A/N: I know, I'm being bad and not adding chapters to BAGTWT. Truth it that I don't have a lot of time right now. This story has been sitting around on my hard drive for awhile, so I though I could give it some light. I don't really know how good it is, but I figure if people like it enough I could give it a go. I have a few chapters at least.

Warnings: Possibly spoilerific! Blood, gore, religious stuff that is standard in Silent Hill, as well as Clive Barkers Jericho. Why I thought it would be cool to mix the two, I do not know. This fic also contains some loosely represented material from both game franchises, as well as some bits from the Silent Hill movie. Since despite being a movie based off a game, it really did define itself in a beautiful way from any other game/movie adaptations.

Disclaimer: They've come to witness the beginning. The rebirth of paradise despoiled by mankind. I have nothing to do with this; ergo I do not own it. If you recognize it? Probably not mine, if you don't? Probably is. Please ask if you wish to use any of my insane elements in anything you want to do. Or at least give me links? I am a horrible fan-girl of fan-girls. Figure that one out.

Tamuril Telrunye Presents:

A Stray Sun

Chapter One: No Sun

A Silent Hill/Jericho Crossover

"In the darkness the dragon wakes; to a cold heart the dragon takes. You by my side the dragon sleeps; on dragon wings our wishes leap."

Fanalian Lullaby; Escaflowne.

Chapter 1: Magdalene of Tears

'In the beginning, people had nothing.'

Said a voice from the back of my hazy mind, a smoky feminine voice that seemed familiar but distant. The first sensation of being, that I could at the moment remember. That and the numb sort of vertigo that flitted in and out, like a tide swirling through my body.

My body... Me. Who was I? Where was I? And why did I feel like I'd been through a fifth of tequila and an ass kicking? It was dark, ~perhaps, if you opened your eyes it wouldn't be so dark~ and it felt as though the ground bellow me was moving. I struggled to open my eyes, noting as well a strange chanting noise that seemed to eddy around me, as once more the world dipped and swayed.

At first I could see nothing but light, a dim muted light that was disproportionately bright before my eyes adjust, if very slowly. Everything was blurry, and the chanting continued, a guttural sort of hymn echoing a crossed an expanse as my eye's came to land on a figure standing over me. A weight seemed to rest on my leaden wrist as I noticed for once, just how stiff and unresponsive my body was.

And I couldn't help the shudder I felt as my mind told me that this did not bode well at all. Not for me at least, as my eyes made out the face of the figure above me.

A man. Dark skinned, and bald seemed to waver back and forth in my sight as I realized that the reason the world seemed to be moving around me, was because it was. It was odd to feel the sway and buck of the surface bellow me, as the men on either end (Or I assumed that they were men) moved in time with what seemed like a steady current of people. They were all dressed in black robes, identical white porcelain masks covering their faces as the guttural hymn emanated from them.

I could feel canvas beneath me, as the white dress I wore rode up above my calf. My feet were bare, and I could feel the warmth in the air despite the strong winds tugging at the clothing of the figures around me. I attempted look to one side, but was unable to move my head as my neck responded only with the same dull sensations that the rest of my body reported.

Was I paralyzed? No, that didn't seem right. Drugged then probably. It seemed to fit, the sick dizzy feeling and lack of muscle control. Not to mention the sudden lack of memory. The stretcher moved up, and I felt as though I was being lifted over something as the man besides me removed his hand from my wrist before disappearing. A moment later and the man was back again, disturbing light in his brown/red eyes.

I felt the need to look away from him suddenly, and I did moving my eye's to observe the movement of my surroundings. Sandy brown bricks constructed walls on either side of the procession, broken with the type of wear that came only from the long decay of time. Occasionally there would be more sky, (Grey and clouded over) then brick, and then there were times when there was more brick then sky. But the hymn, and the hand of the man beside me were constant.

The weight of his fingers on my wrist bothered me, the feeling of his overly warm skin on my own felt intrusive in a way I couldn't entirely describe as I tried to pretend he was not there. I couldn't even tell you what it was that bugged me so much about him; it was just like an inner voice telling me that I shouldn't and couldn't put up with this fowl creature being anywhere near me.

An old statue caught my eye, and let my gaze follow it until it passed out of my field of vision. I was slowly regaining feeling in my body, very slowly. The statue was ancient and worn like the rest of the city, or what I believed to be a city, but it stood out boldly. A colossal man headed cat, with wings protruding from its back. It's head had a funny hat or was it a crown? On top of its head.

Ancient... Sumerian? My brain seemed to supply, as though it were familiar with such things. And really, was it? I couldn't entirely remember. My mind was strangely detached, and I couldn't entirely feeling anything. It was then I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye, and I went deathly still. A monster; dead fleshy white skin in the image of a man, eyelids pulled back in a way that would be painful for any human, and great white staring eyes.

My own eyes moved to stare at it strait on, instinct screaming at me to keep this creature in full view. But it was suddenly gone and the man who held my wrist turned noticing my state of awareness.

"So our little lamb is awake is she?" He move his hand towards my face, and I couldn't stop the weak attempt to get away. "Do not worry child, I will not harm you." I almost felt a hint of relief at this, until he continued. "That isn't my place. You will be with The Firstborn soon."

The entourage moved onwards, as he moved his hand to grip my wrist again. Apprehension twinge my mind, but was quelled soon by the odd sense that I was not alone.

