A/N: During November of last year, I contacted fellow Author Fighter X Prodigy with a story idea. It was insane, and crack, so he loved it of course. It was only when he had the idea to add a drop of darkness to this story that the thoughts of it became less humorous and more black, like a heart tainted by shadows. It only spreads, and never backs down. This is Author Fighters: The Hounds of Winter.

Prologue: The Imprisoned

"Lean on me/when you're not strong/and I'll be your friend./I'll help you carry on/for it won't be long/till I'm gonna need/somebody to lean on."
-Bill Withers, "Lean On Me"

"Guilt is perhaps the most painful companion of death."
-Coco Chanel


Infinite darkness.

She knelt on the ground, leaning over. Brown hair hung a curtain over her face. Shackles bound her wrists and ankles, chains holding her tight to the incorporeal ground. Her expression was peaceful.

"It's been a while now, so I gotta ask. How long, just how long, do you think you can keep me here?"

She received no answer. "My, my, getting irritated, are we? How immature."

A voice echoed through the darkness. It came from all directions, and yet she would say that it came from the depths of her own mind.

"Forever. That's how long."

She closed her eyes, considering the answer. "You're delusional," she concluded. "See, it doesn't matter how many chains bind me. How this prison appears to my eyes. How much you want me to stay here. Just let me gather my strength, and soon enough, I'll be able to free myself."

"Good luck with that."

The chains rattled as she stood. They were only just long enough. She cast her sight across the black, and sighed. She really didn't care what her jailer said. Her day was coming, and soon enough, the shackles would fall away.

She smiled, and her eyes shone.