Chickahominy Creek

Of All Possible Worlds

Chapter 4: The Demon From the Feudal Era

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. I hold no rights to the anime/manga whatsoever.

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Soshiro flashed his badge at the officer standing next to the door of the theatre and moved through the double glass doors without so much as a backward glance, feeling the eyes of the guard following him as he moved away. A smile tugged at his lips. It was a common reaction that he got from any authority. Despite his rank, Soshiro was dressed in a pair of wrinkled khaki pants and white shirt, untucked and lacking a tie. He hadn't bothered to change back into uniform and running a comb through his mussed hair would have been a waste of effort. Judging by his fellow officer's silent assessment, he was sure that he came off looking like some high school punk off the street. But it was comfortable.

He spared small attention to the poster on the wall as he moved toward the double doors at the end of the hall. It advertised the night's attraction. "The Fairy Queen, A Ballet in Two Acts," was plastered across the front in bold red letters above an illustration of a small winged creature perched on top of a rose.

Other officers in blue uniforms swarmed the entrance hall, most of them trying to get a rather shocked crowed of people outside. There was a dull roar coming from the crowd, voices raised in anxiousness and fright. Soshiro glanced again at the report Reia had handed to him before leaving the office just a little after seven o'clock and shook his head. These people had picked the wrong night to see a show. And he'd picked a bad night to be on active duty—not that it really mattered. The office had his home phone anyway.

The door opposite the stream of visitors was propped open and Soshiro moved through it and toward the stage. Although the theatre didn't look like much from the street, the inside was the perfect rendition of an Italian opera house. A huge domed ceiling supported by roman columns towered overhead. The seating on the ground followed the shape of the dome, circling around the stage. From the ground floor was latticed balcony after balcony, almost touching the roof. Statues of angels perched on the columns next to the second story on each side, wings spread with trumpets held aloft, as if announcing the beginning of a performance. It was a striking scene, dizzying in its presentation and built to send any sound from the stage echoing throughout the chamber. The houselights were dimmed; most of the light came from the stage, which was encircled with florescent yellow tape.

Most of the forensic specialists had left, so Soshiro had a good view of what had sent everyone lacking a police badge out of the theatre. He took a deep breath, and then another as he approached the stage.

The girl resting on the floor hadn't been moved. Her willowy limbs were still twisted at jagged angles, just as she had fallen. Hair the color harvest wheat fanned out around her, pillowing a pale face that lacked any semblance of life. No one had closed the girl's eyes yet, leaving the whites to stare up at the ceiling. Blood trickled from her open mouth, pooling on the lacquered wood beneath her.

Soshiro clenched his teeth, the images of two other victims immediately emerging from his memory of a few hours before. And there was that feeling again, that left over residue that made him want to choke. Two cases in less than twenty-four hours with similar victims—it sent shivers down his spine just thinking about it.

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't even see a man coming up behind him. "Not very pretty is it?" Soshiro jumped at the voice and whipped around, but immediately relaxed once the man walked up beside him.

"Don't do that, Tanaku! I have enough to set my skin crawling without people sneaking up on me." The other man smirked, but his slightly glazed black eyes stayed locked on the girl. Police Commissioner Toro Tanaku was the most senior man on the force, old enough to be Soshiro's father, but still reluctant to retire. He didn't usually come out to investigation sites and despite the air of calm the man was exuding, that thought alone was enough to make Soshiro's mind race.

"She was one of the dancers?" said Soshiro, his voice quiet. Of course she was one of the dancers.

The commissioner nodded. "Shizura Himiko. According to the accounts, she was in the middle of her solo routine when she suddenly stopped. She started swatting at something, clawing at her head, gave one shout, and collapsed. She was dead before she hit the floor. The paramedics have already been by. It's not official, but whatever killed her wasn't medical. There aren't any prints." Tanaku paused and turned to face Soshiro. He leaned in, his eyes darting around them to make sure that no one else overheard their conversation. "You feel something don't you? It's the same as the site earlier?"

Soshiro appreciated the discreetness. Soshiro was one of those people that most of the population considered—odd. He had been born with the ability to see auras, of course, as a child he didn't know what the shadowy images were. The pale, colorful lights that hovered around people had overjoyed him at first, and he would point, telling anyone willing to listen about the pretty lights. His parents indulged him for a while, but once they started to shun him for it, he shut up. For years, he never told a single soul. Not until he was twenty.

