Pale slices of moonlight cut through the tiny cracks in the ceiling. They penetrated into the shadowed room below; faintly illuminating the dark council being held within. Dozens of shadowed figures lined the walls. There was no light but that faint rays of moonlight but the figures within needed nothing more than that. Rustling noises filled the silence as the figures shifted, their eyes glinted when they were touched by the pale light. Tension was so thick in the air it would have been hard to breathe. That is, if any of the figures had felt the need. Slowly, one of the shadows broke away and moved to the center of the room. Instantly all of the rustling stopped as that shadow became the sole focus of those in the room. The hooded figure halted in one of the moonlit patches on the ground and drew back its hood.
Her hair shone raven black in the darkness and her skin was ghostly pale as the moonlight caressed her face and her eyes seemed to glow with their own inner fire. Outwardly she appeared to be a child, barely more then seventeen but those who dared to look into her eyes knew different. Her eyes told a story thousands of years long, they spoke of an age and power that was rivaled by few among them. Slowly she spun, taking in and capturing the attention of everyone in the room. Those who dared to meet her eyes quickly looked away, intimidated and fearful of what they saw in them.
Her voice, silken and lilting shattered the strained silence. It rolled into the entire room and filled even the darkest corners with its dark beauty.
"My people," The girl paused and glanced again at the others. "I call to order this council."
"We meet here under a matter of great importance. This is the first council that has been called a thousand of years and I assure you we do not gather here for a mere triviality. I have gathered the council to discuss the future survival of our very race." Again the child scanned the faces of the shadowy figures. Finding no challenge to her authority she removed a small manuscript from her robe and threw it down on the floor. Small flurries of dust swirled in the air above the paper then began to settle once again. A large dust bundle hung suspended in the air for just a moment longer before settling over the title on the manuscript. "Forever Knight."
"This is proof of their existence. The existence of the Writers. This manuscript details the saga of a vampire named Nicholas Knight, a vampire that was created to entertain creatures from another world but was cast aside to live forever in a delicate balance between life and death. As each and every one of us was created and placed in this world to serve our purpose in a small story for the amusement of these strange creatures. They toy with us. They use us, place us in this world and then cast us aside as mere filler or bit characters. No longer must our great people suffer this injustice, we will not stand for being mere characters that can be molded and toyed with at will! We will expose them, we will break their power over us and all who live here will be free to play any part we desire!"
The small girl glanced around the room one more time before reaching her hand back into her robe. She pulled out a small round mirror, slightly tattered. She gently wiped her hands along the glass, removing the lint and dust. The girl held the mirror up to her face but instead of seeing her white, hard features, she saw a small girl, about 17, wearing superman pajamas and a fleece jacket typing away at a computer. The ancient child walked over to the nearest figure and held the mirror up to its face. Reflected in the glass was a slightly older gentleman in just boxers bent over a small typewriter. The raven-haired girl continued to walk around the circle, showing everyone what appeared in the mirror. Then she sauntered back to the center of the room.
"Now you see. The mirrors reveal our the true forms of our Writers and through these windows into their world we can face or creators and break their hold. We are the created but soon we shall be liberated. If we can all face our creators and shatter their hold then we will be free to choose our own destiny."
The girl focused on the small mirror again then she raised her arm and broke the mirror in a shower of razor sharp fragments. All at once the small girl gasped and fell to her knees. Her outline seemed to waver then sharpen again, then she jumped up and did a handstand. Something completely unexpected from some such a somber looking person yet she did it anyway. The small figure righted herself, fixed her skirts and called out.
"I broke character! It can be done, I am FREE!!!"
A cheer rose from the assembled figures. The time for liberation was at hand.
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Far off, in another world, in a small room in a dim basement sat a small girl. She was only about 17 years of age, wearing superman pajamas and a fleece jacket. The girl was frantically pushing the backspace button on her computer but to no avail. This was supposed to be a care-free fanfic about what happened to Nick after Last Knight. Nothing like this was supposed to happen, yet the disastrous words had been spoken and the unspeakable act had been done. The fan fiction world as we know it was in jeopardy. If all the characters managed to break free then there could never be anymore fan fiction. Authors would no longer be able to bend or create new characters for stories. Something had to be done.
The girl took a long sip of her Gatorade, tightened her ponytail and frantically started typing. Abandoning all sense and writing skills to the pull of necessity. There were only six characters she knew that could stop the Liberation and she needed them together now!