped, he leapt down from the trees, and, landing lightly on his paws looked back to see his follower. She was sweating, we with water of humans as if she had just ran through a thunderstorm, her hair wild about her face, and tired eyes closed for a moment, and opened dryly. Panting, she came to a halt. “ There is an end?” she called. “ I thought the whole place—”
“ Silence.” The ghostly wolf growled, lashing his rumpled, blue painted tail in the air. Ethana stared in perplexity; her face was pale, mud now all over her clothes, feet bloody and covered in blistering sores.
They had stopped about three tree lengths from the end of the forest. There was a sunny patch of light that oozed from the cracks of the very last trees. Ethana squinted, still in disbelief that everyone had been mislead to think the whole area was just trees. Where the wood had met its end, was a hill, a large yellow-green, grass filled hill. It was a steep hill though, one that would take lots of effort to climb. She could see that at the ridge were five large, silver stones planted on the earth.
The sudden change in attitude from the spirit was enough to silence her without the need of words. She remained as alert as she could, though kneeling on the wet ground in an exhausted heap. He heard him begin, “ This is my end. I cannot go further, Ethana. Though it was a tiring meet, I enjoyed every second of your pain.” He was still grinning, the girl looked up with a bewildered look. “ I cannot very well be your friend yet, so with that, farewell.” He took one last glance at her, and bounded back onto the tips of the trees, never to be seen again as the slight outline of his figure merged with the fog above.
The girl lay, still confused, on the ground. She picked herself up, trying with effort to get to the hill. Oh Reader, how could it be, that you would read about this helpless creature? But Ethana appeared, standing hunched by the sunlight, nose crinkled in dismay as the warmth of the rays wrapped her skin. To the top. She determined her goal, leading her feeble body dependant on her assurance up the hill.
Her legs wobbled as she took every step, making sure she had a secure foothold before she took a stride of hope, and when the crest of the hill was achieved, she grabbed hold of a boulder and pushed herself up. Laying on her belly, her arid eyes widened. Everyone was wrong.
The scene was that of Paradise. The hill descended onto a plain of the yellow-green grass which extended even farther than the forest, cut in half by a river of sparkling, clear blue water that poured forth from several large boulders, which formed a cave. The river turned into a pool of hot springs at the mouth of the cave, and cooled on its journey to the west side of the vast lands. Siding the east, the west, and the north the forest continued, though more green and lush, and radiant with life. In the north, behind the shallow forestry, was a mountain of sheer, flat rock, as if God had smite it in half with lightning and done away with the other rubble. At the west side of the north, near the mountain, was a dull looking forest, spiked with petrified trees and a solemn apparel, but even this looked welcoming. She looked to her left, at the southwest, was a huge precipice, it too came straight down except for a few feet of hanging cliff, and was ascended to by a steady looking hill, but that turned steeper with every step.
“ Amazing…” Ethana murmured. “ What is this?” She started to stand, but was pulled back by an unspeakable, powerful force. She made a grunt, and hit the floor with her back; she lost her breath, as she saw the hand that held her.
It was a pale looking boy; his grip was unfathomably painful as he held her by her neck and pulled at her hair. He was tall and skinny. His glossy black hair was curved in bangs around his face of contempt for her, but it was no longer than his bangs that were pushed over to his right. He had dark, blue eyes, one of the ocean filled with sharks, which tore away at her flesh with just a look. “ Who are you?” He inquired.
“ E-Ethana—” She stumbled out, biting her lip, fearful that he would do something horrid to her as he narrowed his eyes in a deep paranoia. When there came no response, she called again, “ My name is Ethana, please don’t hurt me.” She begged. Ethana dropped to the ground as the boy let his grip loose, but it was not a release of satisfaction, for it was followed with a quick cock of a gun that appeared into his hands. Fearful tears welled in her eyes. “ Don’t shoot, don’t shoot, I just wandered here. Please, have mercy.” She repeated.
“ Let her go, Ice.” The voice of a saint! It was impeccable that this voice had to be of a kind person. It was smooth like the warmth of hot cocoa residing down into your throat, and the elegant accent like the bubbly froth of marshmallows. “ Let her go, Ice.” The voice repeated more firmly. The boy, whom she assumed was named Ice, released the gun, flipped it in his hand a couple of times, and the weapon disappeared.

