Author's Notes:

With this story, I would like feedback on things I should change. I know it says Chapter 2, but this is my character's entry. My friend is handling the first chapter herself. Its a fun collaborative effort between the two of us.

REVIEW!!

Chapter 2

Something shimmered dimly in the distance. I gazed ahead and squinted to try and obtain a better view of what this was. It wasn't working. I took one step ahead.

"Who is she?" The question resounded throughout the walls as if it had come from some voice, yet unseen. I knew it was no one's but my own.

"Who was I?" Another step, another question. I wondered briefly why this one was spoken in past tense.

Step.

"Where am I going?"

Step. The voice was getting nearer.

"What am I doing here?"

Step. I could now see the glow much more clearly. I was now squinting, not to improve my sight of the light, but to shield my eyes from it.

"Why have I let go?"

Now the voice sounded like it was over my left shoulder. I froze in place, and within a split second of stopping, I reached for my sword and spun to face my stalker. I froze again, this time from shock. Not only was there no one behind me, but also when I went to draw my weapon, I was eerily greeted by an empty sheath.

It was at this time that I noticed the silence. Death resided here. This much was obvious. All that could be heard was the sound of my deep breathing. A chill ran down my spine, and suddenly the carbon dioxide leaving my body was visible. Something was wrong here. Terribly wrong. I could feel the blood pulsing through my veins yet. I was not dead yet.

I looked up at the end opposite of the shimmering glow, and was hit by a barrage of images. I saw cloaked figures, moving about the village as if they floated. Their gracefulness was as unmatched as their desire to kill. In the next second, the image of one of a spinning blade hit me, and I gasped for air. It felt as if a hurlbat had been lodged in my chest. I clutched my breast and looked towards where the wound should be. A crimson river flowed from my fingertips, down my torso. I gagged in horror. Something in my subconscious told me that I'd seen battle and gore before on numerous occasions. Even my own blood. But this. This was so much more. I had been fatally wounded.

I fell down to my knees as the pain pulsed through my body in waves. I tried to push it back. Ignoring this was the only thing that would get me through it. Then I heard something else. A woman was crying out.

"Caaaaaeeeeeelll!" That single word was filled with so much sorrow. And yet it was laced with compassion. I stared down at my hand, a single tear falling from my eye. There was only ever one person I'd cried for.

My head lifted back up and I closed my eyes as I felt a hand come to rest on my forehead for just a brief second before it seemed to be yanked off. The sensation was breathtaking. I gasped yet again for air like it was the first breath I'd ever taken. The blood that covered my upper body was being drawn back into my being, and the wound healed itself. I sat in amazement at the phenomenon that had just occurred.

The next thing I knew, I was unconscious. After what seemed like days, my eyes slowly opened, being welcomed back to the world by the sunlight. I stood slowly, checking my body for wounds. Nothing to be found upon inspection of the lower half of myself. I wrapped one hand around the steel handle that had been wrapped in leather, and pulled. The hurlbat came out of my chest with no effort whatsoever. I looked around at the result of the chaos that had transpired here.

All was silent, save for the sound of my breathing.