He had been a student at Tokyo University during the time when Jin Koni, a suspected thief, had been caught and brought into custody. Unfortunately, the police hadn't been able to get a confession out of him, which is why Reia had come knocking on his apartment door at seven in the morning, dragging him out of bed. He still remembered her exact words. "Ichigumo-san, your gift is needed, please come with me." She hadn't even asked if he was Ichigumo. There had been no doubt in her voice or any trace of a request, though she had been polite. She had simply grabbed his hand, pulled him out of his apartment, and led him to her car. Later, Soshiro learned that although Reia had no abilities of her own, she was able to feel everyone else's and track down anyone with a trace "oddity." She couldn't detect shifts in power, only sense it presence.

The most obvious use for Soshiro's abilities was detecting a lie, which was extremely simple. A person's aura changed when they lie, sometimes in shape, sometimes becoming a darker version of its original shade. An aura, he had learned, was a reflection of the soul and a person's true feelings. A body was merely a shell, used to either express or mask the movement of what was inside. When Reia had put him before Jin Koni, Soshiro knew immediately that the man wasn't telling the truth. The color of his soul, a hazy yellow, darkened several hues when he was asked any question pertaining to the case. Soshiro joined the force a week later. That had been three years ago.

In this case, however, he was looking for a trace, a residual footprint of the soul that murdered the girl at his feet. A bit different from working with a live person because the presence lacked the strength it wielded within the actual being. With a living person, it was like turning on a switch. When he wanted to see an aura, he switched his focus and looked, but with the dead—it required more concentration and energy. It was like the difference between following an actual person and following a set of footprints on a dark night.

Soshiro knelt down beside the girl and leaned over, placing his hand above her, hesitating just a few centimeters from her forehead.

"Go ahead," Tanaku said softly behind him. "The forensic specialists have already been and gone. You can not destroy any evidence by touching her now."

Soshiro nodded and let his hand fall. He reached for the last traces of the aura he had sensed earlier. The process was a bit like probing a marsh for sinkholes with a stick. He felt around for fragments of sensation until he found a soft spot. The difference was that instead of treading on solid ground, Soshiro would have to dive into the cracks.

Except that finding those traces wouldn't be hard this time. He should have had to differentiate between the girl's aura and whatever else was lying over her prone body, but he didn't. There was nothing left of her aura at all, and it was the strangest sensation against his hand. It was like reaching out and touching ice and it made him shudder. Tiny pinpricks of—something—were igniting the nerves within his fingers, sucking him in. Soshiro ignored it. He had to find those last few traces—there!

Without hesitation, he shoved his consciousness forward, focusing on the spot. He nearly screamed. The pinpricks that had been present before intensified. No longer were tiny sensations pulling at his hand, it was a black hole trying to suck him in. Not so sure that he wanted to be so close anymore, Soshiro tried to pull himself back, but apparently, the residue wanted more than just the girl's soul. It wanted his.

The world around him dropped away and black crept in from the corner of his eyes. With horror, Soshiro realized that the blobs of energy were taking form. Dark claws reached upward from the girl's body, grabbing his arm and raking steel across his skin. Pain lanced through the limb, jumping from nerve to nerve. Soshiro threw up mental barriers, feeling the power lacing through his system. It slammed against the wall of his mind, pounding and scrapping to get in. He could feel his defenses weakening as if they were nothing more than a sheet of rice paper, the claws renting more holes with each stroke. Each powerful blow jerked his body with its force.

Somewhere within his consciousness, he could hear someone screaming. Cries of pain that could only come from a person being tortured, condemned to the racks. They were horrible and deep. They were coming from him. He could barely recognize his own voice.

Soshiro felt arms come around him, hands locking onto his wrist and suddenly, he was being hauled backwards across the stage. When he opened his eyes, there were several blurry faces staring down at him in concern. Someone at his back supported him from behind, gently rubbing small circles over his scalp and making soothing noises. He lifted a shaky hand and rubbed away the tears.

"Move aside everyone. He's an epileptic—just had a seizure. Give the man some room." Tanaku. The commissioner was beside him, waving his hands at the crowd as if that simple act alone would get them to disperse.

"Are you alright, sir?" This voice came from behind him and thankfully, it was a familiar one.

