Chapter Seven "A Glimpse of You in the Darkness"
When the angel opened his eyes dreamily, he saw that it was still night, and he was not surprised.
He yawned, stretching luxuriously like a regal cat upon his bed of flowers, breathing in their sweet, heavy, rich scent that made him feel drowsy again. Surely he had stumbled upon paradise when he had wandered into this wondrous garden?
He rolled onto his back, the soft feathers of his own wings combined with the velvet petals of the roses were like silk sheets under him as he gazed up at the eternal night sky above him, wondering for the thousandth time who he was, and why he even cared.
It was like the flow of time held no sway within the high stone walls of the rose garden. It had frozen long ago at this one moment, holding the sky and the angel's memory fixed at this one point in eternity, unable to look forward to what he should do next, incapable of glancing back and remembering who he was, why he had come here in that flight of terrible desperation...
A star overhead twinkled and seemed to fade as the angel sat up amongst the crimson roses, wrapping his pure white wings around himself as he struggled to unlock his memories, battling against uncertainty and dé-ja-vú.
Then, just as he was brushing on a sad memory of tears and feathers, he felt a cool breeze (or was it a breath?) upon his cheek, and the illusion of a pale hand was on his shoulder, gently forcing him to lay back amongst the flowers as his amber eyes grew heavier and heavier with another sudden spell of weariness.
Not yet, don't make me sleep again yet...I almost remember his name...
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"Sleep well, O Fallen Angel, upon your bed of roses, and forget all your pain...and your love..."
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The corridor cut off completely, a sudden dead end, not even opening out slightly into another room, surprising Dark and Satoshi, who were breathless from that last sprint.
Satoshi knew he was over-exerting himself, his harsh, ragged breathing and the constricting pains around his chest were not good signs.
"Satoshi?"
"Hey, Hiwatari, you OK? You don't look so hot." Said Dark, leaning against the far wall.
"Shut up a minute," wheezed Satoshi "Can't you hear him?"
"What?" Dark paused, listening intently. "What can't I hear?"
"Satoshi-kun, I'm right here..."
"It's Daisuke!" Exclaimed Satoshi.
"I'm right here, Satoshi, come and get me..."
Dark looked around, straining his ears for any sound of his missing redhead tamer. "Hiwatari, what are you on about, I can't hear hi-Hiwatari!"
Dark had turned round to look at him, to ask if he was hearing things, but Satoshi Hiwatari was nowhere to be seen.
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"You idiot, Dark, can't you hear him?" Satoshi closed his eyes for a moment, leaning against the cold brick wall as he struggled to get his breathing under control. When he looked up again a second later, the corridor was empty.
"Dark?"
"Dark?" The sound of his own voice echoed back at him around the empty passage.
"Oh, shit."
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It was truly a beautifully painted creation, this portrait, no doubt an early Hikari work. Dark could feel the old magic radiating off of it like a physical wave as he moved closer, inspecting the image upon the canvas.
Even by the standards of the Hikari family, the artist must have been exceptionally talented, for his artwork held even the legendary Phantom Thief Dark Mousy utterly transfixed. Every thought in the thief's mind was pushed aside as he stood captivated by the painting in front of him.
The image itself was that of a vast and beautiful garden, full of nothing but the deepest, most wonderfully painted red roses, exquisite in full bloom under the midnight sky backdrop. The full moon and thousands of bright stars each painstakingly captured in high detail brush strokes. Ancient, crumbling stone walls surround that marvellous garden, running the length of the picture up to the imposing shiluette of a lightning-struck tower, reaching far up into the heavens, topped with a pinnacle of light brighter than any of the shining constellations in that velvet night sky.
Dark had no idea of how long he stood in that black corridor, transfixed by that mysterious painting, and as he admired its' facade, the painting's spirit began to weave the threads to ensnare Dark's soul...
The edges of the painting slowly blurred, and the gold-inlaid frame began to disappear from sight, melting away into the darkness of the corridor around it, so that the image stretched to fill the space around Dark, expanding from the canvas to reality as the petals of the painted roses began to sway under the lull of a gentle breeze.
The pictures of the magnificent tower and the vast, beautiful sky shimmered as if in a heat haze, and a voice from Dark's fondest memories came drifting to him on the gentle wind, the silky, lustrous tones of a fallen angel...
"I'm here; Dark...Your love is here..."
Dark gasped as he recognised that unforgettable voice.
"Krad?" he whispered in disbelief.
"Come to me, my love...come and sleep amongst the roses..."
Dark found himself flying above the rose garden, searching through the flowers, through the night, just for a glimpse...There he was, lying upon a mound of crimson rose petals, contrasting in the moonlight upon his skin that was as pale as his pure white angel wings.
"Come and lie amongst the roses..."
His black wings faltered, beating softly against the night for a moment of hesitation. Then they slowed, and Dark began drifting to the ground, falling as slowly as a snowflake, and as he descended his eyes grew heavy with an unnatural fatigue that faintly sparked alarm and suspicion in his dimming mind. Something's wrong here...I...I mustn't...sleep...
Too late to stop, the raven-winged angel fell from the sky above, landing softly next to the already sleeping pale-winged blonde.
"Krad..." he whispered softly, wrapping his arms around his lost love before being lost to the deep, dreamless sleep of the Twilight Garden.
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It almost felt like a whole new morning, with the exception of the night that forever hung in the sky. But something had changed in the garden...
The blonde awoke first, returning to his shallow haven to discover the strong arms wrapped tenderly around his slender waist, belonging to the strange, handsome man with the black wings who lay sleeping beside him.
The other stirred slightly, keeping his eyes closed. He asked "Is it morning...?"
"I don't know," the blonde replied calmly. "I thing it's always night here."
He watched as the black winged man opened his eyes to the night. He has such amazing eyes the blonde mused. Like sparkling amethysts...
"So...who are you?" The blonde man asked.
The darker haired man seemed to have to think about it for a moment, studying the white angel with those fathomless eyes which opened wide in shock as he replied
"I don't know...who I am..."
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That's the end of chapter seven. My sincerest apologies to all non-amnesia fans (I'm one myself actually...but this is the path the plot led me down...I guess I'm a walking contradiction!) Nah, amnesia can be good in fanfictions when it's used well, but if you don't, then it goes a little crappy...(For a good example see "Devils in the Church" by S.Chensu. For a bad example see Lia Xaragi's "Wilting Roses")
Changing the subject completely, I want to say a big big thank you to Luff, Pugi, Mai and Charlio (Who is now on for their lovely Christmas pressies! (I'm sorry for opening them early, I'm so impatient!) And I wanna thank all the readers and reviewers and wish them all a very Happy Christmas and New Year!
Lots of love for 2006!
Lia xxx