First of all, it's been a pleasure writing this. Every word I typed, every phrase that formed in my head, every awful moment of dead-lock where I struggled to type anything at all. I loved it. This story is finally mine, encased finally in the image that I'd hoped for, when the idea first came to me. I'm even proud of it.
Secondly, this end is what you make of it. When a story is read, it's not the author's choice, how it ends. This site wouldn't be here if the author had control over the ending of a story. How you interpret it is up to you. Make Phrixos what you wish.

Thirdly, I want to thank everyone who's taken the time to read, the time to think, the time to review. It's been a wonderful ride.

-Ex-Sam the Shapeshiter, furthermore E White.

Red kicked the bottom of the fountain in the Town square dejectedly, head hung. He watched the Halloween festivities continue without him, as they had the past three years. Sighing softly, he pushed up onto the side and clambered easily up to sit at the head of the statue, looking up at the harvest moon, red and ominous in the sky. He smiled crookedly – he had no choice – and listened to the faint strains of music in the chilly air.

The looming shadow flickered across the backdrop of green grass before Phrixos' eyes. The boy was sat at the base of a thick oak, branches almost bare and what was left hung solitary and blackening on gnarled branches. His knees pulled up to his chest, Phrixos held them tight with frozen white fingers, rocking softly on his feet, eyes wide and panicky, pale green. The shadow stopped, seemed to ask itself something and drew closer to the terrified figure. He flinched, closing his eyes tight, murmuring absently through gritted teeth.

"Phrixos?"

"Go away... go away... just go away..." he continued to mutter, cradling himself like a spider facing death. The shadow had filled his vision with black now and Phrixos could do nothing but unravel slightly and face it. A mass of moon crowded behind a spindly frame, blackened by the luminescent orb hanging in the star-less sky. He felt his throat freeze into a tight painful knot, his muscles fastening into aching masses, his chest tightening into an aching chasm of fear. Stars exploded in front of his eyes.

"Phrixos?" the voice called again.

The voice.

Before he could properly react, an instinctual yell threw itself from Phrixos' throat, tearing at his airway like a desperate animal. He knew that voice. Hurtling himself against the figure, he leapt to his feet, entangling from his own limbs and breaking into a run. His heart screamed at him and those aching muscles seized up, almost making him trip, but the panic-stricken adrenalin kept tight hold of his system, driving it on through the night like clock-work.

Sally had already spotted Jack in the park, saw him approach the boy from afar. She stood beneath the branches of the weeping willow, hidden in the boughs and speckled with wan moonlight, small hands clasped together at the skirt of her worn dress, pulled tight so that the stitching almost gave way. Her imitation grin hung pitiably low, lips slightly parted at the Halloween King's dismay, large eyes filled with sympathy for the desolate skeleton. She ducked from under the arches of willow and made her way over. The moon filled the whole of the lawn, bathed it and them both in its glow. She took his bony wrist gently, almost as if he were the fragile rag-doll in her place. He hardly acknowledged her, only moved his head slightly then sighed in his depleted heart-breaking fashion.

"Sally." He said simply.

"That was Phrixos, wasn't it?" Sally asked softly, her voice beautifully frail in the cold October air. Jack looked at her finally, his sockets showing no more emotion than the silent dead trees around them. She lowered her gaze, worried of his reaction. Another long sigh and he placed both skinny limbs around her shoulder, hugged as tight as he dared.

"Excuse me, Miss?"

Kim looked up with a smile, accompanied by her select few friends. It soon faded at the sight of her interrogator.

He smiled wider, shook auburn hair from his hair absently.

"Did you say Phrixos?" She blinked slightly, observing him, too shocked for a reply just yet.

He was tall, not as tall as Phrixos was – but then again, that would be a feat. His hair was thick, and deep red-auburn, that stuck out at odd and familiar angles. His skin was pale, almost a bluish tone from the light in the square, and his eyes were narrow and black-lined, the irises a captivating shade of gold. He was wearing a long-sleeved skinny t-shirt, striped red and black and pushed up to his elbows and - she remembered as a strange after-thought – red trousers. His smile was wide but uncomfortable, like a Cheshire Cat's grin. She smiled feebly back.

"Um, yes... why, you know him?" Kemina reasoned that he was obviously talking about the same Phrixos, as it was unlikely that any two people in the whole of London had that name. The stranger – about two years older than him, Kim supposed in the back of her mind – laughed, a laugh that was as cool as the smile. She shivered despite herself and zipped her parka up a notch, looking elsewhere.

"I guess you could say that. More like an acquaintance, actually."

"Nothing new there..." she grumbled, then caught herself and blushed slightly. "Sorry, it's just..."

"He's not very friendly." He cut into her excuse like a hot knife, eyes still trained on Kim firmly. She flushed hot under his eyes. "Am I right?"

"You know him, then, at least. Wouldn't happen to know where the git is? I'm freezing my ass off out here for him." She flipped the phone back down and huddled into her coat, trying to avoid those eyes.

