So this is my first, very hurried fiction that I have posted. My idea for this is to follow the shows of kuroshitsuji, quote it exactly, but twist it in a way that you can really feel the emotions of the characters. I by no means have created or own any of the works/ideas that makes up kuroshitsuji. Thanks and I hope you like :)
Prologue
A cloud of white feathers fell from the velvety-dark ceiling of the shadowy realm. Each one slowly slipped, tumbled, and gracefully clipped the invisible ground that was this dimension, fallen from some unseeable force. Their white plumes, beautiful yet simple, seemed to glow with a melancholy relief as they passed the forlorn body that hung above them. A boy, possibly ten years of age lay horizontal on a plain of energy, an impassive expression combed over his fine features. As empty as the void surrounding himself, his eyes stared unblinkingly into the face of this new dimension, no emotion coloring them. Those dead-blue eyes caught sight of a plump, white feather as it fluttered beside the boy, dwindling feebly in the air as it tried to catch a draft. Hopeless. A snarl caught his upper lip as he looked down upon it. How weak it was, the last of many feathers, holding onto some ill-fated hope as he had before his own bell had tolled. The boy gave the dying feather one last grimace until he turned his head the other direction, possibly in disgust of the item or in answer to the echo of presence that filled the space.
"Once one has rejected faith, it is impossible for him to pass through the gates of Heaven." A smooth voice cut through the black of the void, coloring it with a deep crimson.
The boy's eyes lolled towards this voice further with a lackadaisical motion. "Would someone who believed in God summon you?" he quipped. A milky glow from the fallen feathers illuminated the back of the boy, showing witness to the boy's bruised flesh.
A form slowly came to existence as it murmured a low chuckle. Gleaming with an evil aura, a black staff protruded out of the body of the feathered ground, a black raven resting upon it. Its cruel, black eye squinted in contemplation and the scythe that was a beak curled in a horrid example of a smile.
"Then, I will ask thee but once," the beak of the deathly bird did not open but its voice was clear and brazen through the expanse of the room. "Is it thy wish to form a contract?-"
"Enough!" the boy barked. "Form the contract and grant my wish!" The crow's posture seemed to hunch in anger at the outwardness of the human boy but slowly came towards a more relaxed, proud stance. Feathered shoulders back in admiration, the beak of the bird pulled upwards again in a nightmarishly sort of grin, its eyes glittering with a red hunger.
The feathers that had fallen around the boy started to rise, covering the boy's vision and the body of the bird. Their pure color and soft texture soon morphed as they grew thicker and thicker, combining into a malicious curtain. The white faded to an inky black, the delicate edges roughened to a razor-sharp blade, and their dance as they rose from the ground became more rapid and diabolical in manner, no longer as innocent as they had once been. These feathers, the representation of the boy's tainted soul, twirled and cut the air fiercely, breaking at intervals to show the transforming bird. Its body snapped and clicked grotesquely as it took on the more familiar shape of a human being: the beak broke away and revealed a smooth nose, the wings and talons melted their frames and stretched to represent limbs, and the black, beady eyes opened, dyed in a new paint of crimson, a crimson that would soon be the only guard to this newly born boy.