[hr][center][h2]Window into Oblivion[/h2]
[@Shiyonichi][hr]
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The celestial caravan flew into the dark of night the air thickened. Dark clouds billowed overhead and exhaled long winter breath. Flecks of snow filled the air while the thin blanket of gray mist along the ground began to spread while the ambient mist grew and plumed erratically. Some areas experienced sporadic, spiraling bursts. Others, slow and thoughtful, evolved into a branching lattice of miserable gray shapes. Wet, vaporous tendrils twisted toward the sky, grappling viciously as if each plume of cold miasma were enthralled in a cannibalistic feeding frenzy. The rocky landscape quickly began to vanish behind a scene of unfathomable, silent carnage. Visibility was already strained with distance, but in less than a minute, it had shrunk to mere meters. 

There was no sound except the high winds cutting around distant peaks. All the angelic warriors ever saw was the silhouette of a gaping maw within the fog. One moment they there, hovering elegantly with their weapons poised for action, the next moment, they were simply gone. An intense flash of dread rebounded through Miyuki's magical link as the angelic summons ceased to be. The sharp knife of killing intent cut into Asuka's senses, except it stabbed at her from every direction. The mist surrounded them menacingly.

The only guardian to remain was the flaming archangel closest to the sisters, but the wall of mist was circling ever closer. It stalked them with predatory intelligence, contemplating how best to consume them. 



[hr][center][h2]Grim Reflections[/h2]
[@Foxsoxs][hr]
[img]https://steemitimages.com/DQmVjCAkvdBLxw5uJZ88nU5zqFUNRFikSo1uLrwPxyZuCBG/b2c68c3d3b44a493560c67fff55ccebe--dark-gothic-art-beautiful-moon.jpg[/img][/center]

After wandering at length, Vaettir came across a small child squatting by a nearby pond and peering into the murky water. Hearing someone approach she turned with feral quickness.  Bright, piercing green eyes stared at the demon. Her face was still plump and round, but the rest of her was thin and wiry. Her smock was obviously made for an older girl. She didn’t wear it as much as it just draped over her small frame. 

She regarded Vaettir curiously and slowly stood up. [b]“Can you help me?”[/b] She murmured softly, and pointed timidly at the patch of reeds. [b]“I don’t know what to do.”[/b]

They weren’t reeds at all, but a wet mop of hair. There was a small body lying in the water, almost completely submerged. It was every inch the same as the girl standing by Vaettir, but this child was wretched and broken. Her chestnut-brown hair was matted with thick layers of blood while the rest of her strands listlessly flowed back and forth as the waters lapped the muddy shore. Something sharp and serrated had torn through her neck, ripping strips of flesh loose from the bone. The force had been enough to separate most of the shoulder from the neck. Water had washed away much of the blood, but her dress and hair were still stained. The purple tinge beneath her pale skin told him she had been dead no more than a few hours.

Vaettir saw a stunning reflection of himself in the water surrounding the tiny corpse, but quickly noticed the young girl beside him didn’t have one. 

[b]“I was trying to find papa. Some men attacked me, and I fell.”[/b] She recalled, her voice hollow. Her gaze was fixed on the familiar green of listless, dead eyes. [i]Her[/i] eyes. She hadn’t realized what she was, but she knew she was dead.

[b]“What do I do?”[/b]