Author's Notes: This fan fiction has been posted here before under a different name. I decided to repost it, however, because the version that was up is no longer valid due to extensive editing it has undergone. I felt it necessary to update it. If it sounds familiar, that is why. Anyway, I have split the story up into five parts. At the moment, it's over nine thousand words long. I don't think anyone wants to sit in front of a computer and read that much in one sitting.

Remember: If you read, please leave a comment. It's always nice to know where and what I need to improve.

Embers of the Past

Part I

Sunlight beat down onto the ground, melting the individual colors into one blistering gold shade. The wilting spring grass swayed back and forth in the cooling breeze. A lack of rain that year and the brief dispense of a caregiver for the fields allowed them to fade just enough for them to appear hopeless. Patches of green and wildflowers, however few there were, gave the area hope.

The distant green hills helped to soothe the sting of the gold-brown color of the ground. It allowed a human to stand upon it and give it a small smile. No, hope was not completely lost on the fields.

Birds chirped in the trees surrounding the swaying grass. Loud, calm calls of a wild bird echoed between the blades. It was a serene sound, teetering on obnoxious. It didn't bother the quaint butterfly that briefly landed on a purple wild flower. It seemed to ignore the sound as it tested each flower. Its vivid colors blurred together as its wings fluttered noiselessly. Finally finding a flower it liked, it settled cautiously upon its petals.

The butterfly flapped its wings once, twice, and then let them relax. The colors now exposed, the vivid orange and yellows would easily allow the insect to hide within the overgrown, wilting grass. Since it was not within the barriers of decaying grass, however, it was entirely noticeable.

A rustling in the grass caused the butterfly to stir and leave its comfortable perch. A young girl emerged from the grass and ran around the flower perch. The butterfly flew above her head, weaving slightly in the wind.

Her pale skin glowed in the sunlight, making her light blonde hair seem more white than yellow. A light patch of pink stained the smoothness of her cheeks, the sun leaving its mark. Her gray-purple eyes glistened with the joy she felt; a smile played with her child-size pink lips.

The girl wore a pink dress that flared out from her waist and reached her mid-calf. Her thin ankles were concealed by thick socks, which then disappeared into white sandals. The toes of her socks were stained with dirt and grass. The girl paid it no heed.

She stopped running amongst the flowers and looked up. Thick groups of clouds floated across the deep blue sky, but she seemed oblivious to their ominous presence. Her eyes focused upon the butterfly flying above her head, however still struggling in the wind. A loose strand of her hair flew into her face, but she didn't bother to brush it away.

"Butterfly," she said cheerfully, pointing at the delicate insect. Bringing her arm down, she giggled. She began to jump and down in excitement at finding one. The butterfly regained control and began flying towards the next patch.

The child immediately noticed the insect's actions and stopped jumping. Following the butterfly's movement, she began skipping and singing, "Butter, butter, butterfly!" repeatedly. Her voice was high in pitch and loud, yet clear. The only thing breaking the sound was her laborious breathing. The energy of skipping and singing made her voice sound winded. She didn't stop.

"Emmeline Vance!" a woman called out. "Emmeline, come on, sweet heart! It's time to come in!"

But the child didn't hear her mother's cries. She was too enthralled by the butterfly. Her singing blocked out any noise, save for the rustling of her dress against the golden grass.

The butterfly suddenly dropped from the sky and gracefully fell onto another flower. Emmeline stopped her singing and skipping to watch the insect. She walked slowly into the patch.

The butterfly rested on a flower on the opposite side of the patch, next to a fence post. Emmeline was not supposed to be this far out, nor had she ever. Fear suddenly clutched her small heart as she stared at the fence post. Her mother would be angry if she found out where Emmeline was, she knew it. But Mama doesn't have to know, Emmeline thought as she began to slowly walk backwards, back towards her home.

All thoughts of her mother's retribution was immediately forgotten, however, when the butterfly flew off of the flower. Emmeline giggled once more and ran towards the insect. She jumped after it as it flew higher. Her childlike soprano voice rang out as she resumed singing, "Butter, butter, butterfly!"

