Here we go; another chapter. Sit back and relax!


"And you have proved to be

Real Human Being

And A Real Hero"


Chapter 7 – Darkest before Dawn


Frantic spirits moved around him. The spirits of the old men noticed the spirit of a young girl whose corpse was naked and bloody and broken—and their earlier malice returned. Only this time, instead out of lust, they were advancing on her out of fear.

"What did you do—you bitch—"

Harry ignored them, as the fat fist of the man's spirit went through the girl's, and both of them froze in shock.

He kept his gaze at Rosalie Hale. At her tearful eyes, at her slightly trembling figure. She was conflicted, anguished, and furious all at the same time. Harry watched her silently, waiting for her to burst, but she remained still for a good minute.

When she finally moved, she took no mind or response to his presence. The way she walked was fragile, like a sick mother recently birthing to a child, and the way she looked at the girl's corpse was akin to the way the mother would to what was hers. She took a black tablecloth, knocking a string of bottles in process. Those bottles smashed against the other bodies. It filled the room with even more sickening reek of booze, amidst the blood.

She closed the girl's body with the skimpy tablecloth. It was all there was in the room—the girl's clothes were burnt. That was when Harry realized that he was, in fact, a wizard. He conjured a white clean sheet and offered it to her.

It was the first time she took notice of him. She didn't look at his face, simply taking off the cloth from his hand and onto the girl's body. Her cold fingers trailed the girl's face. In one quick motion, as if the touch burned her, she closed the girl's eyes.

Harry couldn't see her face, but he could hear her crying.

He felt his own throat tightening up. Involuntarily his mind tried to make sense of what happened, and therefore imagined what had happened here. The crying—her crying—echoed between the concrete walls, reek of booze hanging in the air, cruel laughter ignoring her sobs. He thought of her slow, painful death and it occurred to him that she didn't look any older than seventeen…

He opened his eyes, and gestured for the girl's spirit to come to him.

The girl's eyes widened, as well as the rest of the men in the room. Clearly they had thought that their presence was lost to Rosalie and him. Eager to part from the men who broke her, the girl staggered to him and took his hand. Even if there was no collision, no touch, he felt the coldness that came with her spirit.

"Are you certain?" Death asked, voice heavy. "The ginger, the little child, and now this. Those are three lifetimes of debts, Master."

"They all deserve a second chance."

With one swift motion, he pushed her back in.

Unbeknownst to him, Death smiled underneath its hood.


What lies beyond Death?

Out of her family, only Carlisle seemed to be able to speak of death with contemplative ease. It was natural to be terrified of death, be it the presence or simply idea of it. At the moment, she was faced with both. In a matter of minutes, she had witnessed the young girl's death, caused the same thing to happen to men who defiled her, and watched her being returned to life.

All Harry did was to touch her. Then—

Thump.

It was small, so small, but it was there. The girl in front of her was lying still, and at first she hesitated—perhaps her mind had fooled her, her ears failed her, because there was no possible scenario that the sound she had heard was the girl's heartbeat. But then she watched her closely, and saw the slight rise and fall of her chest.

Her gaze turned to him who had been watching her closely, hesitation in those green orbs. She remained unmoving, open-mouthed, as her brain attempted to process the scene before her.

His movements are sharp and quick, honed by battle experiences. The blood of the girl moved along with the motion of the wand as it traveled across the skin and left the surface unscathed. She could hear the human's bones falling back to their original position, locking themselves into wholeness again. Her weak heartbeat increased significantly until it fell to an organized rhythm.

"We have to get out of here," He muttered lowly. She didn't answer, but complied.

Rosalie lifted the girl carefully and took her into his arms. Her hand touched Harry's, interlocking their fingers. Their eyes met. She felt her breath caught in her throat—there were so many questions, so many answers needed to be spoken from either of them.

In a flash, they disappeared, leaving the motel room full of brutally murdered men.


"Is she gonna be okay?" Rosalie asked, when they were in a hospital room. The hospital records were already forged, the nurses obliviated; the girl should be able to heal fully here, fees already paid.

"Yes."

"I can't leave her yet," She said quietly.

"I know," He answered, and placed his hand on her shoulder. "We'll wait until she's conscious."

