I gripped my knife as he entered the room, and tried to crouch tighter against the shadows of the corner. It was too risky to show myself. The government's soldiers were everywhere--and besides, even if he was on my side, I wasn't sure I wanted to make alliances.

He had mousy brown hair and freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks. He had brilliant green eyes, but bags hung beneath him, indicating that he had not gotten much sleep for days, like most people. Dirt smeared his face and hands. His lips parted and he let out a quiet yawn.

I narrowed my eyes and held my knife closer to me. What was he doing here? Why did he seem so careless? I scowled. Was he even going to do something, or was he just going to stand there like an idiot?

His gaze darted around the room, and I tensed as it flitted past me. I relaxed. He hadn't seen me yet. I stroked my knife, and glanced up at him.

His gaze rested on a vase, and he walked over to study it. He took it from the shelf and turned it over in his hands, running his fingers along the intricate designs and carvings. After what seemed like hours--although it could have just been minutes--he lay the vase back on the shelf, glanced around one more time, and walked out of the room.

I sat crouched in the corner for a very long time after he left, to make sure that he wasn't going to come back. Finally, I crawled out of the corner, knife in hand. I stretched, and tip-toed over to study the vase. The designs and carvings seemed to tell a story--one that I could not follow, of course, for the carvings and designs were jumbled all over the place--but it was a story, at that.

Suddenly, the door opened, and I dropped the vase. It shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, and a gasp came from the door.

I glanced over to see him again. I gritted my teeth. I had been sure he was gone--yet here he was. I ran my thumb of my knife's handle, and said, my voice thick with menace, "Who are you? Friend or foe?"

He gazed at me for a long while before answering. He tipped his head and said, his voice a bit shaky, "I--I would ask the s-same of you."

I raised my knife. "I asked the question first," I hissed. "Now, answer me, or I'll kill you."

He blinked. "You're--You're one of them, right? The government's enemies?" He drew in a breath. "I guess I'm a foe."

I rolled my eyes. "Thought so. Government's pet." I paused for a moment, and lunged forward, knife in hand. "I guess I'll have to kill you."

I tried to stab his throat, but he blocked my blow with his own knife. He tried to knock my knife out of my hand, but, when that didn't work, he squeezed his eyes shut and stabbed my shoulder instead.

I dropped my knife and fell away from him. It took me a moment to register that I had been stabbed. I glanced down at the knife lodged in my shoulder, and thought simply, 'Oh. I've been stabbed.' And once I realized that, pain started running up and down my arm, making me gasp in agony and resist the urge to scream.

His eyes widened, and his eyes searched the room. After a quick moment, he raced up to a table and stole the cloth from it, and he then ran back to me. "Sorry," he said quietly, "but this is going to hurt." He yanked the knife from my shoulder and pressed the cloth against the wound, which had started gushing blood.

And hurt it did. Pain exploded from my shoulder and black spots started to dance in my vision, but I pushed them away. Confusion started to cloud the pain, and I asked, "Why are you helping me, government's pet? You're supposed to be the enemy. Need help with that? Okay, I'll give you instructions. I'm the enemy. You kill the enemy."

He stared down at the cloth, which was starting to redden with my blood. "I don't like killing people," he said softly.

"You don't like killing people?" I scoffed. "Uh-huh. You're a soldier; you're a government's pet. That's what you do. You fight, you kill."

Suddenly, he stopped applying pressure to my wound and gazed up at me. "I don't kill people," he said, and then mumbled something that I could not make out.

"Then why're you a soldier?" I snarled."Well, pet? Why do you stand with the government, loyal like a drooling dog?" I narrowed my eyes. "Soldiers kill people, and that's why I don't stand with them."