"I can't say I do. But I'll be sure to give you the heads up if I do, Miss...?"

"Kim. Just Kim." She smiled feebly and nodded slightly. The young man smiled his feline grin and walked away, sparing her a backwards glance. At the pavement's edge on the other side of the square were two other svelte silhouettes, smoke rising from one. He seemed to give the crouched figure a soft kick and nodded back at her. In the harsh light from the street lamps, Kim could barely make out one as female – the stood one, with big curled most probably black hair, clothed in pale purple and green stripes – and the other – the smoking one, paler than even the red-haired one, dressed in black – as most probably male, and then as the shortest of the three as they – he? - got to their feet. Feeling three pairs of eyes on her, Kim blushed furiously and turned away.

Before she started walking, three voices sang out in shrill laughter, shrieks in the harsh October night.

The kitten from before jumped to its feet as a clatter of dustbins roared in the alley. Phrixos skidded back from the wall, holding one side of his face. Hot blood ran through his fingers and down the back of his hand, he coughed weakly and removed it, feeling the cold spear through the wound like ice. Sniffing, he rose to his feet and quickly regretted it. Pain ran in a spasm through his neck, clearing his head out in a white wave as he felt his limbs shatter back against the cobblestones. The black finally overtook the white, but, even as he lost consciousness, Phrixos heard something, faintly, on the corner of his hearing. Soft strains of music and running water.

Red jumped down from the fountain edge with a start, eyes wide, mouth half-open. The splash died down to a slosh of water from the well beneath the statue, leaving the overflowed water to drip quietly down onto the paved spiralling walk-way. Nothing moved, not even Red's chest. He didn't even blink, listening for anything else to disturb the atmosphere in the sullen centre of Halloween Town. The Towner had almost relaxed again when it happened.

A skeletal hand rose through the water and grabbed at the edge of the fountain, green liquid pouring from between the bones in it, bleached white. An arm followed it, then a shoulder, then...

Red watched as the boy coughed, pulling himself fully out of the water and dropping to his knees on the path. He coughed up some of the pale liquid and hung his head, black hair soaked. Red's eyes flickered to his arm, the same one that had pulled himself out of the well. Perfectly fleshy, which surprised him, and perfectly human, which terrified him. The boy lifted his head and looked at him through sodden ebony locks. Red swallowed the words on his tongue and felt his skin prickle, the first feeling he'd had since he could remember. Two eyes, black like onyx, fixed on him, burning with an intense flame that made the boy seem suddenly inhuman and cold.

"I'll go get the Doctor." Red murmured, making off in a stumbling run.

Phrixos Caber closed his eyes into black. His hands slid from the knot, the last of his energy leaving the heavy dead limbs, the weak embrace of death finally dragging him under.

Kemina Johan nursed the coffee in her hands, sat in the room at the boarding school, eyes on the television. Her friend, Ingrid, ran her cold hand around her shoulder again, cradling her in a half-hearted hug, a sympathetic and hurt half-smile on her face. The girl didn't react, merely, cuddled a little more into herself, listening to the report again in her mind. The calendar on the wall showed October 31st, but the date on her open phone read the 2nd of November, 14:23. Kim sniffed, glanced at it and back.

"And that's all we have time for, but we'll be back after Hollyoaks with another news update." the reporter said, nodding to the camera absently. The gaping hole that was waiting to eat up Kim's insides laughed at the futility of the idea and sucked her a little further in, leaving them cold and uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Kim, I just thought you had to know..." Ingrid started, but a sharp sniff from the auburn-haired girl stopped her short. She shook her head and picked her phone up.

"It's a mistake. He'll be calling soon."

"Kemina..."

"Ingrid, it's a mistake." She insisted, with the hard coldness of denial.

The girl sighed and stood up, took the cold coffee from Kim's hands and made an excuse before leaving. She didn't answer, only turned the TV channel to another news broadcast.

"-and back to you, Melody."

"Thanks, Jonathan." The news-reader turned to face the camera and her faint smile turned to a trained expression of nonchalance, almost regret. Kemina's insides took another step towards nausea.

"The body of a teenager was found in the early hours of yesterday morning, in the Brookes Park in South-East London near Backlesbury Drive. The boy, a male aged between 17 and 19, was found hanged in the woods near the play area of the public park at 3 am after an anonymous call was made to the local police stating that a body had been found there, no more information was given. He was identified as Jack Caber, a student at a local high school in the area, and was said to have long-running yet improving mental health problems; he was estimated to have died an hour before the authorities received the call.

"Police have stated the death as suicide, with no suspicious circumstances, and no further investigation will be carried out."

The television set flickered grey as Kim pressed the red button, running a hand through her short hair. The air had caught in her chest, making her next breath shaky and fragile, laced with tears.

The windows were open on both sides, bringing in the cold November breeze and, on the other side of the room, Phrixos' bag lay open, his clothes folded, his bed untouched.