“ Please, just go help carry the prey back, I will take care of this, okay?” The voice bribed Ice; he twitched, obviously annoyed, but dared not to fight back. He gave one more glance at Ethana, and descended the hill towards the river. “ Forgive him,” Ethana saw the shadow of a girl appear beside her. She started, frightened by the angelic voice. “ Oh, don’t fret. I will certainly keep you safe.” The voice came from a girl with not only the voice, but also the figure of an angel. She had a tinted white-yellow tinge in her long, straight blonde hair, with the sky blue eyes of a morning with hopes and joy. She wore a white shirt, and light blue skirt, neither were stained nor dirty, just pure white and blue. Her skin was soft and clear, the veins in her hand glowing a living bright purple.
“ Tell, me, how did you stumble upon a place like this?” She asked soothingly. Ethana hesitated.
“ I was on a journey,” She edged sharply, “ and came to rest. I spotted a person and followed them into the forest; I thought they might live here.” She fibbed. She felt the crackle and sting of the lie on the tip of her tongue, a bitter taste evolved around it. The cherubic girl drew back, her left eye twitched and brow turned in. Her spotless face was now plucked with the furrow of her concerned brow.
“ Oh?” She asked. “ What did they look like? What time did they come? How long were you here?” She withdrew her hand, which was presently laid on Ethana’s shoulder and replaced it with a growth of questions.
“ I didn’t really get a good glimpse, they ran too fast, and I got lost in the forest.”
Ethana proceeded to stand up. The girl looked up at her with the same perturbed face.
“ Oh, okay.” She responded quietly. “ Please, follow me. You look like you could use something to eat and drink and a place to rest.” She got up, not looking at Ethana, and began to descend the hill as well. Ethana followed. This side of the hill was not as steep, but still took her a careful amount of time as she dragged each sore foot to the front while the cherubic child seemed to walk with little effort, and seemingly without even touching the ground.
They began to walk the rugged path to the river. The river was quite large, its length was too long to determine, but it led all the way to the other side of the land, and its width about thousands of feet wide. But it settled with a bubbling, sweet sound that was pleasing to the ear, Ethana looked down as she lowered herself towards the surface. The water was not clear, it was not like a beach at all, rather, it was clear for about a foot deep and then turned into a murky green-blue. She extracted herself away, “ Why is the water like this?” She asked uneasily. “ It’s—”
“ Oh, don’t go in the water, dear.” The girl replied. “ It’s dangerous.” Ethana looked at her, eyes full of a puzzled hazel.
“ Okay.” She replied, and began to walk towards the blonde girl. “ I am Ethana.”
“ Yes, I know.” The response was quick and hasty, her voice full of thought. Then after a few seconds,
“ You may call me Moon.” Ethana blinked. Moon? The girl nodded. “ Yes, Moon.” She froze, did she read her mind or was it just a common response that she already knew what Ethana was questioning?
In the distance there was a fiery shape that was bounding forth quickly. It was the girl in orange. As she got closer, she hunched together, and pushing with her legs like a rabbit, leapt over the river and tumbled onto the other side of the river, scuffling the ground for a hold to halt with hands of steel. She appeared from the grass, wet from the riverbank, and patched with grass stains and mud. Walking towards Moon, seemingly oblivious to Ethana, she unbuttoned the pocket in the front of her overalls. “ Here, Moon.” She said in a contented voice. “ It’s what’s left from the Pack.” She gave a crooked smile. Now that she was close and not angry, Ethana could see clearly. The girl was not much older than fourteen. Her hair was pushed back into two pigtails on the side of her head, which gave a childish look to her, and aside these pigtails was the short, smooth hair of a mature teenager. “ Thank you, Ember.” Moon said, as she received a plump pigeon in her hands while Ember pulled out the lifeless bodies of prey from her blood stained pocket.
“ Apprentices caught these, I think they are rather good. No one in the Pack would take them, save their mothers, but they already had their share. So I took them back.” Ember glanced at Ethana, her eyes gave nothing away to her, and she settled a fair distance away from both Ethana and Moon, plucking the grass the way a child would with nothing to do.
