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The basilisk known as Siscilia padded into the moonlit clearing in the middle of an ancient forest. She was wolf like in appearance, scars covering the length of her body. Moonlight reflected off her sleek ebony and crimson tipped fur making it glow. She turned her head, ears low. Siscilia looked around, her icy blue eyes piercing the darkness like a dagger through flesh. The wind moaned casting a sorrowful note to the night. Stars winked mournfully in a full moonlit night sky. It was a night for sadness. The basilisk noticed a smallish figure in the clearing, her gaze riveted on the dark silhouette lying on the ground. Siscilia slinked over to investigate, her paws making nearly no sound. She flexed her leathery wings slightly, coming to a stop by the figure now at her feet. Her breathing sputtered for a bit, nearly in disbelief. Ears perked in recognition. She smiled almost in a malicious manner, before jerking her paw back for she had trodden in something very warm and wet. Trees groaned and creaked in the wind, which had picked up slightly. Sniffing at her paw her smile returned, malice clearly seen this time. The basilisk giggled to her self, opening a second pair of sickly green eyes, the ones that killed if one looked into them. She laughed, nearly prancing around like a playful puppy. It had been such a long time since she could really ‘see’ like her breed does. She looked around, taking in the old forest. A loud squawk broke the near silence for a bird had looked into her gaze. She watched it fall dead out of an old oak tree. Siscilia lowered her head a bit. “Whoops” the basilisk cooed in a light but nearly deep voice. Her eyelids fell over the second set of eyes, but the blue pair stayed wide open and seemingly emotionless for the moment. She looked back at the human like form near her feet, which was obviously female. She whispered “Farewell, My Dear” and bowed her neck to the figure in a slightly mocking manner. She turned and walked off pausing for a second to look back. The clearing appeared larger than when she first entered it. Without a word the basilisk walked into the forest, being swallowed up by darkness. The figure remained motionless as it had when Siscilia first entered the forest. A large feathered wing, torn and bloody lay beside the body. Blood pooled around it.

It was the angel, Darthek Hathnar. Even now she was beautiful. Moonlight reflected off her light colored skin, making her look even more unearthly that she usually would appear. The glow that seemed to emanate from her body was gone. Fresh tears clung to the angel’s cheeks, glistening in the moonlight. A sad expression was played across her face, her eyes once an icy green were now dull and lifeless. The only light seen in them was that of the pale moon. Darthek was sprawled out on her side in the dewy grass an arm thrown over her head, the other tucked near her stomach. She wore her translucent white, silken dress which now appeared in shreds. It swayed pitifully in a light breeze. She didn’t respond to the wind’s caress on her body and it howled in response. Leaves danced to an unheard mournful tune around her. The angel’s left breast was exposed including nearly all of her body. Long silvery hair lay in masses around her, entangled in leaves and flowers. Blood pooled around the her graceful body. Moonlight reflected in the miniature crimson lakes and rivers. On her chest a large angry heart shaped gash adorned her exposed breast which still oozed blood, staining the remains of her dress and her hair. Four slits decorated each arm, located at each wrist and one at each place where the elbows bent. Blood poured freshly from these, trickling down her arms and pooling in her hand before overflowing to join the rest of her life-force on the ground. Moonlight reflected off a golf ball sized object clutched in one of her hands. It was a crystal heart, as red as the color of the angel’s blood. Silver lettering engraved in it read: “Shasaryll Horokote”. It was the name of the demoness, the angel’s lover. The other hand clutched a beautiful silver dagger, and the flower that was usually in her hair The stars winked above, one going out. Darthek was dead, dying for love. She died alone. The night was silent, the wind didn’t stir again. A single depressing and soul tearing note sounded in the distance, then nothing. All was dead to her. Someone grieved that night. A fallen angel, now dead to everything.