AN: Psycho, here. This is the edited version of the prologue, in which I have fixed some of the errors that were brought to my attention. Thanks for all the reviews that my readers gave me for the original though. 3
*Prologue*
Night is always dark. It excites the darkest desires and evokes the worst in all of us. It is when most murders are committed; when the seediest of characters prowl to take their fill of what life may bring them; and it is, perhaps for this reason, we quite rightly have fear of the dark. Children know this fear; it is intuition. Adults, even teens, have learnt to fool themselves countless times over by calling it irrational, the stuff of nightmares. Just nightmares, they say. The stars watch everything and yet they never act. It is this kind of merciless peace that feeds their eternal flames.
A black haired boy reaches a hand out to the night sky. They shine as far away as ever, perhaps farther, just to mock his poor attempts. One day he would reach them, he thinks.
"See that's Orion, the hunter… and there's his club. Just there." He points, looking over to his friends as they lie on the roof of Fenton Works.
"No matter how many times you tell me, they still look like dots, Danny." Tucker's voice smarts his pride like acid. His friend pays no attention, but carries on regardless.
"…Why don't we just enjoy the view, guys? We've not had time to do this since…" she, the only girl amongst them, trails off. They know the truth hurts, even though they're fourteen, they know.
"I still exist, that means you still turn into me"
"Everything's the way it's supposed to be." Danny said under his breath with a shiver. It's his hope that, if he echoes the time master's words often enough, he might believe it too.
"Exactly. So there's no need to worry about it, Danny. Clockwork knows everything; he wouldn't say that unless he meant it."
"Thanks Sam." His gaze never leaves the heavens and his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"Okay, so that one…there is the North Star" he points out, after just a moment of taut silence. "If you can find it, you can always find your way…home?" A tear of pure darkness rests upon his stretched fingertip. It expands before him; a double of the night sky, except the constellations are not of this world. It's a silhouette, a spectral body, glowing iridescent white at the edges of its form. Then the eyes open. They are blood red, like sin, or anger, and they shine like liquid malice.
AN: Please R&R,
Psycho xx
