DISCLAIMER FROM 2024

At the encouragement of my readers, some of whom have followed me for twenty years, I have decided to reupload my old fanfiction stories. I do this with some reservations. I wanted to revise them before posting them again, but the sheer amount of words involved means that that would take me years to accomplish, and it would be better for me to focus on writing new stories instead. Maybe someday I'll go back and make the edits, but for now, I'm reposting everything, warts and all. So expect characters to be out of character, expect nonsensical sections, and expect there to be many grammar, punctuation, and spelling mistakes.

In addition, please understand that the story you have in front of you was written by a very different person. I was a teenager who was raised on 90's media, who lived in an abusive household and in a white conservative town. I was steeped in problematic beliefs and had an equally troubling sense of humor. Anything I wrote before 2010 will reflect that.

However, my understanding of the world has grown since then. I'm an adult now, out of the closet and firmly politically left. I'm also much better at my craft these days. It makes me cringe to think about how my earlier writing must have hurt some of my readers.

That being said, these stories were also ones that people loved and missed. If they can still make someone's day brighter, that's worth something. Maybe they can even inspire others by showing them how much someone's writing can grow with time and practice. Plus, my younger self worked hard on these. Even the darkest ones comforted her during a difficult time in her life. So maybe I owe her something better than burying her words.

So, without further ado, welcome to my old fanfics! You're in for a messy and melodramatic experience. As always, I hope you enjoy the read.

HALLOW: THIRD PERSON EDITION

PROLOGUE

"I trust the Ascension went well?"

The young man the god of darkness spoke to, his sonorous voice pervading into his bones, bowed low, his nutmeg hair falling down in curly strand across his tanned face. Aquamarine eyes glistened with both the due honor the shadow celestial was owed, and of a strange, alien nervousness. The Attendant, trained since he could walk and speak to wait on his charge, who knew well how to handle them, was rarely caught off guard by one. Yet, this candidate the god had picked….

"Sir, the young woman you chose as you new High Priestess…she hardly seems suitable, respectfully speaking. She…not only must we take into account what she was, but she fought all the way back to you holy Temple—"

"Do you doubt my ability to choose, Bryon?"

The Attendant dared to look up, in his flustered, and snapped out, "No, of course not! It's merely—"

"I will handle her. After I have finished this rite, you will have to do your duties. Gather your handmaidens now, if you will, Attendant."

Sighing silently, the human bowed again, and walked backwards out of the seraph's sight, evaporating into one of the many shadows, passageways about these rooms. He might have argued, and the divine one might have seen his reason…but there had never been an issue he couldn't resolve with his own abilities. A mere child-woman would prove no different.

Purposeful and solemn, the creature drifted down the hall, the torches flickered a dim orange cast on his lavender, feline form. Black banners of recent mourning a sickly-sweet incense hung about the wall, permeating the air, an aria wind making the fabrics and aromas dance about him. As he approached the sealed, cold Room of the Sovereign, the guards at the door bowed and stepped aside, allowing him to pass. The demon might have merely materialized into the locked area of stone and metal, but he had little desire to flaunt his abilities, even one as simple as that. Yet, in his mood, he thrust the doors open without letting his paws grace them, and after striding inside, slammed them shut behind him. They rang out an eerie note that sounded much like a ring of doom, a bell of fate clanging an end, or a harsher beginning.

From the open window facing the western sea, a shaft of pale moonlight was all that lit the room. Unlike the flickering light of flame, this cast a silent glow into the room…though the silver light barely grazed the only other occupant. Standing with her back turn on him was a woman no older than nineteen…her features hidden in wraps of light fabric, her long hair colorless in the shadow she stood in. Only later could he recall that the most striking thing about this moment were her eyes….

"Why do you fight? Many would give all they have for the opportunity I present to you."

Like a feral cat, she snarled at him, not turning around, "I want nothing to do with serving you! I would prefer to keep my life."

"You are nothing, currently."

"Perhaps not to you."

He approached her rigidly, taking her by the shoulders harshly, and spun her around to face him. She resisted, but only for a moment. For how could one fight a god, even a mortal one? Yet, in a forbidden act of defiance, she met his eyes…red orchid meeting amethyst. Both flared with fire, scorching each other's soul…yet neither moved any or spoke. Then, roughly, he grasped her chin in a paw, forcing her to continue to glare into his face.

"I have chosen you. Obey your calling."

It was said softly, almost like a request. Yet she defiantly spat in his face, an act punishable by death had she been seen by the priests. No one insulted a god without paying a high price. However, his only response was to wipe away her shining gift.

"Will you defy your fate?"

She almost laughed wryly, "You say that as though I have a choice. But there is no such thing as free will in your holy kingdom. After all, no creature can escape death, or what comes after it."

"Correct. Now, must I force you?"

She grinned in revolt. "Of course. I have no desire to be yours."

There was a pause. "We shall see about that."

She struggled to break free of his grasp, but it was too firm about her frail form. In this way, she could not fight. However, the human had a strong will, and as he thrust into her mind, she struck back at him. It surprised him, her sturdy, determined blazing will. In the end, though, he won within a matter of moments, as always. His will quenched hers, dominated over hers, until it was nothing more than a faint flicker of flame, the light of a candle. An innocent tiny fire…though it risked sparking into something far greater. For now, however, she belonged to him.

He left her there, within the room, learning back against the call wall without thoughts, consciousness. Glowered back one, he murmured.

"Welcome to your new home, my High Priestess."

Then, he departed…leaving Bryon and the Handmaidens to their work. Hours later, he could be found on the roof of the vast temple complex, staring out at the crimson sea. Dawn had begun, the sun the color of fiery blood. A few hardy trees rustled in the gardens below him, and the faint wind, filled with cries of mourning, created flurries of white dust along the sandy coastline. About the mesa where his temple stood, the Egyptian-like city of clay and sand, held scarcely any movements during this day. The hours following the Priestess' death, followed by the appointment of the new. A flock of pidgey fluttered into the sky, as thought accompanying the soul of Kara, the previous one who had been poisoned by those she had foolishly trusted.

Now however? Was a new beginning.

There was no telling what it would lead it.