His eyes started to burn with an angry fire. "Why do I fight for the government?" He asked, his voice low. "Why am I a soldier? Because I need to support my family, that's why. Because we are poor, and we need money. And by fighting for the government, I can give them the support they need." His voice started to rise. "I do NOT kill people. I have not killed anyone; not once in my life. And what about you? You are apparently against killing people, huh? Well, what about back there? You tried to kill me. And how many others have you tried to kill? How many soldiers, how many elders, how many children, standing with the government? And how many times have you succeeded?"

I stared at him, silent for a long, long time as I, surprised at his outburst, mulled over what he said. Finally, I said softly, "Four. I have killed four soldiers." I turned away, suddenly ashamed under his intense gaze.

His hands started to push against the cloth again. "I thought so," came his whispered reply.

After a few more minutes, he removed the cloth, for the blood had stopped. He gave my shoulder a few more dabs, and then said, "How's your shoulder? I'm really sorry that I hurt you."

My shoulder was lightly throbbing, but I said, "It's fine." I paused. "And, um, thank you."

He smiled a bit. "You are very welcome." He tilted his head. "What's your name? I'm Cooper."

"Amanda," I replied, not smiling back, "but my friends call me Mandi." I prodded my shoulder a bit, resting where it hurt and where it didn't. I winced as my fingers found a tender spot.

Cooper laughed quietly, for no reason. "And can I call you Mandi?"

I thought about this. "No." I got to my feet. "Well, I'll be leaving now. I should probably go before you run off to get the authorities." I rolled my eyes, walked over to the corner, and slung my backpack over my good shoulder. I turned on my heel and started out the door.

"Wait!" Cooper called. "Mandi--I mean, Amanda." He grabbed my hand.

I spun around. "What do you need?" I spat. "I'm not coming with you willingly to the headquarters, pet." I yanked my hand away from his.

"I know that..." He paused, and locked his gaze with mine. "Where are you going, Amanda?"

I sighed. "Somewhere. Anywhere. Away from here." I made big gestures with my hands as I said it. "Everywhere."

"I..." Cooper hesitated. "Um, could I come with you?"

I blinked, and scowled. "Are you kidding me, pet? God, no. You're a soldier. Is this some sort of dumb trick? Because I'm not falling for it."

Cooper took a step back. "No."

I crossed my arms. "Well, then. Why do you want to come?"

"Because... Because, your shoulder isn't fully healed yet. I need to keep an eye one that." His mouth twisted into a half-smile.

I sighed. "Okay, look. I know that's not the only reason, so unless you can cough it up, I'm leaving you here."

Cooper looked down at his shoes. "Well... Well... You're the closest thing I've had to a friend for a long, long time." He looked at his feet. "And... My family. There's something I didn't tell you." He sighed. "Well, okay. I lied. My family doesn't need my support. Not really." He turned away. "My family's rich. But they... They support the government entirely, and... And so... I had to work for the government, or else my family... Well, let's just say, um... They aren't exactly kind to people that don't support the government."

I was quiet for a long time. "You mean... You don't support the government? And why did you lie?" I scowled, and crossed my arms.

He bit his thumbnail. "If I told you the truth, you would have killed me. You know you would have."

"Yes," I said slowly. "Yes, I would have. But if it was a choice, why did you join? And what's all this about not supporting the government? And why did you choose to tell me the truth now, only minutes later? I could kill you right now, if I wanted. Oh yeah, and just to be honest: we aren't friends. I tried to kill you, Cooper. That isn't friendship."

He smiled the tiniest bit. "You softened up in those minutes. You won't kill me; I can tell. I could have killed you, but I didn't." He shrugged. "I don't support the government. Not really. But I'm not against the government, either, not like you." He sucked in a breath. "If I hadn't of joined, my family would have gotten suspicious." He glanced at me, eyes wide. "And Amanda, you don't know my family. They're harsh." He shuddered a bit. "You may have tried to kill me. But you didn't."

"I tried. And I can do it again." I picked my knife up from off the floor.

"You aren't going to."

"Why do you think that?"