Ice was a ways farther. He was coming back from the forests on the side; his khaki pants stained with the fear prints of blood from prey. In his secure, pale hands he held two rabbits by their ears between his fingers, and three rather shabby mice, which amounted to no more than a small finch. As he came closer, his unbuttoned blue-collar shirt and white tee was enough to see that he too had come from a rather exploratory happening; they were wrought with the assumption of a disheveled, unsanitary dupe. His earlier appearance of a tight knit, paranoid antagonist was clearly a misunderstanding of some sort.
Ethana sat, wrinkling her nose at the smell of burning flesh as Moon sauced the kills into the fire, smoldering it into a fine smoke. Immediately, Moon bounced up, her bright blonde hair waving around her, she shook a finger rashly at it as if perturbed by its profuse rancid odor. A movement in the embers contradicted the thought as a small creature dashed out among the blades of grass. “ How obscure—” Moon stopped, her eyes suddenly turned into the gasping wind of a storm. Not far off, there were two more people, walking in the direction of the fire. One was taller than the other, obviously a boy; he wore a black sweatshirt and dark jeans that stuck to his legs like a sticker. He wore a chain, which linked from his back pocket to his front, latching on to the ideal looking shape of a USB drive. He was walking with a low, hunched swagger of a teenage boy, his brown hair flopped around his forehead as he spoke to the girl, and eyes cast down to the ground.
The girl had long brown hair as well. She was wearing all blue: a light blue shirt inside an ocean deep, night sky blue over shirt, this was fastened securely by a button latch around the neck, that paralleled with her dark blue shorts. On her hands were the passing look of sky blue hand gloves, and knee high blue socks as well. Around her waist was a read sash, upon the sash were small vials filled with the contents of leaves and berries; needles carried on filled with several liquids if multiple colors. She looked like a river nymph, her frame beautiful like a mermaid. She had elegant, small feet that were encased in blue converse.
Both looked like they were in an intense conversation. The girl looked away as she spotted Ethana, the boy looked up. They had different reactions. It was uncertain of whether they were good friends, or concerned allies for their people. When they had

reached the distance of about ten feet away, they stopped. The boy called out first; his voice seemed like a caressing, understandable but reckless person. “ May I ask who this is?” He began to step forward.
Reader, he was asking for permission to know whom this unknown person was that inhabited on his land. You may at first think he is weak and a bit shallow, but there is more to a person than just the first encounter. One must know a person to first make a judgment, no?
Moon responded with the flare of her eyes, her finger was red as a cardinal’s wing having been pressing the cinders down to put a halt to the fire. The boy and girl approached cautiously, but the one in blue departed almost immediately after the first two steps. She crossed behind the boy, a sign of respect, and walked over to the faulty Ice as he reprimanded Ember for cheating him of the mouse that was not dead. Ember shook her head, throwing her arms into the air with a sort of nonchalant air about her.
Suddenly, with the same change as the spirit wolf in the forest, Moon ridiculed the group, “ Who brought this fool into our land? What was that living stump of an animal doing in my fire? I come to be hospitable to the helpless Innocent, and you jump me with—” She picked up a mug sized stone, almost in the same way as Ember had done earlier in the forest, and threw it at the group of threesome, huddled in an astounded, terrified look of perceptive joy at the sight of the angelic being, being so suddenly angered. “ Sun, Robin, you two have been talking too much about such petty difficulties in the pack. Why don’t you help out once in a while? I’ve been waiting for you two for a while now, taking care of these dolts!” She snorted with a sort of contempt for the two black-haired fools that pranced in the grass before her. “ Since sunrise and now to sundown, I’ve been having to watch every single thing they do. To make sure that Ember doesn’t go off doing her own thing, trying to stay as a group.” Then turning to Ethana, gave an unsightly and distasteful look at her, “ Forgive my impudent rants. I am no more like a human than you are a human. Please, excuse me. Instead, tell me, was it Ice who you first saw in the Forest?” Her tone had changed to one of a persuasive mother.
Ethana shook her head, “ It was—” getting up and pointing towards Ember,
“ Her.” Moon turned, the upset, hungered attitude of a killer, cursed with the angelic appearance of a saint.
