AN: You know, one day I will actually finish a fic before I start a new one but ah well. This is a random plot bunny I've had for ages.
Not sure about this prologue. It's pretty short and will most likely be revised later when I have more time.
Anyway, this does story contain an OC, and whilst there will be love up to a point, it will be unrequited. Hopefully, she will stray away from Sue territory, but you never can be sure. :|
Random rant but is it just me that finds this new look of this website confusing? :L
Read and review? :)
He knew. He had known from the very first moment he'd set eyes on her that she would bring about his doom. An angel of death she was, and now, she had come for him, her cold hands outstretched and grasping. It was his life she wanted, his very soul that she sought to consume and he, for all his wisdom, was powerless to stop her.
She approached him slowly, the sharp glint of metal in her hand. Her touch was as cold as her gaze, perfectly calm yet showing signs of the underlying storm barely concealed beneath the surface. She caressed his face gently, her blue eyes wide and distant. The man began to writhe upon the ground, desperately seeking a way to be free of the invisible bonds she had placed over him. A witch she was, with a heart of stone and a face of marble. Still, he should have bested her for he was many years her elder and had in his finger tip more magic than many possessed in their whole bodies. As it was, she had overpowered him and now, he was looking destiny in the eye.
She bent down and whispered in his ear, words of hatred and despair but never of remorse. No, he realised. She did not regret what she was about to take from him, what she had taken from countless others. All he could do was look at her with wide eyes, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to do anything other than watch the brutal strokes of the knife as she carved a small symbol into his cheek. He thrashed again wishing she would take him now and spare him the pain. Shaking her head, she ran her fingers along the blade wincing as it sliced into her skin.
The pain helped her to concentrate and she turned her attentions back to her victim, a small smile twisting the corners of her mouth. Even now she was beautiful, a wanton, destructive force that he had sneered at and mocked! He had been wrong, he knew that now. She was so much more, and he had helped her to become it. He could have prevented this, should have prevented this, because he knew that he was the one who had made her hard and cold.
It was only now that he realised what she had known for many years; the student had surpassed her teacher.
"I'm not sorry," she said softly before placing a bitter kiss upon his lips.
Then, the knife descended and he breathed no more.