So they waited. In time, they remained silent to each other. Neither of them wanted to ask first, as such they silently came to an understanding: to wait until the minor crisis lying in front of them was averted. Five hours later, the girl awoke. Rosalie was sitting beside her, holding her hand, while Harry stood next to her. She immediately realized their presences of the room. Eyes half-opened, she asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm Harry, and this is Rosalie," He said, surprising her by telling the girl. "We saved you in that motel. Those men are dead, for which I'm not sorry at all. For this, however, I sincerely apologize. Legilimens."

Legilimency was something she dreaded the first time she read about it. It differed from Edward's gift in the way that it could travel to past thoughts. It was still less scarier than Aro's talent, but the fact that it was learnable by most competent wizards was a worrying thought. But seeing it done, watching focus disappearing in her eyes and appearing in his, wasn't as frightful as she pictured.

By the time he was done, the girl was gasping for air. "Wha—"

"Obliviate."

The spell rendered both the human and Rosalie frozen, one in daze and another in shock. It just dawned on her what he was doing; he was erasing her memories, freeing her from the experience no one should ever have—

By the time it was over and the girl was put under sleeping spell, a tear grazed Rosalie's cheek.

Harry noticed it and his eyes widened in alarm. His fingers tenderly wiped it off. He seemed confused, but obliging, shutting his mouth until she could find her voice. The two of them went to his tent in silence. The moment they were inside, the earthiness of the interior reminded her of Vera. It broke something in her. She spun in her heels, staring right into his green eyes.

"Where were you all these years?" She demanded, knowing full well how unreasonable she was being. "Why didn't I meet your kind sooner? Why does not one of my family know your existence—you—you could've done so much. Your kind could help us, could help the pain—"

Perhaps, if she had been able to simply forget, she would have found happiness long ago.

"I'm sorry," He said, looking miserable. "I'm sorry."

She let him hug her, let herself lost in the warmth of his embrace. She didn't know what he was apologizing for. None of it was his fault. None of it was even hers. The fault remained at the men she murdered decades ago. She never figured out how they did it. They took the most valuable thing she had in one night, and she had vowed to take theirs—their lives. But killing them never returned what she had lost, and somehow, as she remembered the blood in her hands, taking their lives took something important from her too.

"I had the same fate," She began, unable to bear the silence anymore. "Like her. I was raped by five men, and it nearly killed me. They took my virginity, my virtue—and one of them was even my fiancé. It was the most painful thing I've ever experienced, vampire transformation included. They took something from me I can never regain, and they left me in the streets, naked and dying."

She felt his hands trembled around her.

"A vampire happened to pass by. He turned me into one of them, adopted me into his family. He is the kindest person I've ever known, but I hated him, hated him for what he did. Those men took my virtue, and nearly took my life. But he took the life I wanted—a normal, quiet life with a small family, raising my own children—and by his decision to turn me, forced me to live an immortal life knowing what I truly want, I can never have. Even while I loved my family, and knew without becoming immortal I would never have come to know them, I hated this life. Despite that there was no joy in my human life, I've always desperately wanted to live that life."

Tears streamed down her face, but she made no move to wipe them, letting them wet his shirt.

"I killed the men that raped me. I crushed their bones and tore them a part. I remember feeling triumphant over my revenge, but ever since, I was never able to find peace. They took something from me that night. When I killed them, they took something from me again."

Her fingers gripped the collars of his shirt as if clinging to dear life. He'd been very kind to her—and maybe he could do one more kindness.

"Do the same for me," She pleaded. "Make me forget."

The look in his eyes was devastating. It burned into her. Her breath was caught in her throat for so many different reasons that she didn't know which was which anymore.

He released her. It left an emptiness between her arms, but her attention was instantly directed at the wand between her eyes. He swallowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

Her mind reeled. Flashes of images appeared and disappeared simultaneously. She felt magic accessing her neurons like blood flowing through veins. Images, places, people—Edward, Jasper, Alice, Carlisle, Esme, Vera, Henry, Royce…

Abruptly, it ended. She remained standing in the midst of confusion. She hadn't felt any different, and the memories of that night burned brightly in her mind. In front of her, Harry looked as if he hadn't slept in days. His gaze was set on the floor. "I can't."

"Why the hell not?" She urged, anger coming to her like a wave of lava. "If you start spewing off saint nonsense like memories are a part of who I am then so help me—"

"I can't do it," He repeated. "I can't find a way through your memories. They're too perfect. Humans' minds are easy to fool because the details are hazy. Yours—vampires—have too much information. It's impossible to be done."