"Because I just healed your shoulder. And because of your eyes. They aren't cold, although your voice may be. I already told you this."

"And stabbed it," I said, ignoring what he said about my eyes.

"I could have killed you, but I didn't. You owe me one."

Silence.

"Oh, fine," I sighed, giving in. "But you make any attempt to find the government officials, I will kill you."

He grinned. "Got it." He started out the door, and I followed.

In the empty hallways, I said sternly, "You aren't allowed to talk, pet. Too dangerous."

"Okay, fine," Cooper said, and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

There was a long silence as we walked through the metallic halls, occasionally stopping to hide in the corners as soldiers passed.

Then Cooper spoke. "Hey, Mandi?"

"Don't CALL me that," I mumbled.

"Amanda?"

"What?!"

His eyes glinted a bit. "We make a good team."

I hesitated before speaking. "No, we don't. We aren't even a team yet." I heard a soldier's footsteps, and him and I hid in a corner.

Once the footsteps had faded, Cooper let out a quiet laugh. "We are to a team. I'm protecting you; you are protecting me."

I gazed at him for a long time before answering. Then I picked at my cuticles with my knife point, and said, "I guess... We sort of make a good team. We make an okay team."

We started walking down the hall again, and Cooper said, "We need to come up with a team name."

"Oh, no. No, no, no."

"Please?"

"No! What are you, ten?"

"Almost eleven."

"Stop joking." I scowled.

He poked me. "Okay, grump." His eyes lit up. "Wait! We could be the Tenners! Yeah, that's a good name."

"Stop shouting, Cooper. Anyway, that's a stupid name." I almost smiled, but I managed to keep my lips pressed in a tight line. "How old are you, anyway? I'm seventeen, if you must know."

"I told you. Almost eleven."

"Oh, shut up and be serious."

He sighed softly. "Seventeen."

"Thought so."

We walked in silence for a long time, hiding from guards, listening to our echoing footsteps.

"Um, Mandi?"

I didn't correct him. "Yes?"

"Uh..." He hesitated. "Thank you. For taking me with you."

I opened my mouth to shoot a sharp remark at him, but I thought better of it, and said quietly, "You're welcome." What I didn't tell him was that I was glad of his company--that I liked the sound of double footsteps, that it was nice to hear his voice.

I wasn't alone anymore.

deep in primal perceptions

soft mews interrupt

but the dragon barely moves

only raising an eyelid slightly

the creature is too insignificant

to make a decent meal

he continues

considering the power of flame

and all the cautionary uses thereof

then again,mew

mew mewl

a fuzzy face looks up

to the scaly toothy maw

that yawns long

and lets out a deep breath

the kitten makes a face

and sneezes

the bemused beast chortles

stretching claws

to pick it up high

the kitten has no fear

responding with an indignant

MEW!

the aged dragon considers

and places it by his sinewy tail

wrapping around the soft fur

then finishing considerations

he falls asleep to a subtle purr

The car's wheels ate gravel with a crunch. It was a Honda, a little civic built low to the ground. The rocks bounced off the metal like Pharisees stoning a flashy hooker.

She stared out the window. South Dakota flew by her on a flat horizon being steadily razed by cows. Rushmore was a distant hope advertised by faded billboards of dead men made immortal. The badlands were swirls of beautiful crooks and crannies a league down the highway, where they would do her no good.

The radio had become nothing but noise no matter what station she turned it to. She'd punched it off and let the silence buzz in her ears. It left her alone with her thoughts, which was almost worse than the music but necessary.

"I'm doing it for her."

The bobble-head dog glued to the dashboard nodded sympathetically.

"Look. I am. She's getting old. Nobody else is willing to come out here and help her."

It eyed her with a beady, mournful gaze.

"I would have been fine out there," she argued. "Denver's a good place. People get laid off all the time, I would have found something else."

She swerved the wheel and the dog shook its head reproachfully.

