I dreamed of death. Death of my world, my beliefs, of things ending. My own death, in a sense, for I was a completely different person, unknown to myself - A stranger in the familiar shape that was my body.

I remembered voices and lights, bodies crumpling to the ground. More voices, strange and distant, not those of my family whose gentle tones I craved but urgent, authoritative voices that spoke of a higher purpose. Warmth eased my senses and I realised it was coming from Sebastian's body as he carried me princess style, my head, devoid of strength, nestling into the curve of his chest.

I had let him carry me, taking comfort in the support. The voices muddled together until they sounded like the rising crashes of the ocean waves, beating against the rocks relentlessly. I knew the noise was alarmingly loud, a chaotic frenzy as a soldier returned from fight, victim in tow, but I didn't care.

Or was I the victim? I had willingly given up a life of schedules and appointments for this, perhaps I was simply a soldier too.

Now everything faded away as I dreamed of blood and death, angels and demons, lies and truths. A face. I didn't know how I knew but it was Raziel's face, the hard set of his mouth seeming out of place on a divine child of God, the fine lines at his eyes too sad for one so heavenly. I kept trying to reach out, whether to hold him or merely touch his wheat skin, I wasn't sure, and then he was gone. Replaced with images of red skies and landscapes strewn with bodies, some clothed in black, the others a dark crimson - two sides of an opposing army, dead, with no one left standing to bask in the glory of a victory.

If this could even be called a victory, I thought bitterly, choking back a sob that threatened to burst from my lips. I clenched my fists, realising with a start that they each held something in them. My heart pounded as I raised my arms to eye level.

They were swords.

Slick with blood, and somehow, I knew it wasn't mine.

My pale knuckles were covered with it, the stuff oozing out from under my clenched hands on the hilts that now shook in my grip, trailing blood down my arms. The two blades clattered to the ground soundlessly. I watched as the blood that stained the metal blade now stained the blades of grass. My mind whirled. I stared at my feet that were bare despite the red liquid that coated them, both old and new, dry and wet. Bloody footsteps tracked from the massacre before me, up the rise in the hill. I turned, surveying the land behind me which was bare and peaceful, the footsteps nowhere to be seen, for they ended where I stood.

My shaking hand went to my throat, grasping onto empty air. My pendant was gone.

You killed them. A voice in the dark shadows of my mind said, confirming what I had feared. You killed them all for that is what you are. A killer. Amusement coloured the cold voice, and it laughed. It's soundless chuckle echoing inside my head. All Nephilim are but you are worse for your heart is tainted with a merciless wrath that lacks the controlled temper of God's heavenly children.

"Stop it." I whispered. My head was pounding.

The frost will destroy everyone it loves, if it doesn't destroy itself first.

"Stop." My voice came out feeble and desperate, a waver in its pitch. I shut my eyes and fell to my knees. I didn't understand. I didn't understand anything the voice was saying. I wanted it to end. I wasn't a killer, I was a normal girl. I hated what the voice was saying and how it managed to turn my world upside down, making me doubt myself, fear myself. "Just stop it."

I felt the voice smirk.

I'm not the one hurting him. It said. You are.

My eyes snapped open and my blood ran cold. Raziel gazed up at me. Confusion and hurt in his expression as a sword - one that I had been holding, I realised with a start - protruded from his chest, his hands gripping the blade, as if he could prevent it from sinking deeper.

My own hands were holding the hilt.

Raziel coughed blood, his lips parting as I snatched my hands back and stared at them in horror. They were the same hands I used to stroke my sister's hair, play the piano, but now I regarded them with a new found terror.

A killler's hands.

I screamed.

A scream so full of fear and grief that It seemed to shatter the world around me, splintering like the glass of a broken mirror as piece by piece, darkness surrounded me once again.