There was no power in her to speak. The unfairness of it all slapped her harder than anything in her entire life. She had just witnessed it earlier today; the girl's memory was wiped, and the next day she would start a new life in blissful ignorance. In this life she had never been able to get what she truly wanted—she saw Vera's son and wanted the same, then the universe rid her of the ability to reproduce. She saw a girl freed by her tormenting past and wanted the same, then the universe told her that it was impossible to be done.

"I'm sorry," He whispered. Again, his arms found her and encircled her being. She was clinging to him like he was her lifeline. Perhaps, right now, he was. The only thing that reminded her of the present was the scent and warmth of his chest.

"Don't apologize for what you have no control over."

Amidst all the emotions, she knew that to be sure.

He kissed her temple, and she melted even further into him.

They remained attached to each other for the rest of the night, even when it was nearing dawn and she knew he was exhausted. They climbed to bed together. He lied down first. Then he looked at her, not expectant, not pitying. It was a gaze so intimate that made her feel so many emotions that she couldn't currently sort out. It was the look in Jasper's eyes when Alice kissed him, in Carlisle's when Esme smiled at him, in Edward's when he watched Bella. It was something she'd been searching for her entire life.

It both enthralled and frightened her. That night, she banished all restricting thoughts and crawled to the space beside him. She held on to him as he fell asleep, quietly wishing she could have done the same.

By the time he awoke, she had had a long time to clear her mind. The storm had passed and what was left was the calm ocean. All these times, all those episodes, she felt stranded in the sea. Lost and alone.

The moment he opened his eyes and met her gaze, she knew then. She'd finally found her anchor.

"Sleep well?" She asked.

"Best one in years. We should make a habit out of it," He smiled broadly, but then his grin faltered. "How are you feeling?"

"Better, really. Significantly better."

Then the usual morning routine played. It was what she needed—consistency, something that fit into a pattern. Everything became extra ordinary after she met him; a state of normalcy was eagerly welcomed. Adding to that point, she loved watching him cook. The current breakfast menu was apparently pancakes and champagne bottle filled with dragon's blood. Next to it, stood a glass of actual wine.

Harry raised his glass of wine and clinked it with hers.

Consuming blood for which she didn't kill caused a different effect. There was power, there was life in the liquid that she drank. But the knowledge that she wasn't the one that spilled its blood made her feel less predatory than usual. It made her feel almost human.

"Rosalie," He called her name, when night descended again. They were sitting comfortably, snuggled against each other in front of the fireplace. "I've been thinking."

"What?"

"You told me there was no joy in your human life," He said quietly. "Do you really think that?"

"Yes," She answered. "I can't think of any joy to reminisce. Everything good in my life came after I was turned."

"What about from the time you were growing up? Do you remember positive emotions from then?"

"My childhood was alright—"

"Don't paint me a picture of your childhood," He said patiently. "Just remember what you felt back then and tell me."

And she tried. But her attempts were futile; she remembered the events that happened, but to remember what she felt was rather difficult. There was a memory of her father returning home and she ran across the room to hug him. She was happy then.

But happy came into her mind because it was a sensible emotion to feel at the situation. She had to analyze the past to guess what kind of emotion affected her back then. She couldn't actually remember the feeling.

"I can't," She whispered. "I can't remember how I felt."

There was silence. And then, she asked, "You said to me that what makes human human is their emotion. If I can't remember what it felt to be human then—"

"Stop," Harry interrupted her. "There's something I have to try."

He pulled out his wand. He didn't direct it at her, but to the air. She watched him closely, inspecting the wave emotions that showed in his face. At first his expression was of immense focus, and then of serenity, until finally happiness.

"Expecto Patronum."

A silver burst of light emitted from the tip of his wand. It shot like a jet through the room, circling the two of them, as it morphed into the shape of stag. The silver form stopped moving behind the couch, just inside the two's reach.

"Familiar with Patronus?"

"In theory, yes. In practice, this is obviously the first time."

He snorted, but she ignored him. The stag was incredibly beautiful; it was rare for her to admire something entirely for its beauty, but peace and good seemed to radiate from the ethereal form.

"Patronus is the embodiment of one's most powerful positive emotion," Harry said gently. "You have to able to recall your happiest memory and poured it into the spell."

She turned to him. "What did you think of?"

"My last night with Ron and Hermione," He smiled ruefully. "But that's not what matters now. Touch the patronus."

In response, she raised her eyebrows. "Touch the patronus?"