"Oh, shove it. It's two birds, one stone. I get help, she gets help. Nobody's the loser."

The car thumped over a rock. She cussed and the dog nodded hugely with great sarcasm.

"Man, fuck you. Everyone knows Chihuahuas have too much attitude."

She reached out and decapitated the poor thing, tossing its head on the passenger's seat. A mile down the road she grudgingly apologized and stuck it back on. Then she turned on the radio and flipped to some pop station so she could crank the volume and not miss anything by ignoring the lyrics.

It was night by the time she reached the hotel. It was an old relic from when people still believed in road tripping. Slamming the car into park, she hopped out and shut the door, staring upwards as a chill took to the air and made her breath a white mist. Just a little reminder that winter was chasing the heels of fall.

She left her baggage in the car. It was a statement. She didn't have to stay there. Everything was being done to help the old lady sitting in that dingy little office. This was all a charity effort offered by a Good Samaritan.

"You're so full of bullshit Sam," she muttered as she pushed the door open.

A bell over the eave chimed shrilly to announce her presence. Sam looked up at it hatefully as her great aunt hollered from the back, "Be right there, be right there!"

Out she came. Other than a few wrinkles and a few pounds, she looked like she always did. Her gray hair was yanked back in a bun so tight it looked painful. Her plump, five-foot one body was disguised under a print of faded pink roses. She wore lipstick to prove she had lips and silvery eyeshadow that made her look eccentric.

They regarded each other and Sam felt the pressure of a power struggle building.

"I told you I didn't need your help."

"You said you'd think about it. Two months ago. And it looks like you do anyway; there are no cars parked outside."

Synthia wrinkled her nose. "It's off season."

"Exactly. Off season. You've got dead season."

The old woman gave her a disgusted look. "And what are you going to do about it, then?"

"Well, fix your sign for starters. This is the REDWOOD motel, right? Your lights are so broken outside they just say R.O.O.D. Which is honest advertising I guess."

Synthia fumed. It took little imagination to see steam coming out of her ears. "I'm very gracious to my guests. I have no need for tramps."

Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm not a tramp."

"You are. Look at you. Covered in tattoos. Your hair's cut so short you look like a man. Your tits are falling out of your shirt."

Laughter bubbled up in Sam's chest. "Most people don't consider a tank-top whorish, Synth."

"Synth-ee-aah," she snarled, thin rip raising. She looked like an angry rat. "The least you could do is respect me on my property, Sam-anth-aaaaah."

She reached up and kneaded the space between her brows. She'd taken some Tylenol on the road, but it clearly hadn't been enough. "You want me gone? Fine. You should know your bills are so behind they've started calling Mike, though. They're hounding your own kid for cash because they're too embarrassed to tell you how bad it is."

Part of her felt bad for laying that on her, but it had to be done. She turned to go as the words took a second to simmer.

"Wait."

She did.

"Your father didn't raise you right."

"Mmmm," Sam hummed nasally.

"I brought him up good. Godly. Then he married your mother and she led him off the narrow road. Look what's come of it. He's raised a lesbian."

"I'm not a lesbian," Sam said dryly.

"You were in the army."

"National Guard. To pay for college. Jesus, woman, what's that got to do wi-"

"You will not!" Synthia roared, "Take the Lord's name in vain UNDER MY ROOF!"

Sam had had enough. She whipped towards Synthia and pressed her nose right up into the woman's face, watching her eyes widen in shock.

"Listen, sweetheart," she said lowly, "You want my help, I'll help you. But I got other prospects. I have things to do. Places to be. Now I'll respect your boundaries and play this thing as close to your wants as I can, but you've got to hold up your end. Be nice to me, I'll be nice to you. Treat your neighbor as you'd want yourself to be treated. As I recall, that's in your favorite book too."

She was floored. Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water and it was pretty obvious no one had stuck up to her that way before. It threw her off and Sam enjoyed it. She immediately decided it was worth it even if it meant getting kicked out before getting started.

