It's been a hellva long while but . . .

Well, hello! And Welcome to My Little World of Weirdness!

I state for the record that, despite the fact I really, really wish I did, I don't own any of the official characters that will grace this story; it's all CLAMP's! Always has been, always will be! I *DO*, however, own Marcibay Hilligans and Hei-ying Reed!! I also own Lord Maduokai, and the three of the dragons, T'listia isn't mine but on loan from one of my favourite reviewers and writers, Tam Chronin! And what the heck . . . I own both of the mansions (The Reed/Hiirawagizawa and the Tsukimine) as well! [Laughs] Also I don't pretend to have any Mastery over the language of Japanese or any clue as to correct grammatical structure. I put it in and hope it gets across the point I'm trying to make! And I don't pretend to be able to write any sort of accents so please don't hate me!

I should probably make this very clear, this is the unplanned sequel (well, it's planned, but I wasn't intending to write it until it came sneaking up and bit my muse Brian in the ass) to In This Tainted Soul . . . There Lies Hope, and its prequel, In This Tainted Soul. . . basically this means, you get a whole new story that's linked to two seriously long stories. I've tried to tastefully info-dump all you really need to know, but to really get a feel for some of the characters . . . particularly the now grown up card-captors, but I assure you their attitudes haven't changed that much . . . 

Also this story is gonna have some pretty strong language, and some scenes of Yaoi or lemon, whatever the right term is. . . [I'm a old hack now, and I still don't know – been writing for nearly two years now! And proud of it!] Anyway, several pairs of *guys* will be getting it on, now . . . if you don't agree with such a thing, or find it utterly offensive, or even are immature and/or stupid enough to ignore THIS WARNING about it and then go on to flame me about it later then . . . what are you still doing here?! You've got free will, use it! Go read something that you won't find offensive and let the rest of us enjoy my weird and gender-not-restricting world of love! Or . . . give it a try . . . [winks] Hee, hee . . . you might like it!

"Speaking"

*Stress/emphasis*

//Thinking//

Extended~ [basically odd letters that the characters extend the sound of or in Ruby's case, sings]

In This Tainted Soul . . . Find Redemption . . . 

By Dr Megalomania.

~Prologue~

****IN THE NOW****

He landed heavily.

The flight had been long, and arduous upon his torn wings.

He steadied himself as best he could, his breath coming hard and shallow. He felt pain in wounds old and new, his weak body screaming fury against the exhaustion. Just a little further . . .

Blindly, he groped as the harsh wind blew unrelenting snow into his face. "Where are you . . .?" He ground out, old habits now resurfacing. Looking through some familiar windows, he saw warmth and security, but not the kind he searched for. He was weak and tired, begging for release from consciousness. In the window of one, he saw a small blonde boy; now at least twice as old as the last time he'd stood on the rooftop. His vision faded, shaken, unfocused. It threatened to topple him, //NO!!// he screamed mentally. Unfocused jade eyes closed briefly as he gathered his resolve. //I want to sleep, I want rest . . .//

Panting, and dropping to a badly bruised knee, he gathered his strength again. He clutched his bleeding shoulder, trying to focus on the small house that was his safe goal. He could see the light from it spill out like a warm blanket. So close was he, and yet his body wanted nothing more than to lie in the freezing snow and die. 

He whimpered, spreading dirty white feathers once more. He struggled to fly to the next roof, pain trying to drag him down into the snow. So close, he was almost there, so close, he was almost there, so close, he was almost there . . . it became his life sustaining mantra, so close, almost there, close, almost, so, there . . .

The snow crunched under him as he made the distance to the next roof. His safe haven was one more jumped roof, a few more steps away, he could make it . . . he could—

Pain ripped through him as he felt dark magic strain to pull him back. It whispered of soothing remedy to his anguish, but also of unspeakable fatality if he should continue. He shuddered, and ground out a weak prayer.

" . . . Yue . . ."

He panted, whimpered, the name of his brother slipping out as a whisper. A warm heady rush of magic, a different kind of magic drew him like a beacon of light. It was so warm, and he was so close . . . almost there . . . so close, almost there . . .

The safe haven was protected by a powerful magic, and he was almost there. Almost drunken with the potent enchantment, he swayed and fell from the roof, landing hard on his bleeding shoulder. The snow that looked so soft, failed to catch him. He lay there for a moment, alone, crying out as hot tears prickled at his bloodshot eyes.

He couldn't give up . . . not when he was so close to harbour.

He rolled from his side to his front and shuffled until he was on his hands and knees. Taking a few deep breaths, he crawled as best he could. Slowly, painfully, he tried to lift his head for long enough. The gate to his haven was just before him. He paused, summoning his strength again. Damned he would be, if he crawled on hand and knee though that gate. His dignity demanded it, as a creation of Clow Reed. Clow Reed, the Master Magician. The creator of the Clow Cards. He swore quietly, as he dragged his weary body up, trying his hardest to stand tall and walk.

He could barely lift his feet, his spine screamed, and he whimpered with every breath he took.

He wished, and almost prayed that someone would come out of the house and take the burden of movement away from him. So close now . . . he wrapped a hand around the cold metal bars of the gate to swing it open. The Christmas laurel that hung there merrily pricked his skin, almost forbidding him to enter. He pushed again, and the gate swung open.

"Please . . ."

He couldn't call out any louder, his weak body failed him, his dirty, soiled wings began to constrict about his body, trying to protect him from the freezing cold, trying to usher him gently back to death's waiting arms. Stumbling, he fell forward again, the snow raw and unforgiving as it bit into his palms. He crawled like some demented child, whimpering, crying. He could hear laughter from within, and he was almost within the warm light that promised sweetly of safety. His relief became so profound, his body began to shake and tremble uncontrollably, and he was a breath's distance away from heaven.

"Somebody . . ."

The very last of his strength finally gave out, as he reached forward to touch the porch's step. "Somebody please . . . Save me . . ."

Bloodshot jade eyes fluttered shut . . .

. . . Dirty white-feathered wings stilled . . .

. . . pale lips parted . . .

. . . and one last breath escaped.

In This Tainted Soul . . .