“ Ember.” She murmured, half to herself, making an indistinct noise with her teeth, grinding. “ You brought this thing in here?” Immediately standing up, Ember took up the deed of answering like a soldier with pride.
“ Moon, I did not bring this parasite of life into our humble abode,” she began, her voice filled with the humor of an obnoxious child, but later thinned out with a foreboding of knowledge. “ I only stumbled on it in the forest, that thing came back today. Someone stirred it I think, and it awoke coming onto our land like it knew everything. Pissed me off, and then this hoodwink here,” She nodded her head at Ethana, which continued to be the unpleasant start of their relationship.
“ Came and started hooting in the forest at it. She scared it off, it’s wandering the land.”
“ Well, your decision to go after it. But that is not what I am addressing right now. You got called upon to meet this unlucky fellow, so that means—” Moon started, her burned finger pointing, already beginning to peel and scab. “ You are responsible for her.” Ember proceeded to walk forth, her mouth opened in a silent protest. “ Ember, you came upon her first, so you get the chance to be a blessing. Now, understand, I hate giving you this precious life that you could care less for, as much as you do. I know you lose all your things and everything dies in your hands, but I believe you could do something to change the outcome once in a while. Your other folly apprentices are still doing well, none have died by your fault yet.
“I must say, you were terribly wrong, there is something erroneous with your nose if you cannot tell the difference between one of our kind and an Innocent. She has been through much more than we assumed. The unflinching knowledge she shows on her face, she is not like the Innocents, but not much more to even be like us. You must continue her journey; if you fail her, there will be consequences.” Ember’s mouth curled into a frown of a discomforting scowl. Moon ignored her objective expressions, addressing the others to welcome Ethana. Ember approached. She was in no way of accord about the pairing, and neither was Ethana. Their eyes met; green slicing into hazel causing an electric anxiety between them. Ember, content with the convivial, meticulous images of seeing the emotions of pain she could inflict among the face of uncertainty that sat before her. Ethana, trying her hardest not to flinch at the eyes that seemed to search her mind, reading every memory she had and every idea she came upon.
“ I’m Ember.” A dissatisfying sentiment flooded over Ethana like a wave covering over the holes in the beach, making a shallow engraving on her heart; Ember had started the conversation. There was no more from the girl, Ethana sprang to her feet, and they met at their heights. Ethana was older and three inches taller. Ember stared at her shoulders, obviously displeased. She took her hand and gently pushed Ethana back until their eyes met once again. “ Better.” She demanded. Her voice was placid; the unpleasant tone in her voice was no more enjoyable than rain on a stiflingly blistering day. The tension was enough to kill. Ethana took another step back, ready to speak. Instead, there came the unannounced question, which came in a rather stunningly kind voice, “ Tell me about where you are in life.” Though the voice seemed kind, the words seemed taut with the complexion of a command.
“ As in?” Ethana queried, asking in a voice either to annoy Ember or show her confusion, or maybe even both.
“ As in: when did you start?” She shifted around, giving the impression that the topic was something discomforting and annoying to speak about, and when the girl did not respond, she commented again, but more hastily. “ Your Descent, when did you begin?”
“ My Descent?” Ethana echoed, feeling the utter embarrassment of her disposition slowly creeping out. Fidgeting around, Ember sat down. The others had already begun to leave, taking up what little of their belongings lay on the ground. Ice gave a brisk wave, swift and curt, as if discomfited to be saying good-bye to a friend who was talking with a stranger. Moon was already at the top of the hill, standing near the five stones in the ground. She had left the fire unattended, watching as it burned itself out. The boy in black, Sun, had come over; tossing the cooked pieces of prey that had been delivered by Ember and Ice earlier.
“ Eat those.” He commanded. Ethana stared at him as he walked away. Ember had ignored him, her hands plucking anxiously at the grass as before.
“ Descent, the act of one’s loss of sanity.” Ember spoke the words, the words that not one person would be joyful to hear, but only relieved. Ethana’s eyes fixed on Ember. Her brows turned in, a kind of uncomforting look upon her face, one that appeared when denial obscures the point or reasoning.