A thin, claw-scratch moon penetrated fine, misty clouds, casting their outlines molten silver. Hundred of millions of golden flecks scattered across the sable sky, shining through the clouds. Weak moonbeams fell to the earth, dappling everything with an ethereal radiance.
A strangled cry from the verdure depths of a glade echoed amoungst the timber warriors. The metallic clang of a bladed weapon rang out as it escaped it's wielder. The thump of a body falling to the ground, the rustle of clothing and the splatter of blood accompanied it.
A hooded figure scrutinised the fallen form momentarily, before leaping up and obscuring the stars above. The subsequent quivering of foliage indicated that the shadowy man had fled the scene by leaping amoungst the trees, but this was of no consequence to a third, shell-shocked silhouette.
He stumbled forward, his grip slackening as he beheld his collapsed comrade. His sleek, silver sword, glistening in the moonlight, clashed from his hand, crashing against the earlier-discarded blade. Any support his legs formerly gave him crumbled away, leaving the man to slump to his knees.
His vibrant, blood-lust filled gaze burned away, leaving behind emotionless, coal eyes and an ashen face. A quiet, peaceful sigh left his ally's lips, hope surging up inside him, only for despair to crash back down on him with the full force of the tide as her head lolled limply to the side.
Raven ringlets flared around her shoulders, wreathing her face in a midnight halo. The moon's rays bleached highlights in her satin hair, weaving intricate webs of light. Her cold, porcelain skin was illuminated in the weak light, making her appear as fragile as the wings of a butterfly.
Crimson pooled around her narrow torso, which now seemed too narrow, too thin, too easily broken. A large, gaping wound slashed her otherwise flawless gossamer gown of woven spider's silk, painted scarlet with her blood. Garnet still stained her fingertips from when she'd first been struck.
Emerald orbs stared lifelessly at the man, asking him why, why, why he'd let her meet such a fate. He stared back at her blankly, his expression just as empty as her dead one. He subjected unwillingly to his memories, allowing himself to be pulled from this reality which had become a nightmare.
He remembered holding a woman for the first time, the passion, the excitement, the love that had flourished. He was a targeted man- wanted dead by those he knew possessed more power than he could hope to imagine. He knew that intertwining their lives would endanger her life, yet he couldn't resist, he couldn't pull away.
He'd paid the price when he'd walked in on his first lover's broken and battered body, carmine streaks running through her hair, down her arms, across her skin, faceted like rubies. He'd sworn he'd never love again; he'd never perform the dance of love that would entice the song of death.
It was the song that changed everything.
And it was playing now.