A/N: Okay, this happens after MotD; like.a month or so after. Just a short story that reveals a little more about Sorlo's past. It was inspired by a couple of songs; well, I had the idea, the songs just helped me fine- tune it. ReadReviewEnjoy!

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It was a clear night, with a full, bright moon smiling down upon the earth. A perfect night.

The dark figure looked about, then ran from the shadows of the forest to the shadows of the manor. A smirk tugged at his lips; maniacal, yet completely and utterly sane.

He climbed the wall with cat-like speed and grace; it wasn't very tall. Grabbing the sill of the window he had been heading for, he heaved himself up, then perched upon the sill for a moment. Gathering his bearings from the shadows on the walls, he jumped in and, landing soundlessly, crept down the corridor.

Opening the door silently, he prowled in and shut it, creeping over to the bed where his prey lie, asleep. He smirked, darkness playing with his features, covering his eyes with a black nothing.

"Well, this won't be much fun if I don't play with him a little first." Unsheathing his dagger, he tapped it against the sleeping man's cheek, then grinned savagely in his face as he awoke.

"Greetings, Lord Catanci. Call for your guards and die."

The man quickly shut his mouth, trembling in terror.

"That's better. Now, would you like to die, hm?"

"Buh-- but you just said I wouldn't duh--die."

"No-o, I said if you called for your guards you would die. I never said you would live if you didn't."

Moonlight glistened off the sweat upon the quivering man's brow; he groped for words, then went deathly still as the youth pressed his blade to the lord's throat. Then the boy chuckled darkly and lowered the blade, only to grab the front of the distressed lord's nightshirt and yank him upright.

"No thrashing now. I want this to be nice and clean." The mellow voice of the teenage boy was calm and mocking. The dagger swung up, then down in a gleam of light; stabbing once, twice, three, four times in succession, and a few more, almost as an afterthought.

The youth smirked and released the cloth of the shirt, and the dead nobleman fell back onto the bed, eyes dull and filled with fear. The white sheets slowly darkened, absorbing the blood flowing freely from multiple wounds across the lord's chest. The teenager scrambled gracefully off the bed and stood in front of the window, pleased at the effect of his silhouette cast upon the body of the man who now slept forever in his bloody berth.

An unseen figure had watched silently up to this point, motionless in the doorway. But as the shadow fell upon the still form, a girl rushed into the room, running to her father. She slammed into his bed then stopped, staring at his face, the eyes that would never again blink. Turning her gaze onto his killer, she screamed.

The boy jerked, as if knocked out of a trance. Raising the bloody dagger to his eyes, a horrified look came upon his face, and he dropped the dagger as the distraught girl screamed again.

"Murderer!!! MURDERER!!!!!"

Running footsteps approached the dark room holding the shrieking maiden, the stunned youth, and the dead man.

Backing away from the bed, the dropped dagger, and the girl, the boy bumped into a bedside table. This jerked him out of his shock, and he turned and ran, jumping out of the window to the ground below, the darting off into the Grand Forest, becoming one of many shadows once more.

(Inspired by Linkin Park: 'Hit the Floor' & Linkin Park: 'Easier to Run')

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I watched him for a while, before walking up. He was a rather slight teenage boy, slender build, soft brown hair tied up in ponytail, dressed in plain clothes and no shoes. A pensive expression was settled upon his delicate young face as he sat in the branches of the willow, occasionally scribbling in a small red leather book.

As I approached, he sighed and leaned back against the trunk of the tree, closing his eyes. Then he spoke, rather loudly, his voice mild and somewhat bored.

"If you're going to attack me, please make your attempts quickly and leave. I'm not really in the mood to be bothered."

My rich voice was slightly unsuited for my appearance; waist-length, deep brown hair tied up in a long ponytail high on my head, pale features dulled by the creamy dress I wore.

"Do I look like I'm here to fight, Sorlo Ravenwing?" I replied, not showing the dagger at my belt.

"Not really, but you give the air of one who wants to. Besides," he opened his eyes and glanced at me in a sideways fashion, "I've learned that looks are deceiving. Kindly hand over the weapon at your side."

Leaving the small red book, Sorlo leapt down from his perch and looked me over, holding out his hand expectantly. Startled, I stammered, "I..I don't.. don't have a weapon."

"Nonsense. You know my name, and I doubt it's for a good reason." His hand shot out and snatched my dagger. Ignoring my indignant gasp, he looked me over, stormy dark gray eyes peering into mine before darting down to the blade. "Hm. I know this blade. Do I know you?"

I glared at him darkly. "No, but I think you knew my father."

Sorlo blinked at me in a rather bewildered manner. Then he stepped back a few paces, grabbed one of the branches of the willow, and swung up into the one he had previously been sitting on. Dangling his legs, he looked at me with a different expression as he tucked the blade he had dropped three years ago into his sash. He looked at me with sadness.

"Your father. Lord Catanci. Am I right?"

I nodded.

He sighed, apparently annoyed with himself. "So you were the person who saw me, the screaming girl."

I nodded again.

"Dammit, I'm sorry. I expected it to be a clean job, no witnesses."

"Did you get paid well for your trouble?" I was curious, but still angry from all those years ago.

"Hells no. I'm not like that."

My rage flared and I spat spitefully at him, "Yeah, you're just one of those people who kill for no reason."

Sorlo stared at my sharply and intently, his stormy gaze extremely unnerving. I felt like he was reading my soul; that he knew I had hunted him down, searched for his entire life story for three years; held this grudge, this anger, till I had wanted to kill. I lowered my eyes nervously, completely unraveled.

"Wrong. I despise killing. That was for revenge. Your father killed my father."

He blinked twice and lowered his head. "I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt you, or anyone else. Please, just go." He lay out upon the thick branches, staring up at its leaves and what sky he could see.

"Just go."

What else could I do? I left.