The shock turned into a glower. Despite their height difference, somehow Synthia managed to look down on her. "Fine," she grated. "But don't you try to use my bible against me. That's the devil's way."

"Aye aye, cap'n. Where should I put my stuff?"

It took her three tries to get the card to register. She kept sliding it through the electronic scanner too fast. With shaking hands she passed it over. "Room 307," she said. "No smoking."

"I don't smoke."

The woman's 'yeah right' followed her through her eyes, boring into her shoulder blades as she walked back to her car.

Sam locked the door behind her once she was in the room. It was pointless to do but it felt right. Even after eight hours of being alone in the car, it was still bliss. The whole ordeal was going to be absolute hell. Already she was second-guessing her move, but she had to get away, just for a little while. Denver was painted with unpleasant memories. They lingered on street corners like old gargoyles. Charlie breaking up with her because she was away for months at a time. The hospital where cancer flogged her mom to death. It was time to change, to metamorphose and do some real soul-searching. To do that she had to breathe.

Walking to the wall, she took out a nail and her toolkit and hung her diploma up. A BS in interior architecture and design. The acronym was fitting. She'd landed more jobs from her electrical training in the Guard than from the degree, but they weren't the ones she wanted. Her heart wasn't in them. She wanted to make things beautiful.

"Because I don't feel beautiful myself," she said dramatically, pouting at her reflection in a nearby mirror. She laughed and took out a bottle of cheap red wine, pouring some into a glass and raising it in a toast. "To new beginnings and so on and so forth," she muttered. "Hurrah."

Flopping back on the bed, she knocked back a few swallows and pulled a face. She looked at a painting of Jesus on the wall cradling a lamb and smirked.

"Hey big guy. I hear you're really good with this stuff. Little help?"

Snorting at her own joke, she set the glass aside and kicked off her shoes. "Iiiii'm going to hell," she sang at the ceiling.

She didn't drift off until dawn was peeking through the dusty blinds.

Set in the Dreamworld of mine, where there is an Academy, an Arena, a Wintry rosie-shop, and a trio of love and hate that will change the world as they know it.

But before Julia-Anne Winchester came upon the Academy, the trio's foundation had already began with an unlikely partnership, a poisoned duet that foretold doom yet held a strange sense of a happy cadence.

This is how it all started.

______________________________________________________________

Emily Lyzsowa was born into a world of darkness. When she first opened her bright silver eyes, mind already full of pre-birth wisdom, she expected to be met with a blinding light and the happy sobs of a mother and a father.

What she didn't expect was to see nothing at all except a midnight black, to hear nothing except the chirps and growls of creatures that live in the dark.

She grew up in a forest, under the care of tribes of ravens and crows and wolves that were glued to her mystical aura.

It was as if she was darkness, wisdom, power, and beauty, all rolled into one.

Emily ended up attracting the attention of some travelers from the Academy and she was led into the Academy walls as a young queen, accompanied by her "family" of dark animals.

She was paired into Team 2, along with Marewyn Wanderer, Viola Darling, Everett Nero, and Sebastian les Eaux. With her teammates, she fought to the top of the social classes.

Emily soon gained a reputation for being powerful and manipulative, yet she could do almost anything.

People came to her for advice and to see the little forest prodigy who had mastered darkness from the moment of birth.

Emily thrived on this attention and praise, on fear and on love.

A twisted, dark creature she became.

A beautiful, wise creature she became.

And a powerful, malicious creature she became.

******

Leanne Orib was born into a world of humanity. She saw the blinding light, heard her parents' sobs of joy. She was a normal child, growing up under the care of a mother, father, and a nanny who took care of her when her parents were away on battles and missions.

Leanne grew up hearing stories of the Academy's founders, of the beasts that lurked outside the walls, of the mystical little Emily Lyzsowa that her parents visited so often, of the Academy's yearly tournaments.