"Retribution will be yours" Came a voice from my lips that both was, and wasn't mine. The same voice that told me to open my eyes, the same voice that I knew from before.

And the man looked at me oddly, before smiling.

"Indeed it will, little witch. Indeed it will."

And the entourage carried on, but I couldn't help but think that this man was taking it in the wrong context. It wasn't me that was speaking, true they were using my lips to communicate; but words weren't mine

"I give you one warning Daemon." Said the voice again, and the man turned back to look at me. "The lambs Shepard is a Wolf."

"Silence yourself, witch."

The voice went quiet, and for moment I thought perhaps it had left. Then in my mind I caught a sense of the voice again, and it seemed to be amused 'The lambs Shepard is a wolf, but a kind one' range through my mind, a thought not entirely my own.

The world seemed to fade in and out, as my mind gave way to the drugs that were in my system, and consciousness came in small fits as I attempted to fight against myself. Fighting the overwhelming need to sleep that was induced by the drug, and the sickness in my stomach that was apparently a symptom.

At one point I felt my world tilt, and I opened my eyes to find myself being lifted up, onto a raised surface that gave me a brief look at those around me. A crowd of masked people, circling around what could only be a dais. A dais that I was soon lowered down onto, before those carrying me left quickly.

The man released my hand as he went to speak to the others, before grasping something from one of them. For the first time I noticed that he was dressed in a slightly grander version of the same outfit that the others sported. Before I noticed what he now held in his hand.

A knife, wickedly curved and sharp.

Then they turned their attention to me, and I had the sudden urge to melt into the ground as he came towards me. The odd chanting seemed to pick up, as the man took his place at my side again and the others seemed to melt away into the crowd.

The man raised his arms, and the volume of the chant lowered to a hum.

"Today!" The man said, and I felt suddenly that I would really rather be somewhere else. I attempted to roll over, to move away. But my limbs refused to cooperate, my arms at very least twitched a bit moving slowly but nowhere near enough. "Today is the last of days. Today, we bring fourth our true master. Today we bring The Firstborn into our realm where it truly belongs!"

I felt a shiver run through me as I tried to gain control of my limbs, and flee. I needed to leave, I needed to leave NOW!

"Today, we bring fourth our salvation!" He said again, and the chant rose again before he leaned down grasping my wrist once more. "Let this innocent be taken into the hands of the Firstborn, as it is her blood that shall set It free."

He grasped my hand forcing the palm open, dragging the sharp knife a crossed my palm, slicing it from just below my index finger, to the bottom of my palm. The chanting rose to an almost feverish pitch, as pain lanced through my hand, and suddenly I had a sense of triumph in my mind. As a feeling of alien power crept around me, threatening to consume me yet... Unable to.

The scream of a siren split the air, low wailing cry echoing as the sky darkened, and the man was now looked about as though he didn't quite know what to make of the situation.

Instead the sound of a lone voice rose above the rest, a familiar smoky voice that wove a wordless tune over the screaming. The voice that was in my head, was singing? But not in my head this time, as anyone could clearly see. Then the feverish pitch of the chant broke with a scream, and was soon joined by another and another as an entirely different hum permeated the air.

This time wordless, and very much not human. I couldn't see very much of anything from where I was, but the pain in my hand seemed to ebb away at the numbness in my limbs. The creepy man dropped my arm, and the knife he'd been carrying in favor of a revolver before stepping over me and away. The knife landed less than a foot from my still bleeding hand, and I took the opportunity to grasp it clumsily. I could feel it in my hand, but I could not FEEL it. As though I were gripping hollow space in the form of a knife- like I'd slept on my arm long enough for it to lose all but the most basic of feeling. Encompassing my entire body…

"Protect the innocent! The Firstborn cannot be freed without her!" The monster/man cried, as some of the robbed figures attempted to rally around him. But as I pushed myself up on protesting muscles, catching sight of what exactly they were trying to protect me from I knew they would fail.

A horde of rotten flesh creatures, some skinless and dog shaped, others upright and human in form. All hideous mockery's of flesh and form that seemed natural to the world, advancing on the crowd as though a long hunt were drawing to a close.

The long low wails of the mass of creatures made me shudder as I scuttled back, away from the robed figures and their attackers. My legs were still relatively numb, but something told me staying was a very good way to get dead. On purpose or by accident was anyone's guess, as I shoved the knife into the bodice of the gown and began to drag myself away, mind in denial as it tried desperately to digest exactly what those creatures were.

I flopped off the dais with thump, stopping only to get my bearings as the drugs in my system caused the world to spin and sway. I moved dragging myself towards the edge of the arena like area the dais had been in, slowly but surely as I wove my way through the frantically moving crowd.

One man tripped over me, another stepped on my uninjured hand. But nothing would stop me from getting away, nothing could stop me. Because the same beautiful, terrible voice that was singing to the creature's around us, was also speaking to me in a way that words couldn't.

I moved myself towards a half fallen pillar, using it to slowly inch myself up onto numb feet and unsteady legs before using the wall as a makeshift support as I moved along. Balance was an issue since I could move my legs, but couldn't feel them as I tottered along.

Away from the screams. Away from the monsters. And into the dark and crumbling city, as I left the people to their fate.

Retribution indeed.

A/N: I would like to give credit where its due and say the line about the Shepard and the Wolf are both creations of the Author of Fatal Fascination~ Its another Silent Hill fic around here's somewhere.