"I think so, Reia," Soshiro replied, not at all surprised that his voice came out hoarse and gravelly. He inched himself upward until he was in a sitting position and then turned around to face his partner. "When did you get here?"

"About five minutes after you started screaming."

Soshiro blinked. "Five minutes."

"Yes, you were out for awhile." Tanaku knelt down beside them, his eyes darting back and forth between Soshiro and the fallen dancer. "What did you see, Soshiro?"

What did I see? "I have never encountered anything like this. It's—the girl has no aura. Not even a trace. It's like whatever got her sucked out every last drop of her soul."

"It almost had you too," Reia said quietly.

Yes, it had. Not an easy thought. It was something that he never wanted to encounter again if he could help it, but…

"Would you be able to identify the thing that did this?" Tanaku asked.

Soshiro nodded stiffly. He doubted he would be able to forget it. He wished he could, but this made three people dead in less than twenty-four hours from the same source. It was unreal, and running loose in Tokyo—just perfect… He knew exactly where he would be spending his time until all this was over. He was suddenly very glad that he kept a futon in his office closet. There were some long nights ahead of him.

"You're remaining on this case Officer Soshiro." It was a statement, not a question from Tanaku.

Soshiro huffed, tapping his fingers on the stage floor next to him. "Do you know of anyone else on the force who can track down a person who leaves no fingerprints or clues of any kind other than a garbage disposal of an aura? Of course I'm doing it! Wouldn't miss it for the world! I'll have the entire paragraph of utter nonsense for this incident on your desk tomorrow morning. It will take me that long to think of something believable." After a few hours of sleep. Assuming I can sleep after this…great.

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There is a demon in my kitchen. Drinking my tea.

That was the thought that kept playing over and over again in Kagome's mind as she watched Sesshoumaru take another hesitant sip of the oolong tea she had produced from her kitchen cabinet. The demon lord was still making an intense study of her Disney World coffee mug, holding it up to the light, turning it this way and that—with two hands. She wasn't quite sure whether it was a result of Tenseiga or something previous to his summoning, but no matter how she looked at it, the arm that Inuyasha had chopped off had regrown.

He looked out of place in the middle of the small area, standing between the microwave and the sink, dressed in familiar white and red, full armor in place. White hair nearly the same shade as his clothing fell in waves over his shoulders and along the counter he leaned against. Occasionally, rosin colored eyes would flit from the mug in his hand to Kagome, who was leaning against the opposite side of the counter.

She felt like a specimen under a microscope and hadn't moved since they entered the kitchen. Her own tea lay untouched near her hand, which was gripping the counter so hard that the knuckles were turning white. It was probably cold by now.

Sesshoumaru had been pretty much silent since they had left the balcony, which was why Kagome jumped when finally spoke. "Explain again human. Where am I?" The voice was a low tenor that still held a hint of threat. It wasn't loud, but then again, it didn't need to be.

"I've already explained it once, Sesshoumaru."

"Then explain it again human. My patience is wearing thin. I want the truth. And you will address me as Sesshoumaru-sama. You have no right to call upon me by my name alone." The demon lord set the glass back on the counter. Kagome could just see a tinge of red flickering in the depths of his eyes. His claws were extended. Although she was annoyed she wisely kept her mouth shut. Sesshoumaru continued. "What you say is impossible. You were the hanyou's mate. You died five-hundred years ago, two years before he mated Kikyou. What you have created for me, ghost miko, is an illusion, and I want out." Sesshoumaru took a step closer and held out a clawed hand for emphasis. There was a deep growl emitting from his throat and Kagome backed herself further into the woodwork. However, she was not as terrified as she probably should have been. No, instead she was angry, frustrated, and just too tired to deal with the full demon lord standing in her kitchen. With her tea.

Kagome gave an exasperated sigh. "Sesshoumaru-sama," she said, straining with the 'sama' at the end of the name, "if this is an illusion, how come I'm solid? Why were you able to touch me earlier? For that matter, what would possess me to create such an illusion and why would I choose twenty-first century Tokyo?"

The pale-haired demon took another step closer, a hair's breadth from the woman in front of him. Before Kagome could blink, a sharp, dagger-like claw was at her throat just short of drawing blood. The touch was colder than iron. She remembered those weapons, how they cut through other demons like they were nothing more than twigs. Her first instinct was to reach for something to defend herself with, but the only thing within reach was the notebook she used for story outlines. It was within arm's reach, but something told her that a piece of paper wouldn't have done much against the demon lord of west.