"Touch the patronus."

Hesitantly, she raised her right hand in let her fingers touched the stag.

"You did it, honey, you did it! Lillian—you have to see this! Little Rose is dancing!"

"Rosalie, meet your new brother. His name is Joseph."

Tiny hands encircled her own.

"He's cute, Papa."

Her mother smiling, more genuine than she could ever remember.

"Oh, Rosalie. You look so beautiful, dear. You're my pride and joy."

A tear fell.

"You're an adult now. Soon you'll be married… Oh, Rosalie."

"We've been thinking about this," Vera began, as her husband the carpenter sat by her. "We want you to be the godmother."

Little Henry watching her, smiling, full cheeks forming one-sided tiny dimple.

"It's really quite fascinating. Streptomycin grissel is a type of fungus discovered by Selman Abraham Waksman, which—"

"Yeah, Carlisle, I couldn't care less."

A string of happy orphans, cheering at the sight of her and Esme.

Watching the sun rise alone with Edward, drown in comfortable silence.

Alice beaming at her, so genuine that it was impossible not to return the sentiment.

"I feel what you feel, remember?" Jasper said. "And for the record, I do think the moon's beautiful too."

Rosalie snorted. "Stop acting like you're a mind-reader."

"What, you think that beauty cannot be felt?" Jasper grinned. "I don't need to hear your thoughts to know what you're thinking. Feelings speak louder than thoughts."

Feelings speak louder than thoughts.

Her eyes blinked profusely, trying to contemplate her surroundings. Her vision was blurry—was there a negative effect on vampires? But then she felt the wetness on her cheeks and realized she was crying.

With a single spell and a single touch, she was drowned in the sea of emotions that she thought she could no longer feel. Memories she thought she no longer possessed. They burst inside of her, like a firework in her chest. When it was over, and she was still trying to process it all in the middle of confusion, her eyes caught his. At that moment, she didn't think she had ever loved anyone more, Edward included.

"I didn't know…" She started, but her speech was lost. "How..?"

"I've said it before, and I'll say it again for as many times as I need to," He told her, eyes full of quiet fondness and understanding. "You're so, so much more human than you think."

And she leaned in, captured his lips. The emotions from his Patronus hadn't left her, but she didn't care enough to differentiate which action caused which emotion. All she knew at that moment was that she was the happiest she had ever been in her whole existence, simply by a spell and a kiss.

"Thank you," She breathed, feeling light, levitated.

"If you're doing this out of gratitude—"

She shut him up with another kiss, and this time, he obliged entirely. Warmth traveled throughout her body, across the surfaces of her skin, through the streams of her veins. It was at that very moment when she realized Edward was never meant for her; the two of them carried the same hatred, creating a connection that destroyed them both further. What she needed was this, warmth to her coldness, sun to her ocean. Harry—the young man that could remain good even after all he'd been through. The one that had lost so much and thus understood her, the one that was so kind and thus able to show her what it felt to be alive. What it felt to be human.

As his lips moved softly against hers, his hands encircling her form, she knew precisely.

She was human.


The sky was grey, but calm. It held nothing in its vastness, only endless freedom and possibilities. A stark contrast with Death standing tall, chaining Harry to earth.

"I am surprised, Master, by your choice to save the girl."

"I'm not. Human nature. Perhaps one day you'll learn."

He could've sworn he saw Death smiled.

"Perhaps."

Silence grew, ringing in his ears, echoing in his head.

"And perhaps I am not clear with what would become of your Fate if your debt turns out to be unpaid," Death spoke. There was controlled rage in its voice, creaking like the Gates of Hell. "You will be mine for eternity. You will never be free. You will never see your loved ones anymore, not even in your sleep."

He knew. There was a reason why he was terrified.

"Frankly, Master, your disregard of your own soul is rather insulting."

Harry closed his eyes. "Had you been human—"

"Before I let you continue your speech, it is best that you know that I am incapable of imagining myself as such."

His eyes snapped open and stared right into a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Then you will never understand," He answered sharply. "There is nothing I can say to you that will make change that. So I will say this not to gain your understanding or agreement or even acceptance: I am, first and foremost, human. And if humanity offends you, then you better be prepared, because I'm not the only one in this world fighting for life. All around the world, humans sacrifice a part of themselves to make others whole. I am not the first, and I will not be the last."