Without realizing it, Emmeline had moved closer to the fence. She continued jumping after the butterfly, her small hands reaching high into the air as if to grab it. Countless times she left the ground, hands high above her head, and returned to the ground with nothing but air in them.

One time, on her way back, Emmeline's foot became caught in her dress. Unable to put her foot down, she began to fall backwards. A feeling of fear invaded her joy as panic contorted her face. Her hands reached out before her as if to grab something, but there was nothing to latch on to.

A pair of strong hands reached out to stop her fall. Her back was saved from reaching the ground, but her bottom fell roughly onto the springy flowers. Emmeline let a small gasp escape her lips, expelled both for the shock of the hard ground on her bottom and for the hands on her back.

The hands reached underneath her arms and set her on her feet. Emmeline stared straight ahead, her mouth hanging open, as her mind tried to catch up with her. Slowly, she turned around and found she was looking straight at a wooden beam of the fence. Her eyes traveled upward and saw a pair of legs clothed in black cotton.

Higher they traveled, until she was looking above the fence and at the face of a man. He towered over her, making him appear to be a giant. Emmeline's mother had filled her head with stories about giants, and Emmeline didn't like them. Further observation, and the realization that the man before her was human, helped suppress her urge to scream.

The man had black hair and pale skin. The teeth exposed from between his smiling lips were crooked and yellow. The blue tint of his eyes made him seem almost friendly, but even young Emmeline could recognize the harsh glint in their depths. She took a step back, the fear she felt evident on her face.

"Ought to watch where you're going," the man said. His accent was strange to Emmeline. "Never know who could come and catch ya." Something about the way he said the words caused Emmeline to shiver.

The man turned his head away from her and said something. His lips moved, but Emmeline was not able to recognize anything he said. His speech reminded her of her grandfather when he was sick. He would always spit, clearing his throat with a hauch-ing sound first. He said it was to get the green goo monsters out. It had always made Emmeline laugh. She smiled now.

She turned her head in the direction the man was speaking. Suddenly, her joy and grin vanished as she realized the man was not alone. A boy, so Emmeline thought, leaned against the fence. One booted foot was planted on the lowest plank of wood that made up the wooden railing.

This male wore a brown hat that concealed his face in shadows. Wisps of black hair were pasted against his neck. His shirt was soiled with dirt; his nails were lined with brown. The arm that rested on the fence moved up in a gesture as he responded to the man in the same foreign language.

Instantly, both of their heads shot towards Emmeline. Briefly she thought she had accidentally said something and allowed her jaw to hang limp, but quickly realized they were looking over her. The first man turned to the one in the hat and said something. The hat boy turned and looked at her, a smile forming on his lips. Emmeline began to back away when the first man's voice stopped her.

"Emmeline?" he said softly. She brought her eyes up to his face, her jaw still down about her chest. "Emmeline Vance, that is your name?"

Unthinkingly, Emmeline nodded slowly. She didn't know how this man knew her name, but began to relax a bit. Maybe these men knew her father? They would be good men, then.

"Emmeline Vance!" her mother's voice reached her ears. She sounded worried. Emmeline whirled around and faced her house.

"Mama?" she said quietly.

"You better go to her," the man said from behind her. Emmeline turned only her head to face him and was once more afraid of these men. She could not mistake what she saw in their eyes as anything remotely friendly. The man pointed in the direction of her mother. She swallowed and took off running.

"Mama!" Emmeline shouted.

"Emmeline, where are you?" her mother shouted back, relief flooding her voice.

"Here, Mama!" Emmeline saw her mother. Her back was to Emmeline, so Emmeline ran straight for her. She collided with her mother's legs and wrapped her arms around them.

The child's mother, almost falling, turned and picked up her daughter. Holding her tightly, she began to plant kisses on the crown of the child's head. "Oh, Emmie," the woman sighed. "Where in all of Hades have you been, love?"

Emmeline leaned back in her mother's arms. "I was in the flowers! I saw a butterfly," she announced.

"A butterfly, you say? Was it a big one?"