Not now anyway, but long ago in another's hands, a piece of paper might have done the trick. In China and Japan, it was rumored that there once existed a type of sorcery that could breathe life into paper with magic. These paper mages were expert craftsmen, using their art not only for entertainment, but in their roles as guardians as well. So sharp were their creations that they could pierce flesh with their many folds. It was told that one such mage even fought the Great Sky Dragon of China, taking it down with a pinwheel while defending a village.

Unfortunately, Kagome was no such mage. Instead, she met Sesshoumaru's eyes squarely. There was nothing else she could say or do that would make this situation any better.

"Human?" The claw floated from her throat to her cheek.

Iron bit into her flesh and she felt her skin give away. It burned going down, a startling contrast to the ice she had felt seconds before. He was almost right up against her. She could smell faint traces of cedar and pine.

With strength driven by anger and frustration she pushed as hard a she could against the demon lord's chest. Though obviously a great deal weaker than a full demon, Sesshoumaru was so startled that Kagome managed to drive him back far enough for him to loose contact with her.

Kagome had the pleasure of seeing her assailant's eyes go wide in surprise, rosin irises catching more light, his pupils becoming pinpricks in the fluorescence. "First of all, my name is Kagome! Second, I am telling the truth and I can't explain the situation any other way. Third, I am tired, I have had a long day, and I have a book signing tomorrow afternoon. I do not have the time or the patience to deal with some arrogant dog right now!" Her voice inclined with each sentence, and at the end, she found herself gasping for breath, more worn, but feeling better.

Sesshoumaru, after his initial brief surprise, reverted back to his stone cold mask, and shoved a strand of his hair back into place. "I see you shall not cooperate," he said with a nonchalance that beguiled Kagome's earlier outburst. "That is extremely unfortunate. This Sesshoumaru can see your anger. We will get nowhere tonight. If you will show me to my quarters I will rest and allow you to try again tomorrow. Perhaps then you will be more cooperative."

His quarters? Kagome thought, shocked. He did have a point though. Where in the heavens was she supposed to put him exactly? Somehow, she doubted that the couch would provide the best accommodations for the "lord."

Still in deep thought, Kagome pointed to the door on the left beyond the living room. "My room is over there and it's the only bedroom in the house, but…"

Sesshoumaru waved his hand as if to hush her and abruptly turned, striding toward the closed door. "It will have to do. If I must, I shall seek more comfortable lodgings later." He was at the door in seconds and flung it open, disappearing inside before Kagome could force a word of protest out of her mouth.

The miko stood gaping, her eyes focusing on where the demon lord had been only moments earlier. Anger rose within her chest, combining smoothly with the stress that already had her emotions running out of her control. Then, as swiftly as it came, it evaporated, leaving her body feeling weak.

She sagged against the counter. For the first time that night, she noticed depth the bone weariness that threatened to pull her beneath the boundaries of consciousness. She still had a book signing tomorrow and she needed rest to with the long lines and crazed fans that would undoubtedly swarm around her.

Sighing, she drained her cold tea and set the empty mug in the sink, promising herself that she'd clean it tomorrow. Will alone carried her across the living room and into her office where she didn't even bother turning on the light. She made her way over to the closet and pulled a futon off of the top shelf. The layers of fabric were somewhat heavy, but once on the floor, she managed to drag the material to a space next to her desk.

Kagome unfolded the futon. The sheets had never been removed and it was far too hot for a coverlet to be needed. After ridding herself of her pants and socks, she shoved the sheets aside and crawled in.

Who knows, maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and all of this will be a bad dream."

She was asleep in moments.

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Lord Sesshoumaru of the Western Lands stared at the strange room with a stony calm that belied the torrent of confusion that swamped his thoughts. The room was nothing like his quarters in the Palace of the Moon. There were no candles to light to illuminate the area, but that scarcely mattered. Moonlight filtered through the window and Sesshoumaru's demonic vision could pick out every detail as clearly as if it were daylight. Although the walls felt like wood, they were covered in a layer of white and beneath his feet was a rug that covered the whole of the room. The room was sparsely furnished: a closet in one corner, some kind of chest next to it, and another small chest next what looked like a raised futon.