She was smart, small, and average.

But her parents were not. They were legendary battlers who fought and vanquished magical beasts, who had laid down the cornerstones for the modern Academy.

The day her parents died while on a mission was Leanne's first visit to Emily Lyzsowa.

From the time she heard the news of the deaths to eternity, Leanne associated Emily with darkness. Bad luck, magic, mystery, attraction, lust, wisdom, power, and beauty were also words that came to mind. But darkness overshadowed them all.

Leanne stayed isolated after that, holed up in her room with countless books and computers. She developed her own weapons - a magical keyboard and game console, vowing to avenge her parents' death.

A smart, isolated girl she became.

***************

The day of Emily's first battle came. As predicted, it was to be held at Diamond Arena, the most popular and biggest arena in the Academy.

Emily had her fan and her black angel scythe (the wand was to come much later). She entered the arena amid cheers and gave her opponent a dark smirk. The whistle blew.

Emily laughed as she deflected attacks, "You've got to do better than that, kochanie!"

A few minutes later, her opponent was on the ground, beaten and sore.

The ref blew his whistle and the match was over.

As the crowd began to disperse, Emily walked over to her fallen opponent, a smirk on her face. "Cześć, kochanie. Leanne Orib."

Leanne didn't move.

Emily kneeled down and looked into her greenish eyes. "I greeted you." A cocky smirk grew on her face. "The right thing to do would be to greet me back, tak?"

Leanne hissed, "I don't care. Go away."

Emily melded her face into one of disappointment. Then she shrugged. "Kochanie, your parents were the ones who died, tak?"

Leanne's eyes hardened. "Yes. Now shut up and never talk to me again." She rolled around to her other side, back facing Emily.

Emily laughed lightly, the sounds like tinkling bells. "Your parents spoke to me before." She saw Leanne perk up and continued, "They said for me to help you."

Leanne frowned, "Help me?"

Emily's eyes grew dark. "They knew it would be their final mission. They told me to help you along the way when they wouldn't be there to help you." She smiled. "I intend to keep that promise."

Emily held out a hand. "Come with me, kochanie?"

Leanne narrowed her eyes, but took her hand and hauled herself up. "Fine."

And so began the poisoned duet that would eventually change the world as they knew it.

I fall into you

First...

...slightly

Then all at once

Yet I tell myself not to

As I'm falling

Because falling into you means losing myself

But I'm already lost

Never actually been found

And yet

...I continue

Because with you I feel

My pieces come together

My face smiles

My soul breathe

I feel.

And yet I don't know what I feel

Because i tell my mind to murmur

Wish it'd just shut up.

And yet you make it speak

You make it feel alive

Possibilities

I'd long given up on

And again I'm lost

Crawling

Because you aren't here

And I'm alone

I'm always living on brief moments

Short breathes of happiness

Never consistent

Never...

...free

I see him as I sit,

How cute.

His glasses, that combed forward hair,

As if the wind itself is behind him every step.

Just my size too, perfect.

Wonder how he feels about other guys?

What to say?

Will we meet again another day?

Will his sunrise pink lips ever grace my

Vision with their, full, slightly crusted beauty?

The beat goes on,

Billie Jean,

Wish he was my lover.

Why haven't I said anything?

The silent gazes that rebound off windows

And plastic and would surely pounce,

At a moments notice at my outward

Pick-up lines and menagerie eyebrows.

Maybe he's nervous too? Did he,

want to say something to me?

Maybe it's my eyes, or the downward curse Of my face screaming to the world,

I ain't that one to fuck with.

The bus goes on.

Damn.

Why didn't I say anything?

What a GLORIOUS future I had envisioned For the two of us,

He had a nice butt too.

I wonder if he even noticed me sitting there.

The guy in the black with the sharp,

Hard stare.

I'll probably never know, and he'll

Probably be just another daydream.