Author's Notes: Hello, dear readers. This is my first story on Fictionpress. After having a miraculous dream (yes, much like how Stephenie Meyer had for Twilight), I came up with a plot. So do leave me your comments and review if you'd like me to continue!

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Silver Teardrops

By chrissytingting

The darkness hung like a black cloak over the cities. A gust of frosty, bitter wind caressed the stone slabs that smothered the ground. Winter had brought another fresh layer of snow, and the snowflakes now drifted to the ground gracefully, shimmering like beads of silver.

Jezebel peered out of the thick, glass panes. A slender and pale hand reached forward, lightly tracing patterns on the window. The glass bit at her finger, coldness seeping into the warmth of her index finger almost greedily, and a thin sheen of frost had settled itself on her skin. Her hand almost seemed to have a glowing aura in the darkness, ominously pale and nearly white compared to the black, lightless room.

It was a small room with a wooden desk that was leaning towards one side. A small twin-sized bed was pushed carelessly against the wall. The bed frame was creaky, the white paint chipping off to reveal dry, brown wood that was seemed to be cracking.

Intelligent sapphire eyes flickered out to the debilitating wind. The wind was howling now, as if an angered animal that had just broken free of a cage. There were small, flickering specks of orange candlelight visible in the other townhouses that lined the street, all of them nearly identical: dark, murky, and shapeless.

Her bedroom door was suddenly swung open with a loud bang, a silhouette of a rather large lady standing under the doorframe.

The woman stepped through the threshold, and in the minimal light, you could see her imposing figure. She was tall with a square-shaped face and thick wrists, and her mousy brown hair was tied into a strict bun above her head. With her arms on her wide hips, the woman stood in front of Jezebel, her green eyes glaring and flashing with hostility.

"Get out, you imbecile. I have guests tonight, and I don't need filth like you lurking around the hallways and dirtying the ground," the woman hissed, eyes narrowing dangerously.

Jezebel bit her lip, gnashing her teeth together before standing up stiffly. She walked towards the doorway, never once daring to look away from the woman who was glowering at her. As if any guests would come at this condition of weather, Jezebel thought harshly, daring to send a withering look that could've pierce daggers through the other female's skin.

"Don't give me that grubby look," the woman hollered, waving her arms wildly. She grabbed the collar of Jezebel's plain, black shirt and shook the poor girl, lifting her off the ground. Jezebel's sleek, black hair whipped forward before falling back, successfully hiding her face. "I take you into this house, give you shelter, clothe you, feed you, and provide you with all other provisions and yet you stand here as an ungrateful bitch!"

Jezebel's teeth rattled as the woman shook her violently once again. The girl clenched her fists. "I apologize, Missus Mage," she hissed through her teeth. She was plopped back down to the ground unceremoniously as Missus Mage stood towering over her.

"You better be, girl. I've spent a great deal of money on you. If not for the town insisting that the filthy street-beggars had to be taken off the streets, you'd be right back to where you started," Mrs. Mage spat viciously, a glob of spit landing on the floor. "Now get out before I hurl you out the window."

Jezebel immediately got up and scurried towards the front door, nearly yanking the knob off of the door when she left in such a haste. Mrs. Mage wasn't kidding when she threatened to throw her out the window. She knew that from experience. Not only had Mrs. Mage gotten angry with her in the first place, but the woman had also grumbled on about having to call the doctor to get the glass pieces out of Jezebel's skin and having to repair the window.

The cold wind immediately enveloped her as she stumbled down the icy steps and into the bleak, deserted streets. Everyone was at home, enjoying a warm fireplace and the company of their families. Everyone was hiding from the cold, laughing and eating feasts in their warm houses. Everyone but her.

Missus Mage had taken in Jezebel after the town had decided to do something about the countless poor people who lived on the streets. The town council had paid people to invite the unfortunate into their houses and provide the basic necessities. In turn, the poor would help with the household chores.

Now, Mrs. Mage wouldn't simply take in some 'filthy beggar' for the 'good of her own heart'. No, the townsmen had to visit her and demand for her to take someone in because Missus Mage was a widow, living all by herself. They had offered to double the sum of money, and being the greedy woman that she was, she agreed.

In some way, Jezebel could understand Mrs. Mage's hostility. She didn't want someone else in her house, for God's sake! But then again, Mrs. Mage never tried for kindness, never gave Jezebel a chance to redeem herself. It wasn't Jezebel's fault that she lived on the streets! Her parents had abandoned her at a young age, and with no relatives left to turn to, Jezebel had been welcomed to the street people.

Jezebel shivered in the winter air, the black shirt and black pants barely doing any good against the wind. The wind-chill factor is a component of the weather in which wind decreases body temperature rapidly, making the air feel much colder than it actually is, her teacher's voice echoed in her mind. The town had also claimed that all people under the age of nineteen was required to go to school. Jezebel, being eighteen, included.

She didn't understand why, but for some odd reason, Jezebel was drawn to the outside. Despite being freezing, she loved the air against her skin. She was cold, there was no doubt about that, but she reveled in being… free. The ominous shadows that were shaped like phantoms didn't bother her. The icy roads didn't bother her.

