Prologue
She never knew she had an uncle until her parents died. It’s strange how- sometimes in life when you lose important people in your life you gain some more.
Her mother and father died in a house fire. No one knew how it started except the one daughter who managed to survive.
But she was in no state to tell. She suffered mild burns but her mind suffered worst of all. She never spoke again.
She was kept in hospital for six months but eventually she was packed off to her uncle Scipio. She was thirteen years old and many said it was a crime sending a child off to such an evil man as Scipio.
The old man had a terrible reputation in the tiny village where he lived and if he ventured outside- which almost never happened- rumours flew about him like leaves in a storm.
The day the girl arrived caused a great sensation, all of the villagers who was able gathered in the Midnight Hangman- the local pub to gossip and drink to her hearts content. Many tall tales was spun in there and you never knew who to believe.
Meanwhile the girl had been led up to the old man’s mansion and was shivering with mingled cold and fear as she waited for the unknown being to answer the door. The young man chosen to escort them looked about himself nervously. He didn’t like the look of this place. The village seemed to be sinking into the ground itself and the mansion towered over it like a predator over it’s prey.
He knocked once more on the huge brass knocker. It was in the shape of an eagle and the eyes- which was blood-red rubies- gleamed evilly in the fast-approaching twilight.
Eventually the oak door- which was rather small compared to the size of the house- creaked open and a tall, slim man with white-blond hair and white eyes. There was no colour in him at all and he looked as if a mere summer’s breeze would crumple him into dust. He bowed and introduced himself as Abraxas, eternal servant to the Master Scipio.
The man couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He did feel a little for the little girl who was being left in such a madman’s care but he cared much more about getting himself as far away from the place as possible.
Abraxas watched the man race down the hillside, turned curtly, and began making his way along the poor-lit passageway followed closely by the girl. She was shown into a small; fire lit room and left there. But she was not alone. An old man was sitting in an armchair, watching the flames. He turned to face her and though no noise escaped her lips her face was a mixture of shock and horror. His hair was jet black and was kept in a ponytail that reached his waist. His skin was wrinkled and roughened with age like any old man’s but it seemed to tremble with energy and life. His eyes were a strong deep blue and you could yell they saw everything that went on about him. He would have been the perfect picture of health if it were not for the livid red scar that ran from just above his left ear to the bottom of his lips. It completely disfigured his otherwise handsome face and the little girl could not stop staring at it. The man smiled.
“You know it’s rude to stare,” he said in a voice as light as air but as strong as life. The girl jumped and he laughed quietly.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked and she shook her head. I am Scipio Orion Aurelius and I am your Uncle. What is your name?”
Silence.
“Did you not hear me? I asked who you are.” He said in a voice that clearly showed his irritation at being ignored.
But still there was silence.
“I shall ask you a third time. Who are you?”
But nothing was heard in the little room except the crackling of the fire.
Scipio took a deep rattling breath and sighed heavily. “If you will not tell me your name I shall have to give you one. Let me see… your parents died in a fire I think so I shall call you Ember.
He rang a bell for Abraxas and told him- “Put her in her room and keep her there until I decide what to do with her.”
Abraxas set off immediately and her uncle turned back to the fire so there was no one to see the tears that fell silently from the girls frightened eyes.
She never knew she had an uncle until her parents died. It’s strange how- sometimes in life when you lose important people in your life you gain some more.
Her mother and father died in a house fire. No one knew how it started except the one daughter who managed to survive.
But she was in no state to tell. She suffered mild burns but her mind suffered worst of all. She never spoke again.
She was kept in hospital for six months but eventually she was packed off to her uncle Scipio. She was thirteen years old and many said it was a crime sending a child off to such an evil man as Scipio.
The old man had a terrible reputation in the tiny village where he lived and if he ventured outside- which almost never happened- rumours flew about him like leaves in a storm.
The day the girl arrived caused a great sensation, all of the villagers who was able gathered in the Midnight Hangman- the local pub to gossip and drink to her hearts content. Many tall tales was spun in there and you never knew who to believe.