Void of silence stretched in between them, only shattered by the sound of his heartbeat. The gaze of Death was colder than ice, but Harry remained standing, looking back defiantly.

"Those around the world do so for their loved ones," Death retaliated, almost softly. "Not strangers."

George's blue eyes, hollow and lifeless.

The frail body of a child, bloody and broken beyond repair.

A girl no older than seventeen, naked and unmoving, trace of tears in her cheeks.

"I chose what is right, not what is easy."

And he left. Rather, Death let him go. The sky above him crumbled, but Harry felt no fear as he fell along with the earth and ultimately, back to his consciousness.

Deep inside his mind, where only Death could hear and be heard, he spoke.

"One passed. Two more remain."


"What happens now?"

Her voice was as clear as bells, as soft as silk. It still astonished him just how much the way she regarded him had changed—from apparent animosity, reluctance, approving, accusing and finally to this. No one had ever looked at him that way. It wasn't fanaticism, for he'd had plenty of that and hated it. She didn't look at him like he had saved the world; she looked at him like he had saved hers.

It was a very abrupt change. He was mostly confused by it—but he didn't want it to stop either.

"What do you want?"

She leaned and gave him a slow kiss, which he accepted gladly.

"This isn't just a fling for me," He whispered against her lips.

Her features tensed at his words. Promptly she relented from him, although she stayed seated on the bed. Her reply was barely audible to his ears, "Don't say that."

She was staring fully at him now, golden eyes piercing his chest, as if she couldn't decide if she loved him or hated him.

He swallowed the tightness in his throat and leaned in. Almost instinctively, she moved away. For a while, all they did was to look into each other. He didn't know what she found in his eyes, but what he found in hers were fear and hesitation.

"Is it? For you?" He asked, voice slightly rising.

There was no answer. Usually he welcomed silence; he loved it in the world in which too much was being spoken. But the absence of her words was numbing, like ice slowly melting on his skin.

"I almost left, last night."

He hadn't seen her so torn before. Gently, he replied, "But you didn't."

"But I didn't," She agreed. "Do you know why I stayed?"

"Do you?"

"No," She admitted. "Nothing about this makes sense."

"Does it have to?"

Her eyes bore into him, full of uncertainty and surprise.

"Why does everything have to be logical for you?" He asked. He didn't like the desperation in his voice, but he continued. "This—whatever this is—is completely nonsensical, but don't you see? All the best thing in life is."

The corner of her lips quirked up, and he found himself doing the same.

"You always have ways with words," She conceded, the look in her face almost fond. "But it doesn't change the fact that you're still human. You age, and I remain—"

"I don't."

She stared. "What?"

"I'm immortal," Harry started, and as her eyes grew round, he placed his fingers on her lips. "I am. I'm not joking. I don't age, and I can't be killed—by conventional means. It has something to do with the triangle mark you asked, the resurrection of the girl, my speed—"

And again, she kissed him. This time it was barely three seconds, but it succeeded to distract him.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," She said. "And you don't want to. Or at least not ready."

He stared at her as if she grew another head.

"Don't you want to know?"

"Of course I do," She countered at once. "What you did completely cross the boundary of what magic can do. Whatever it was, it was something out of this world. You're different from the rest of them. But that I already knew the first time I met you."

She smiled at him a little, and he found himself automatically doing the same.

"We promised, after all. Childhood. Lovers. Secrets. Sins. If you want to tell me, then you'll tell me. I won't ask."

And so Harry kissed her deeply, because he was frightened to his core and he couldn't tell her yet.

"Another time," He promised.


Nights and days had come and gone, and it was time for them to leave the muggle life of New York. The decision to visit the wizarding world of the United States started off as a joke, but then Harry remembered that the author of a favorite book of his, Newton Scamander, began his journey at the city. And thus the compass of their travel pointed to Woolworth Building, Manhattan, New York.

As usual, there wasn't much preparation needed. In the morning after he awoke, Harry cleansed himself in the bath while Rosalie attempted to cook his breakfast. For someone who had no idea what food was supposed to taste that, Harry supposed it was pretty good. When he voiced this, Rosalie seemed indignant. She spent the whole car ride memorizing his cook book.

She did put her book down when they needed to stop. He stopped the car rather harshly, and smiled weakly under her glare. It immediately melted once she glanced at the church before them.

"Is she inside?" Harry asked, leaning into the windshield.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes. The others have gone home, it seems."