There was a distant gunshot, and Jezebel's head immediately snapped up. Gunshot? What in the name of…?

Another yell accompanied it, and then a scream pierced the air.

She froze, unable to move from her spot in the middle of the road. Her sapphire eyes were wide and shocked, and Jezebel stood there, immobile, unable to get the willpower to move her muscles.

There had been news lately. Rumors had spread like wildfire that there had been some killings nearby, and that it was a gang of people against another. It had been right outside of town, in the majestic indigo mountains and rolling hills and shadowy forests. Jezebel had once sat, perched above a boulder that marked the border of the town's land, and stared at the wild lands. They were so beautiful in the daylight.

The lands were known as 'Hades' Code'.

However beautiful in the day, the mountains and hills and forests all shifted at night. There was a sizzle of… something in the air. It was magical. The lands were enigmatic and obstructed, as if hiding an enormous secret that was right there, dangling in front of the people's faces, but never figured out.

It was named 'Hades' Code' because of the quiet murmurs and enchanting voices that could be heard at night, as if the dead souls awakening (and therefore gaining the first word 'Hades').

Jezebel remembered how a brave man had once entered Hades' Code on a foolish expedition for gold. He was found dead later, a nasty slash across his heart, blood oozing steadily from the wound into a stream that bordered them on the east.

Months later, a trio of two men and one woman went on an exploration to try to solve the mysterious Hades' Code. A day later, one man had a bullet through his eye, the woman was found with a sword's puncture through her neck, and the last man…

The last man was found dead without any sign of injury.

Not one scratch was on his body. Not one sign of a single scab. He was just… dead.

Jezebel took a deep breath. Her hand wandered instinctively to the back pocket of her corduroy pants, feeling the outline of a mini pocketknife. She had stolen it from the market one day when she lived on the streets, thinking it as a 'just in case' precaution. Never had she ever thought that she would ever use it.

There was a suspenseful silence. No relief came with it… it wasn't over. Life seemed to be held be a string, a thin silver line of timelessness. For a split second, the wind ceased its rage, and snowflakes hung, moving inch by inch, in midair.

A body abruptly cut across her vision and launched at her, pining her down to the frosty stone ground. A hand smothered her mouth, muffling her scream, and the lean body of a male hovered over her.

Jezebel thrashed and squirmed, a hand trying to reach her knife, but was unsuccessful. The cold continued to seep its way through her clothes, making her shiver from the ice and sleet.

"Goddamnit, stop moving," the person hissed in her ear, sounding irritable and annoyed. It was a bass voice, low and mature, but she could tell that this man could only be at most twenty, if not nineteen.

"If you ever so make a single peep I swear, I will kill you. Once I let you up, don't you dare run; I will catch you if you try." Jezebel felt the pressure lessen from the joints on her body, and she immediately pushed herself off the ground, sweeping a hand to her back pocket to grasp the pocketknife.

The man before her was strangely mesmerizing and animalistic as he stood before her. His hair was as if a crown of silver in the night, so impossibly white-blonde that it was nearly completely white. Impeccable silver eyes were watching her silently, calculating, and pale skin, even paler than her own, glowed in the darkness. He was at least six foot three, if not taller, and he completely dwarfed her.

Jezebel spied a sword's sheath by his hip, the emerald hilt of the sword peeking out from his black cloak. Surprisingly well dressed, she wondered how she had not ever noticed a man like him around town.

"We must leave," he finally spoke, his voice… soft and silken. It was beautiful and melodic, and it enthralled her with even only those three words. He reached forward and grabbed her thin, bony wrist and urged her forward.

"I… I have to go home!" Jezebel exclaimed, pulling her arm away from him. "My… my family waits for me! I must leave… but… I…" she stuttered through her lie. Family? That distasteful woman? It was the worst lie she had ever told.

The man stared at her calculatingly. "You won't be able to reach your home fast enough," he said slowly, as if speaking to a five-year-old. "It's too far away, and the men are gaining speed as we speak. You will leave with me if you value your life."

"What men?" Jezebel hissed, as he increased pressure on his hold on her wrist. She tried to yank her arm away, but to no avail.

"The people that kill, of course," the mystery man answered. "Unless you'd rather die, I suggest you leave with me now. If you want to stay here, please, be my guest. But I'm not going to wait out my suicide with you."

There was suddenly a loud, shattering gunshot that was startlingly near. A flash of blue light lit the town for a mere second before fading, voices shouting at each other from place to place.

Author's Notes: So yes, that's the first chapter of this new story! It's rather short, but I just wanted to get it going first. I'm hoping to have many readers and reviewers; I'm not one to be able to encourage myself to keep on writing, if you get my drift. I promise for romance later!

Hades: Latin form of the Greek Hadēs, meaning "unseen". In mythology, this is the name of the God of the Underworld, brother of Zeus and husband of Persephone. In the New Testament bible, 'Hades' is associated with Orcus, the realm of the dead, the infernal regions where disembodied spirits live, and a dark and dismal place in the depths of the earth. Only later was 'Hades' describe as the grave, death, and hell.