Meanwhile the girl had been led up to the old man’s mansion and was shivering with mingled cold and fear as she waited for the unknown being to answer the door. The young man chosen to escort them looked about himself nervously. He didn’t like the look of this place. The village seemed to be sinking into the ground itself and the mansion towered over it like a predator over it’s prey.
He knocked once more on the huge brass knocker. It was in the shape of an eagle and the eyes- which was blood-red rubies- gleamed evilly in the fast-approaching twilight.
Eventually the oak door- which was rather small compared to the size of the house- creaked open and a tall, slim man with white-blond hair and white eyes. There was no colour in him at all and he looked as if a mere summer’s breeze would crumple him into dust. He bowed and introduced himself as Abraxas, eternal servant to the Master Scipio.
The man couldn’t get out of there fast enough. He did feel a little for the little girl who was being left in such a madman’s care but he cared much more about getting himself as far away from the place as possible.
Abraxas watched the man race down the hillside, turned curtly, and began making his way along the poor-lit passageway followed closely by the girl. She was shown into a small; fire lit room and left there. But she was not alone. An old man was sitting in an armchair, watching the flames. He turned to face her and though no noise escaped her lips her face was a mixture of shock and horror. His hair was jet black and was kept in a ponytail that reached his waist. His skin was wrinkled and roughened with age like any old man’s but it seemed to tremble with energy and life. His eyes were a strong deep blue and you could yell they saw everything that went on about him. He would have been the perfect picture of health if it were not for the livid red scar that ran from just above his left ear to the bottom of his lips. It completely disfigured his otherwise handsome face and the little girl could not stop staring at it. The man smiled.
“You know it’s rude to stare,” he said in a voice as light as air but as strong as life. The girl jumped and he laughed quietly.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked and she shook her head. I am Scipio Orion Aurelius and I am your Uncle. What is your name?”
Silence.
“Did you not hear me? I asked who you are.” He said in a voice that clearly showed his irritation at being ignored.
But still there was silence.
“I shall ask you a third time. Who are you?”
But nothing was heard in the little room except the crackling of the fire.
Scipio took a deep rattling breath and sighed heavily. “If you will not tell me your name I shall have to give you one. Let me see… your parents died in a fire I think so I shall call you Ember.
He rang a bell for Abraxas and told him- “Put her in her room and keep her there until I decide what to do with her.”
Abraxas set off immediately and her uncle turned back to the fire so there was no one to see the tears that fell silently from the girls frightened eyes.
Kalie's P.O.V
we saw the zombies coming our direction.we got our arrows ready. we were slowly walkinng when Anny falls on a coprse. we saw it was the scientist,. she screams in a high pitched. i wuickly cover her mouth. one zombie came by the pale grey skin. peeled bloody patches. white grey eyes. the rotten meat odor. i shoot it wtih the bullet. the blood flying. we went runnig. so we were the only ones alive. thats why the testers wanted us. they thought we were effected. well we are clean. for now. we kept running the growling of zombies behind us. i trun and see one of them grab anny's neck. i shoot them and they fall guts going. i grab her and check her. luckily she was alright. i sigh in relief and carry her over my shoulder. we were runnig when their was a cliff. now what?
we saw the zombies coming our direction.we got our arrows ready. we were slowly walkinng when Anny falls on a coprse. we saw it was the scientist,. she screams in a high pitched. i wuickly cover her mouth. one zombie came by the pale grey skin. peeled bloody patches. white grey eyes. the rotten meat odor. i shoot it wtih the bullet. the blood flying. we went runnig. so we were the only ones alive. thats why the testers wanted us. they thought we were effected. well we are clean. for now. we kept running the growling of zombies behind us. i trun and see one of them grab anny's neck. i shoot them and they fall guts going. i grab her and check her. luckily she was alright. i sigh in relief and carry her over my shoulder. we were runnig when their was a cliff. now what?
this is a fan fiction of the novel, Darker Still, by Leanna Renee Hieber.
