Author's Brief Note: I want to say this before I have another person not read on past this chapter because they are confused with what is happening. This chapter is a dream. It is confusing, yes. Please read on to chapter two before deciding the story is a vortex of entropy and is not worth precious reading time. This chapter will make more sense later. So please keep reading, reviewing, and enjoying. I promise it will be a treat.

Fire and Ice

Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I've tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.

- Robert Frost

Prologue

He could not breathe. This was his first thought as his eyes sprang to life and he found himself engulfed in a dark liquid. His mouth opened with a gasp and only plump bubbles escaped, floating up like mocking angels. Arms flailing he could not reach or feel anything. He was in a void of nothingness – a void of frozen nothingness. The water was painfully cold and pierced every inch of his body with thin sharp needles. He needed to get out. Panic spiked him so fiercely and he tried to kick, tried to kick his legs so violently, but they were numb and unable to move. Throat constricting, another gasp for air escaped him and water burst into his lungs. He flailed terrifically as it seemed water would soon consume his insides as well. Black dots danced across his vision and he slowly grew lightheaded. His fingers still latched out but it felt helpless. Iciness was freezing his body and the black dancing dots looked so inviting. His eyes began to close.

Then he heard somewhere a great splash, and he felt his body being lifted out with an immense strength that surely beat his own. Then there was a rush of air. Air so fresh that his lips ripped open and commenced to sputter out every molecule of unwelcome water. The sun burned down on him with heat. Choking and retching, he was yanked across the surface. His vision was entirely blurred, and he was thrashing out but his rescuer did not seem to care or notice. His lungs stung and the unbearable coldness spiked him with sharp needles.

Finally his body fell flat onto a rough surface and he writhed while trying to spit up the entire ocean within his stomach. The water never seemed to leave him, and nearby the invisible somebody merely watched as he squirmed in the dirt. Though soon enough he felt he was dry inside. Every part of him ached wretchedly, but he felt that he was not so wet anymore. That’s when his body drifted to the ground and he felt exhausted enough to rest his eyes. His breath was slow and arduous.

However, a clear and high voice spoke out nearby and his eyes peeled opened immediately. “Sebastian?” The voice was as pure as gold and had spoken his name with such reverence.

Trembling and groaning, he struggled to sit up. His whole body was shivering and he took a deep breath before glancing upward. His eyes widened in shock. It was a girl who sat before him – a girl with such a tremendous beauty that he felt his bottom lip drop open and quiver. She was covered in an almost sheen of white light, and this light scorched the dark deadness around them. Yet she had a strange exquisiteness. Her hair and skin were as white as an oleander flower and her eyes were a violet deeper than twilight. She was slight of build and her thin limbs appeared terribly breakable. Her simple, shredded periwinkle gown – oversized and baggy – draped her frame. The gown, now sopping wet, was sheer enough that he could she her apple shaped breasts heaving as she breathed in and out ever gently. How had she pulled him from the waters? There was no way. She was so unbelievably small and angelic. A blush suddenly rose to his cheeks as he noticed that he was staring at those supple breasts moving up and down. Impossible!

And quite unknowingly as they sat there staring at each other with curious eyes, the air picked up her odor – a scent so foreign and obscene that he recoiled against the smell drifting his way. It was not a fragrance he had smelled often or ever if that, and when she saw his recoil, she leaned toward him as his lip curled into disgust. The smell was overpoweringly sweet yet dangerous.

Leaning and leaning, she brought up her hands that had been grasping tightly to the end of her dress – crumbling and wrinkling the wet ends. These pale hands she placed softly upon the filth-ridden ground and she began to crawl toward him ever so slowly like a feline ready to pounce its prey. His heart pounded against his chest, but he had nowhere to go. The water behind him was already sloppily licking at his fingers and it was hungry. So there he sat, trapped with his heart beating and crying, knowing that it had nowhere to go. Her eyes were like venom on his skin as her fingers reached for his knees, where she rested them tenderly, sending a shiver throughout his skeleton. The smell was overpowering him and he felt sure he was going to vomit.

Slowly, her calm hand crept like a spider up to his icy cheek; the hairs on the back of his neck rose and when the fleshy tips of her fingers landed, a jolt rushed through him and her touch burned. Her hand was on fire, and being near, her scent pummeled him and he tumbled – his head crashing into the water and hitting the jagged rocks. Dots sprang back into his sight, and there he laid – water splashing against his cheeks with crude laughter while his head throbbed. Her violet eyes watched him with eagerness and then she edged atop him, pressing her weight against his entire body until she had crawled comfortably atop him and pinned his arms. He could not even struggle against her strength as she lightly smiled at him. Her eyes were mere centimeters from his, and with one breath that he had to finally take in, her scent ripped through his nostrils, slashing his insides. The pain seemed to never end. His body ached and ached, screaming her to be gone. But her beauty was irresistible and her body felt soft against his coarse skin.

Then she leaned ever nearer and he felt her silk eyelashes brush against his as she blinked, and her measured and strong voice, barely audible, gushed out at him. “Do you smell the white chrysanthemum? Or is it the aconite that you smell?”