It started raining. Harry cast Impervius Charm at him and Rosalie, rendering them waterproof. The two of them made their way inside. The moment they were, however, Harry was amazed by how disconnected it felt from the outside world. The light was dim, the room huge, a grand cross at the back. Little sound made its way to the interior; they could barely hear the rain.

In front of the cross, standing on her knees, was the girl they had saved days prior.

When he used Legilimency on her, he'd gained information about her, including where she would be on Sunday morning. When he revealed this to Rosalie, she insisted on checking on the girl before they left the town.

Thus Harry and Rosalie stood near the entrance, watching the young girl perform her prayer. They didn't say anything to each other. Both were absorbed in their own minds, and for Harry it was wondering how on earth some men could be so low to hurt this innocent soul for fleeting pleasure.

As she was done and reached for the door, Harry and Rosalie watched her passed by, no recognition sparking in the girl's brown eyes.

Harry strolled to the front. Rosalie followed. Somehow, only his footsteps echoed in the enormous chamber. When he finally reached the cross, he paused, tilting his head in mild interest.

"What's on your mind?" Rosalie inquired.

Harry gave her a half-smile. "I've never been in a church before. It's a bit strange."

"My blood family was religious, so as a human, I spent every Sunday in a church."

Harry turned to her, surprised. "You believe in god?"

She shrugged, elegance in the motion. "I believe in higher power."

"Is it just you or do vampires usually believe in higher power?"

She paused. "Actually, I only know one other vampire that believes the same thing. The only one in my family. He's a doctor, so—"

"A vampire doctor?"

A fond smile graced her expression. "Extraordinary, isn't it? He was born into a family of devoted Christians that hunted our kind. Even after becoming what his family was out to kill, he carried that faith with him."

This revelation warmed his chest. His last words to Death resounded inside his head, ringing in conviction now that he knew it to be true.

All around the world, humans sacrifice a part of themselves to make others whole.

It brought a broad smile to his face. His eyes met with Rosalie. When Rosalie raised her eyebrows, he merely shook his head, still grinning from ear-to-ear.

"You mentioned your family?"

"Yes. I left, but it's not permanent. I promised to return. They're all… waiting for me."

He softened. "Are you all close?"

"The closest possible for me," She told him, a hint of longing in her voice. "The doctor, Carlisle, lead the coven. At first it was only him and Edward—"

"Wait," He interrupted. "Carlisle? Carlisle Cullen?"

She turned surprised. "You've heard of him?"

"How do you know him?" He pressed, excitement lighting his features.

"He's the one that turned me. My father, in a sense. Why?"


WATCH THE VIDEO OF ROSALIE AND HARRY (in case you missed it):

/watch?v=utOm8BseDok (put that behind youtube usual link, because fanfictionnet won't let me post links)

or if it's too much of a mouthful to type, then just go to (youtube link ) / user / flarsanzian (it's the latest video I posted)

Really, watch it. That video is inspired by this chapter, and vice-versa. I strongly believe that it will help you experience the story better.


FOR YOU MY OLD READERS, from now on, you can finally review! We've passed the last six chapters!


Before you scream at me claiming that this is too soon - they had been exposed to each other every day for over a month. Besides; QUALITY over QUANTITY of interaction.

AND it isn't the ending folks - this isn't the end game. We've barely just begun!

ALSO I've added a bit to the Death and Harry conversation in chapter 1. It clears their ordeals a little. If any of you have questions regarding the whole Harry as MoD and why Harry feared he might not get to be in afterlife, just ask in your review. Or PM me. Either way, I'm happy to answer!


Song Quoted in This Chapter [MUSE]

High Highs - A Real Hero (College ft. Electric Youth cover. It's the one I used in the video; it's my number one muse. Listen to it. Seriously)


ALSO: LOOKING FOR A BETA

I need a beta to edit the grammar, diction, sentence flow mistakes or anything technical. I'm not requiring the beta to help me with plot and characterization, since that tends to prolong the gap between updates, but criticism regarding those points are always welcome. I will be using e-mails, so I need someone that is comfortable enough to give me their e-mail address. If any of you is interested, PM me. Thanks!


Anything you want to ask, just review! I'll be glad to answer. I'm open to constructive criticism as it helps me get better. Feedback is always welcome! Hate it, love it, REVIEW! Reviews are good.


I'm sorry to announce that I will be taking a month hiatus for college-related research in a secluded island. The next update will be no sooner than 14 August.