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Bayb-Tiger: I'm glad you were all intrigued through my prologue, which of course was my goal, I would just like to give a short warning beforehand that until the summer, the updates may be fairly slow, but once summer comes I promise you ALL regular updates!

Thanks: dbzgtfan2004, MizEvilBlossoms, AirStriker, hAPPy, Trumpet-Geek, and Angelikyte Alexiel. Also although the prologue was dramatic…this first chapter is going to be fairly slow…but don't worry it DOES pick up…obviously if I need to reach that ending! Thank you so much for reviewing!

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Chapter One: The Voice

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Syaoran Li sighed tiredly as he watched the servants move his stuff in this small town of Tomoeda that was literally in the outskirts of town in the middle of nowhere. He had been unsure of moving here at first because of the uneasy feeling this place had giving him. It was like a chilling feeling that came down his spine.

His entire life he had lived in a large house with many servants to work for him along with his family, but now they were in for a dramatic change. His mother and him had escaped out of their city with the help of some close family friends and most of the family fortune.

His father was part of the royal committee in China, but his father was later founded for treason. Because of this the King had ordered for all with the Li family name were to be killed.

His four older sisters were all massacred on sight. His father's friend's who knew saw this happen quickly came to the house to warn the others. However the only people home at the time were his parents and himself. In great urgency everything they could carry was packed, all the greatest riches were packed along with it, although most were used along the way to bribe those to help them leave there.

He had watched his father head to the dining room to place on his armour he had worn years back when he was in the army. His mother had pleaded for his father to leave with them, but he had told them, he had to stay. This was his family; his soul belonged to this house he would die here like he knew he would.

His mother hadn't stopped crying even when they were set off in a boat to Japan. Even now as Syaoran looked at her, he wasn't quite sure what to expect.

His mother was a woman of great grace and poise. Never in his life had he seen his mother fall apart like this. He could only hope but to understand her pain. She was losing her family, and her home with only him left.

And him, all he had was her. His entire life was now to be forever forgotten, they could only worry about the present.

As the slaves placed the last of their luggage they hurried off back to the ship to head back to China. Syaoran searched around trying to find his mother through the cluttered house. He found her sitting outside on the porch of the house silent standing there with her hair blowing through the airy wind.

They were living right by the coast so the wind seemed endless, but his mother didn't seem to mind a bit. She continued to stay there her long black hair no longer tied up in a bun.

"Mother," Syaoran said unsurely as he bowed respectfully.

His mother didn't voice out anything, but instead she turned around with a small smile on her face. Her makeup was all run down off her checks and her eyes puffy from all the crying. Quickly wiping the last of the dry tears she stood up straight, "Xiao Lang, we have much to do."

Syaoran nodded his head, "You should head back inside mother, it's getting late out."

His mother nodded her ruby red eyes gleaming with fresh tears, but she didn't allow them to fall, "Just a few more minutes, perhaps you should unpack some of the stuff first?"

Syaoran nodded stiffly as he headed back inside. But before heading in, he decided to take a look around at his new life, his new home.

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Once outside the scenery immediately took his breath away. The soft pre winter breeze was blowing around him taking the leaves and petals from the trees and allowing them to flow gently to the soft earth below him. Closing his eyes it took him away from this world. In himself he wished one thing, and that was he could just disappear that everything that happened was all but a dream. That his mother wasn't inside this very moment crying her tears out.

And this was his only release to escape the world we all called life. By shutting his eyes he allowed himself to be enveloped in darkness, but this darkness was like a warmth that took away all his troubles for just the moment. He allowed himself to be carried away with the nature around him and to be allowed to fall down the endless hole of darkness away from this place.

He allowed himself to be one with nature hearing all the little sounds of the birds chirping, of the waves hitting the rocks by the cliff and than there was that soft noise. It was human, he could tell by the words. But they weren't just words no, the voice was singing. Singing the words gently, preciously even as though each word could possibly be the last. The melody itself was captivating and the voice, was so, perfect.

If he ever heard a perfect voice, this would be it. It was soft and full of volume, and it held such grace. It held such passion that it felt as though it was entrapping him. Suddenly he saw a light, a light in the dark hole he had been falling into. Following the light he realized he was back, back to the real world.

He gave himself a second to regain his sense. Afterwards he remembered the voice again and began searching for it. Who had been singing? He looked past the trees, past the few houses, over the cliffs and into the ocean but he couldn't find a single soul outside.

The wind was blowing stronger now and he wrapped his arms around him trying to keep in the warmth. That was when he heard it again, the voice, it was faint but it was still there. Deciding he was going to find the person of the voice if it was the last thing he did he quickly ran towards it. As he neared it he noticed it was slowly getting louder but as he felt he would finally find the owner of the voice it stopped.

The singing was gone, the voice was gone. Turning around he pleaded in his mind for it to return. He wanted, no needed the voice to return. There was something in the voice, something holy, mystical even. Realizing that it wasn't going to come back, he took the dirt path to return home, he would try again tomorrow to find the mystical voice.

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