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Disclaimer: Ms. Hieber own the rights to the book Darker Still.
___________________________________________
Summary: In New York, 1880, Natalie Stewart fell in love with Lord Denbury, known as Johnathon Whitby to family and close friends, who was trapped in a painting; and under a curse. With the help of family friend, Evelyn Northe, she is able to free him, and they leave the state.
But history repeats itself.
Now, in present day New York, 13 year old Katia Whitby (Natalie's Greatx6 granddaughter)has become entranced by a painting which seems oddly alive. Katia is also mute, like Natalie was. She seems to some of the same abilities that her great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother did. Because her father works for the local museum of art, she's able to see the incredible painting with which she's obsessed more often. But is that really best?
___________________________________________
Disclaimer: Ms. Hieber own the rights to the book Darker Still.
___________________________________________
Summary: In New York, 1880, Natalie Stewart fell in love with Lord Denbury, known as Johnathon Whitby to family and close friends, who was trapped in a painting; and under a curse. With the help of family friend, Evelyn Northe, she is able to free him, and they leave the state.
But history repeats itself.
Now, in present day New York, 13 year old Katia Whitby (Natalie's Greatx6 granddaughter)has become entranced by a painting which seems oddly alive. Katia is also mute, like Natalie was. She seems to some of the same abilities that her great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother did. Because her father works for the local museum of art, she's able to see the incredible painting with which she's obsessed more often. But is that really best?
How I long to be back in my sweet haven,
Covered in blankets,
Replenished with water and the works,
Right now.
But.
I am not always so lucky to have one
For I am not your regular kid
Who always is lucky to have everything
For...
I am not a kid
I am not a person with a home
I am...
An infamous vagabond
Known for many cases of murder
And everything that I consider to be
My hobby.
I love being a bad vagabond.
Being bad's how I live.
So live with it.
Or get killed.
This.
Very.
Instant.
Covered in blankets,
Replenished with water and the works,
Right now.
But.
I am not always so lucky to have one
For I am not your regular kid
Who always is lucky to have everything
For...
I am not a kid
I am not a person with a home
I am...
An infamous vagabond
Known for many cases of murder
And everything that I consider to be
My hobby.
I love being a bad vagabond.
Being bad's how I live.
So live with it.
Or get killed.
This.
Very.
Instant.
Fire.
It is destruction.
But yet,
it shines beauty, and;
it is the gift of rebirth,
new beginnings,
the strength that boils within your soul,
bumbling deep inside
beneath the surface
waiting for you to
spread your wings like a phoenix,
showering you with the fire
waiting to burst to the surface and shine.
Fire,
its energy,
raw and primal energy
one so old,
the flames cry a thousand tears,
of souls lost within its flames,
their souls,
live within the fire's kiss
eternally,
becoming one with the fire,
and be reborn,
forever and eternal
as a phoenix...
the soul immortal
as is the fire,
wild, passionate, primodial
can it be tamed?
No. can love be tamed? No
Love is like the fires....untamed, unstoppable...
it consumes,
like a fire's kiss.
Do you dare to play a fire's game??
It is destruction.
But yet,
it shines beauty, and;
it is the gift of rebirth,
new beginnings,
the strength that boils within your soul,
bumbling deep inside
beneath the surface
waiting for you to
spread your wings like a phoenix,
showering you with the fire
waiting to burst to the surface and shine.
Fire,
its energy,
raw and primal energy
one so old,
the flames cry a thousand tears,
of souls lost within its flames,
their souls,
live within the fire's kiss
eternally,
becoming one with the fire,
and be reborn,
forever and eternal
as a phoenix...
the soul immortal
as is the fire,
wild, passionate, primodial
can it be tamed?
No. can love be tamed? No
Love is like the fires....untamed, unstoppable...
it consumes,
like a fire's kiss.
Do you dare to play a fire's game??