Emmeline nodded. "It was real pretty. I tried to catch it, but it went too high."

"You didn't go by the fence, did you?" Emmeline tensed; her mother felt it. A frown fell upon her lips. "Emmeline Vance, did you go by the fence?"

Tears pooled in the child's wide eyes. "I didn't mean to! I only wanted to catch the butterfly. I thought you would be happy if I did." Tears were now streaming down her face. "I'm sorry, Mama, but I almost caught it! But I fell. But the big man helped me not fall so hard. He—"

"Man?" Emmeline's mother suddenly looked anxious.

Emmeline nodded. "There were two"—she held up two fingers—"but the big man helped me."

The woman looked up towards the fence. Both men were still there, watching the mother and her daughter. The one wearing a hat raised one arm and gave her a small wave. The other smiled at her. The child's mother returned the smile and nodded in response, but couldn't help feeling afraid. She had felt the same way when she went into the market earlier. It was a small town, surely, but they couldn't know the truth of their existence yet.

Could they?

"They were nice," Emmeline said, causing her mother to glance down at her. "But they talked funny. Are they Papa's friends?"

"No, Emmeline," the woman said in a breathless tone as she turned towards their small house. "Listen, Emmeline. I don't want you to go near that fence again, you understand?" The fence was the only way to protect Emmeline from the evils surrounding them. Or, at least that is what she thought.

"Yes, Mama," the child replied dejectedly.

"And I don't want you talking to those men again. They're bad men." The child's mother opened the back door to their home and stepped inside.

"But, Mama, they were nice!" Emmeline protested as she was set upon the scarred wooden table.

"They were polite, love. Those men don't like our kind." The woman turned to the stove and stirred the cooking pasta. She let go of the spatula and watched it stir itself for a second. She then turned to the counter and started cutting tomatoes. "I don't want something to happen to you. You cannot trust them, Emmeline. Didn't they scare you? You can always tell when someone does not like you by the way they smile. You cannot trust those with a black smile. Are you understanding, Emmeline?"

"Yes, Mama," Emmeline replied quietly. But she did not understand. A Black smile, the child thought as she played with a splinter on the side of the table. She didn't know what a black smile was.

A thought came to her that made her shudder. Maybe it was like the red smile of a clown! Emmeline thought. She pictured the first man with black make-up smeared around his lips as he smiled at her. Emmeline didn't like clowns. She saw one last month at the circus. Her parents had to take her home because she wouldn't stop crying. No, clowns were scary, she decided.

Emmeline glanced out of the kitchen windows and stared at the men. They were still there by the fence. She could see their lips move, but their eyes were focused in her direction. She shivered; they frightened her. Whatever this trust thing was, Emmeline didn't think they had any. Alls she knew was that trust was a good thing, and these were bad men. With black smiles. She ignored her earlier connection of them being good.

The image of the man with a "black smile" resurfaced in her mind. She decided then that she did not like them. Then, another thought scared her.

"Mama?" Emmeline asked.

"What is it, Emmie?" the woman asked without turning away from the stove.

"How come people don't like us?"

"Because we are different."

"How are we diff'rent?" Emmeline continued to watch the two men.

"We have . . . powers they do not."

"Is that bad?" Emmeline glanced at her mother.

Her mother turned from the counter, putting off the remaining tomatoes' doom. "They don't approve of our kind. Magic is something that scares them, love."

"But why?"

The woman paused and stared thoughtfully at her daughter. Unable to come up with a response, she shrugged and turned back to the stove. "Ask your papa, Emmie."

"Does he know?" Emmeline turned her attention to the men outside. The man in the hat threw back his head in laughter. Slapping the laughing man on the back, the other turned away from the fence and walked away.

Calming the laughter, the man in the hat glanced once more at the house, piercing through the glass. Emmeline thought if he were her kind, he would probably break the glass with his glance. Emmeline felt the weight of his gaze on her before he turned and followed his companion into the trees.

Emmeline barely heard her mother's response. "Yes, your papa should know."

Somehow, Emmeline felt he wouldn't.