What? His head swam. The smell was spinning his head. Her face twirled before his vision. What were these things? Chrysanthemums, aconite – what the hell were they, and what was she talking about?! His insides were on fire and his cheek burned beneath her palm. He was going insane. He needed the scent to leave!

Struggling beneath her, he could not lift her. She was so light yet he could not lift her. And as she smiled at him it turned into a sneer in his mind and it outraged him! Why would she not get off? Did she not know how maddening her smell was? He shut his eyes against it – silently praying.

A disappointed hum issued from behind her lips. “Your answer is important.” Her voice was eerie and insistent. “Please! Which one?” As if unable to wait, she pressed her body against his and he could feel the clockwork thud of her heart against his chest and his body grew rigid and stony against hers. He was frozen. Fear and panic and the scent were suffocating him.

“Wha – what?” he breathed out, choking.

“Choose!” she hissed.

His eyes flicked open. That’s when he saw. Her lips, almost brushing against his, were starkly crimson. And this color, this color bore into his mind. They were the color of blood. Blood so rich and thick that it was like golden honey. And this color, he could not take his eyes off of it. Why could he not remove his eyes? And all the while he heard her persistent voice nagging at him to answer. Yet he could not remember what she had asked. His mind was clouded by this crimson, and her voice was only beneath it, buried in its thickness. Though slowly her voice and the color began to mingle until it became a deafening roar in his head. It had to stop. He shouted the only option he could remember. “ACONITE!”

A silence ushered the dark skies, and she shuffled atop him – lifting her body to a sitting position. “Is that so?” The violet in her eyes quaked and darkened one entire shade. And atop him she began to rock, as if his answer had caused a great turmoil within her. She whispered the word under her breath repeatedly: aconite, aconite, aconite, aconite . . . her eyes stared up at the black skies; they would not look at him.

And he watched her, and his eyes could not now leave her plump lips, the color of blood. And he thought he felt his own blood pounding inside him. And the smell seemed to mix with his maddened fixation upon her blood lips. They seemed one and the same. And this thought churned over and over in his mind – boiling and bubbling inside him. And why would she not look at him? He had answered her ridiculous question! Why would she not look at him? And the blood – it was maddening. The smell – it was maddening. And the heat emanating from her body was maddening. AND WHY? Why would she not look at him?! Anger erupted in him – an anger that split him apart. A low growl grumbled in his throat – building and building and building until a vicious snarl ruptured from his mouth.

Her eyes snapped down to him and she only looked at his bared teeth with one slightly raised eyebrow. And this simple questioning thing – this raised eyebrow – enticed him more, and as he opened his mouth, her smell penetrated his taste buds this time. A hunger roared inside him. And looking at that red, the two connected and a pain so unbearable tore apart his insides. The pain was excruciating. A smile rose on her lips. His body twisted beneath hers, and then suddenly, as if she were as light as a feather, he found himself atop her. His breath was ragged and gruff.

The smile on her lips mocked his anger and she almost looked upon him with doting eyes as his own glared down upon her. The hunger snarled and a beastly growl fell out of his lips. And suddenly she seemed too delicious. And his body longed for her. Longed for his tongue to lash against her smooth, slender neck. It was the smell and the color and the hunger and . . . he could no longer make excuses. His stomach grumbled, and he knew what it wanted. She would not deny him. He had answered.

And she was lifting her body to his, but his hand lashed out, grabbing her head and pushing her down in the dirt. And as his palm covered those brilliant violet portals, they opened. Her pearly whites flashed at him. “You chose aconite. And so it shall be.” Infuriated, his nails dug down and punctured her forehead, drawing blood that oozed out and slid slowly down the side of her face. The blood stained her pureness. And he roared inside as her smile remained.

“Come then,” she whispered, her trembling fingers reaching up and pulling his head down to caress her neck. The scent snaked all over his body and he trembled with anticipation and horror. Yet the hunger only heightened. “Do it.”

His jaw unhinged and his mouth opened wide. And as his teeth sank into her soft flesh, her delicious blood spilled across his tongue as if a dam had ruptured. A purr drummed inside him and the blood abated everything. It was luscious and his head sang with joy.

As her nectar flowed into him, his body was taken over with want. He wanted all of her and as a moan dropped helplessly from her lips, his hand scooped the small of her back and pressed her body into his and his other hand slid up her gown – feeling every square inch of her luscious body. Was this passion or was this just bloodlust? He could not separate the two and his hunger drove him on, until her body was pressed so fiercely into his that she let out a small cry which only made him sink his teeth in deeper. The delectable blood now surged down his throat. He thought he would scream with the pleasure of it.

But it came too quickly. The blood thinned and he felt her body falling limp beneath his hands. When finally he pulled away, he looked at the harsh puncture marks on her neck and waterfalls of blood that slimed down her neck. Like a cat drinking milk, he lapped it all up before he tore himself away and stared at her empty, dead eyes. There was nothing there – not emotion. Yet when his eyes searched her face, he saw the serene smile still plastered there and a dreadful horror gripped him.

He wrenched his hands away – her body dropping with a soft thud on the ground. His eyes grew huge as he stared at the lifeless corpse. Then the tremors began again, and his scream tore apart the black sky.