Sesshoumaru moved next to the bed and placed one hand on top, his left hand, leaning into ever so slightly. When he felt it give, he slowly eased his body onto it, surprised to find that the piece of furniture was actually quite comfortable. Satisfied with the accommodations, he removed Tokajin from its customary place at his side and began shedding the outer layers of his clothing until he was stripped to the waist. When everything was folded neatly, the demon lord allowed himself the comfort of sinking into the bedding with a long sigh. Unconsciously, he flexed his left arm, the presence of the limb still strange. Somehow, in this dream world, he appeared whole, lacking the distinctive disfigurement that had marred him since that fateful battle with his younger brother.

He had to admit, his brother's wench had created a powerful illusion; he had not expected so much power. Everything felt real and there was no hint of the smells he normally associated with spell work. In fact, everything he did smell, he did not recognize. And there were so many; never had his senses been so overwhelmed by foreign and conflicting odors: sour, rancid, acerbic, warm, and spicy. It was bad enough that he could hardly breathe. In an effort to block it out, he shifted onto his side and inhaled—sweetness. Sesshoumaru wrinkled his nose.

It was not an unpleasant scent, but its power tore through his senses and invade his mind. He could recall Rin picking flowers that held a similar presence—Jasmine, she had called it—but there was a subtle difference. Jasmine, he recalled, was calming, light. This was stronger, not nearly as submissive. It took him a few seconds, but his senses settled and eventually, the scent brought calm. It blocked out many of the other offensive smells that pervaded the small space.

It's not just the smells; this is powerful magic the miko works with, the demon lord thought, recalling the events of the last couple of hours. The first thing he had seen when he opened his eyes was the wench and confusion had made him rush towards the only source of answers present. An action that ultimately led to further confusion. Sesshoumaru's brow creased in concentration as he recalled the thousands of tiny fires that danced in the distant sky, the light from tangible stars that illuminated the dark background. The light had been accompanied by a clamor the likes he had never heard. A greater din than the clash of armies.

And the wench had acted all innocent, which annoyed him even more, yet there were no outward signs of a lie. Every word escaping her mouth had been uttered without hesitation and full confidence, which meant that she was either an extremely good actress or she was telling the truth.

He refused to accept that she was telling the truth, because he knew what she said to be impossible. Humans taking over the known world—unheard of. Such weak creatures were not capable of dominance. Changing times, magic wells, reincarnations…it was all ridiculous. And yet, that train of thought led him right back to where he started.

Examining the present was leading him to a dead end and with an irritated sigh; the demon lord closed his eyes and tried to recall everything he possibly could before opening his eyes to this undoubtedly fabricated world.

Sesshoumaru could still feel the heat of battle from those final hours. The air had been thick with tension, vibrating with raw power created by a combination of the jewel, tetsuaiga and tokajin. Although it had been afternoon, the sun was swallowed up by the darkness of the moon and the ground had shaken as it was torn asunder beneath their feet.

Inuyasha had rushed passed him, Tetsuaiga raised for a strike, aiming an attack toward the heart of the green energy that was accumulating in front of them. The hanyou hadn't stood a chance. Sesshoumaru watched as his half-brother, a long time enemy, disintegrated before his eyes in a flash of light, his soul wretched from smoldering ashes.

Green light lashed out, tentacles of crackling energy defending the darkened figure of the woman within. The demon lord dodged a stinging whip that was thrown at him, weaving in and out, careful not to settle in one place. Despite his pace, however, his enemy was faster still. He let out a cry of anguish as he felt fire burn across his ankle. The pain brought him to the ground, paralyzed by the feel of boiling blood and melting flesh.

His barely caught the movement of the tentacle above him, didn't try to move away as it descended. Something told him he should move, but somehow, he knew he wouldn't be fast enough. It was best to accept death when it came.

The light flared and Sesshoumaru flinched, waiting for the pain that would inevitably come. He took a final breath…

A powerful shove slammed him into the earth and there was a cry above him, high and piercing. Something landed on tip of him, pinning him to the ground. Hands clasped his shoulders beneath his armor squeezing tightly to the point of trembling.

When Sesshoumaru opened his eyes, he found a pair of familiar face near his, feminine and pale as the moon, waning and scrunched with pain. A cascade of black hair fell around him like a starless sky, hiding the rest of the world from view.

