Disclaimer: Sadly (T_T), I do not own Card Captor Sakura or any of its characters, demo, I do own Emerald Star. Also, Hei-ying is the property of the great Doctor Megalomania. Dr M-sama was kind enough to let me use Hei-ying in my fic! ^___^ If you wish to use any of them, ask me first in your review or email me at darkrubymoon@hotmail.com. And ask Doctor Megalomania for her permission of using Hei-ying if you wish to do so.

Note: For those of you with uneasy stomachs, I suggest you leave before continuing down to the beginning of this fanfiction. This story is for mature audiences only, so I warn you once more, if you have an uneasy stomach, please close out of this fanfiction. I am not responsible if any part of this fanfiction causes you to become nauseous with sickness. For the rest of you in the audience, please continue down to the story. I hope you enjoy it immensely.

*Stress/Emphasizing*

-Thoughts-

"Speaking"

The shadow of a flame flickered wildly off the dark walls of the room. A soft wind rolled in from the vast sea and came in. The dark curtains on either side of the open window flowed in the air, as if ghosts were dancing underneath it. In the nearby mountains, the lone cry of a wolf was carried off among the thick and overgrown forest.

A series of balls of light suddenly appeared on the dark water. These balls of light came onto the shore and raced for the mainland, only to fade from existence as cries of agony and mercy fell onto deaf ears. Fresh, rich red blood caked the pale sands of the beach. Body parts were strewn around for miles. Bloody corpses decorated the ground near the edge of the waves, some being swept into sea. One corpse continued moaning, missing the right arm and both legs. It became silent as blood spurted out from it, and in the dense moonlight the flash of a blade swept through the neck of what apparently seemed to be the leader of the gang. The severed head rolled off a few feet away from its owner as the lifeless body lay on the ground, blood pouring from its neck.

The owner of the blade put two fingers to his lips, licking off the blood slowly. He then whistled sharply, turning as he heard the sound of barking. Without a word, he watched as the pack of wolves he called began to gorge on the remains of the gang. He cleaned the blade of his sword with his tongue, inhaling the smell of slaughtered blood.

The wind carried off the scent of blood, taking it through the forests and fields, up the mountains and into the mouths of caves and dens. It wafted into the room, going past the flickering flame. The flame rose up high and became thin for a few moments. Then, with one motion, it was gone. The room was cast into darkness, yet only the pale light of the full moon lighted a portion of the area near the window.

The figure seemed to appear from the darkness as he walked in, long hair flowing behind him. His sword was at his side, encased in its sheath. He stopped short of where the moonlight began, lifting his head to the single star in the night sky. The eyes of the figure glinted dangerously, the cloak he wore swirling around him slowly. Every angle of the cloak was covered in blood and illuminated by the moon. Some spots were still wet, while other spots were completely or semi-dry.

Silent, unheard words were in the air as his mouth moved slowly. No sound came out. He then stopped as the air around him sparkled dimly, and then the cloak was pooled around his feet. The eyes were closed, yet it was as if he knew what were to happen, for he put his right hand out in front of him.

A twist of black light formed above the palm of his hand. Slowly, tendrils began to make their way up his arm and down his neck and shoulders; it twisted around his legs securely. They surrounded his neck and crept up the sides of his face.

His eyes suddenly shot open, and a dark light engulfed his being. When it died down, he was nowhere to be seen...