Prologue

The moon in the sky painted the perfect picture. Moonbeams cascaded down into a clearing surrouned by everwoods, where a boy could be seen seen mixing paints in front of a blank canvas. He waited quietly once his paints were mixed, for the perfect picture needed to be painted at the perfect moment.

As he waited, back against the trunk of an old oak, one such as myself couldn't help but think that he painted the perfect picture as well... silver blond hair shone dimly as crystal blue eyes looked about the clearing once again. Nervously, he fingered the heart locket around his neck; a gift to him from his mother.

Just as he was about to give up, the moment came. A dewy mist started to shimmer against the grasses, and into the clearing walked a girl. The girl. She cast the boy a careless glance before she dropped her pack. Digging through it, she pulled out swords and daggers of all kinds. She stabbed them viciously into the ground once agter another, until they all made a semi circle around her...

Except for four.

The last for she took great care in placing. She paced along the remaining section of the circle, measuring equal distances first with her eyes then with her feet. She thrust a small stiletto into the ground carefully before checking her measuring again, and thrusting another into the ground.

Two swords were next, taking even longer to place.

Then she noticed the boy painting.

"Child," she hissed at him. He looked up at her and smiled. "Your not supposed to be here. Leave."

"I shall only be a few minutes," he returned to his painting, unaware of the daggers glared at him.

Trying to ignore him, she concentraited back on the swords around her. She calmed her body and soul, making mortal movements as she willed her chi to pump faster and stronger.

The boy's paintbrush dashed across the canvas in dim greens and blues, colouring each handle their own special hues. He stared at the girl as her black and blue 'tiger hair' tossed around her from it's long pony tail like a whip.

He wondered what she would look like if she smiled... if she would let her long hair out to frame her thin face and crimson eyes. For a moment, he wondered what it would be if she loved him. If her cheeks glowed with radiance from child birth and her eyes shone with secrets only lovers share...

But alas, it would never happen.

He waited patiently for her to move again, weilding her arms around her as if she were weilding one of her many swords. She paused, taking slow, deep breaths, and his paintbrush came to life again.

He knew his perfect picture, his masterpiece, would never look right in his own eyes, not even if he spent months pouring over his sketches and memories. Never would it compare to the real thing... never would it compare to her beauty.

When he looked up again he realised she hadn't moved, only to open her ruby eyes and glare at him.

"Why are you still here?" she hissed between gritted teeth.

"I'm painting a masterpiece," he explained, his brush never stopping. "It shall be known far and wide as the most beautiful portrait ever... you'll be known as-"

"I'll be known for nothing!" her eyes flashed dangerously as she abanded her practice, taking long strides to stand infront of him. "No one must know who I am boy, it's against the rules of the Riders!"

"The Riders... who are they?" he asked slowly as he stood, canvas forgotten. "What are their rules?"

"I'm at no liberty to say," she said pointedly, crossing her arms over her chest, looking away. "Besides, you are a stranger, a-"

"I am Eros," he interrupted, stepping forwards to take her hand. She stepped back. "Eros from Vivian with Kai. There, now I am no stranger."

"Yet I am one to you," she muttered.

"Then be introduced," he promted, stepping closer again. He placed a hand on her arm, stilling her. "Speak your name, or must I simply call you maiden?"

She didn't answer him, only backed herself away from his touch and returned to her swords. She started to pull them from the ground, placing them one by one back into the many compartments of her pack.

"Where are you going?"

"That is no business of yours," she said loudly. "Isn't the business of anyone outside of the Faithe."

"Faith?" Eros stepped forwards behind him, gripping tightly at his locket. "What is the faith?"

"Fay-th-ay!" she almost screamed, pronoucing each syllable as she turned to look at him. Her face shone with moment frustration that was quickly schooled into anger. "The Faithe of the Riders. And stop asking pesky questions boy, it's none of your business!"

"But-"

"But nothing!" she glared even more at him.

"Please, maiden," he sighed. An idea came to him... "May I please paint your picture? I can give you a small reward..."

"I ask for nothing," she growled.

"What about this?" Eros asked desperately, unclasping the locket from around his neck. He held it up, the moonlight reflecting off of it's silver surface. The single clear stone embedded in it's middle glowed with a moments radiance, before dimming to a weak glow. He saw rather then heard her gasp in awe at the simple piece of jewelry, and grinned to himself. "Is that a yes?"

Her hand raised as if to grab the necklace, and he lowered it so that it grazed across her palm; The pressure seemed to snap her back to some sense of reality though, for she flinched away as if struck. She glared. No words were spoken as she turned on her heel and left the clearing.

Eros just watched.