"Sesshoumaru-sama. Are you alright?" Concern bled through the pain and the demon lord felt his eyes widen at the tremble in her voice.

Though rationality would have been against it, he dropped Tokajin, which occupied his only hand, and reached for her face. "Rin…"

She beamed, a small trickle of blood escaping through her parted lips. "My lord…you are alive…" She gave his shoulder one last grip and then collapsed against him, hands slackening.

His heart was pounding as he sat up, clutching his ward tightly. Frantically, he leaned over and placed his cheek near her mouth, hoping to find a hint of life. His vision wavered slightly and he called her name, stroking her cheek with a clawed finger. "Rin…" He got no response. The flesh beneath his hands, once full of life and warmth, was cooling beneath his touch. Still, he wouldn't give up. He brought his face closer to her's until their foreheads touched. "Wake up Rin. Your sword is still needed in this fight. You are too strong to lie down and die…Rin…"

"Leave her Sesshoumaru."

The demon lord turned at the sound of the voice behind him. It was a cool voice, almost distant, like its owner was speaking from the top of a mountain instead of an arm's breadth away. Most demons would have been afraid of that voice. Sesshoumaru had no reason to fear.

"Kikyou," he said, his voice low as he addressed his brother's mate.

"You won't reach her here," the miko said quietly. "You'll have to wait awhile yet. We shall be joining them all very soon." Sesshoumaru shivered as he felt power being wrapped around her. The priestess dropped her bow and reached for the chord around her neck, pulling out The Jewel of Four Souls. A swift yank tore the jewel from its confinement and when the miko clenched it tightly within her grasp, pale pink ribbons of energy sprang from its depths. Strings of power raced around her body like silk upon a weft until she was lit by a blazing halo.

Sesshoumaru had never felt a power such as this; had never seen the jewel perform in such a manner. A streak of lightning arched across the dark sky, followed immediately by rain and wind. Beneath him, he could feel the ground trembling, the beginnings of an earthquake preparing to unleash its force.

And the glow of The Jewel of Four Souls continued to grow until the miko lit up the area without the aid of the burned-out sun.

With her free hand, she stretched out an arm. "I don't have enough power to get rid of it, but with your help, I might be able to seal it." She moved closer to him, reaching for his hand. "Will you accept?"

Sesshoumaru reached.

The logical assumption would have been that he had died. He could still feel his soul being ripped from his body, used to form the wards that would seal the bane of the creature that had stolen the lives of thousands of his people. And yet, he was still breathing and he felt like he had simply woken up from restful sleep. Had that been the miko too? No, a human could not possibly have that kind of power.

The demon lord moaned. Another direction that made no sense. Perhaps, it would be best to leave these thoughts for another time. Perhaps, all would be clearer in the morning.

Sesshoumaru kept his eyes closed to his surroundings, but try as he might, his body would not find rest. Beyond the walls of the room, noise filtered in from the outside and the unfamiliar smells kept his senses awake and alert. Sleep was impossible.

End Chapter 4

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Chickahominy Creek: Wow, thanks for all the reviews, I'm so glad that people like this story. I've been working very hard on it. I should probably also address some of the questions I've been getting.

As far as what killed the men at the site and what happened to Kikyou and Sesshoumaru in the past, you'll have to read and find out. I can say that the two events are tied together. I did reveal some of the plot in this chapter and the truth of the matter will be out in its entirety within the next two chapters of so.

To address the "random" characters—there is not a single appearance without a purpose. I don't introduce names if I'm not going to use them in some way. Every person that has appeared thus far (with a name), will have an important role in the story either as a major of minor character (including Kagome's cat, which was mentioned in the first chapter).

The folklore and flashbacks: Again, everything has a purpose. The folklore is going to crop up again, especially the bit that was revealed in this chapter. Kagome, in this story, is a specialist in folklore, so I wanted to make more use of that other than just having her as an author of her own history. Some of the folklore I mention is actual folklore from a specific culture, some of it is a combination of cultures, and some of it I make up on the spot to suit my needs using a bit of real culture. Some of it culture someone else made up.

Suffice to say, there is more than meets the eye and what you think you're seeing may not be the actual truth, depending upon which character's eyes you are viewing events through. Narrators are not always reliable.

I hope this answers some of the questions everyone has. Please keep reading and leave me some reviews! Also, on a side note, if anyone would be interested in being a beta reader for this story, please let me know.