Author's Note: A small section from an old piece of writing. I dislike the rest of the story, but I still like this bit, so I uploaded it. It works on it's own, more or less.


Elsewhere, in a field of flowers underneath the moon, a girl danced. Her pale cream dress twirled circles around her, creating a wind that whipped fallen petals into the air. Flowers were crushed beneath her bare feet and her long, chestnut brown hair trailed out behind her, caught in its own wild dance. Her dark, tanned skin seemed to sparkle beneath the moonlight, as did her blue eyes.

She spun across the field, the petals dancing behind her to form a rainbow of colours. They settled softly back to the ground, creating a blanket of petals and the girl continued her circular dance around the field. Quietly, she hummed a soft tune, timing it to the rhythm of her dance.

In the middle of her circle of dance, the moonlight reflected off a pool of fresh blood, a dark crimson beneath the moonlight. In this pool a man was lying, dressed in a white sacrificial robe and breathing his last breaths. The dagger, freshly covered in the man's blood, was also crimson in the night.

Suddenly, the girl stopped her dancing, and looked to the sky. A faint ripple travelled across the stars, originating from the moon. She ran to the dying man and knelt down next to him. Placing her hands lightly on his chest, she leant down and whispered to him. "Relax," she said, "it will all be over soon. He is coming."

The man had lost too much energy to respond. She stood up and swiftly pulled the dagger from his chest, spraying blood over the flowers. He gasped silently. It was his last breath.

Once more, the girl began to dance, waltzing across the field. Where the man's blood flowed, crimson flowers bloomed, the colour of blood. The flowers touched by the blood also turned a dark crimson.

The dancer looked once more to the sky. Ripple after ripple disturbed the soft fabric of the stars, like a rock dropped in a pond. From the centre of these ripples, a Demon appeared as a dark silhouette against the moon. He looked down at the girl, and held his hands out, beckoning her towards him. She started to slowly float upwards, towards his outstretched hand. She held her hand out, dropping the knife in the process and reached upwards towards the floating Demon. He took her hand in his, and pulled her close towards him, wrapping his hands around the lower part of her back. She wrapped her hands lightly around his neck, and together they danced in the sky, two dark silhouettes contrasted by the brightness of the moon.

The long tail of his crimson shirt floated behind him, as did her cream dress as they twirled through the sky. His shirt was only buttoned halfway up his chest, leaving the top of his torso bare. His pants matched his shirt in colour, as did his eyes, sharp, yet compassionate at the same time. His hair, short and trimmed, matched the blackness of his two leathery wings.

"Tell me Sylvia," he said and lowered his head to softly kiss the side of her neck. She leant her head to the side, and a soft sigh escaped her body. She moved her hands lower down his back, and leant her head on his shoulder. In response, he moved his hands higher, and ran them through her hair. "What have you been dreaming?" he finished his sentence.

"I've been dreaming of a man, my Lord Davian," she answered him, speaking softly, "a strange man, not of this world."

"Please, tell me more," Davian pressed on, spinning her through the sky in their magical dance.

"He comes to me," Sylvia sighed as his fingers gently ran through her hair, "unsure of himself, of his reality. He is sure of only one thing though, what he's doing is right."

"And what is it he is doing?" he asked, bending her backwards and leaning over her.

"He says he has come to save this world," she answered, looking into his eyes above hers. Her hand rose towards the side of his face, stroking it softly and affectionately. He quickly pulled her up back towards him, pressing her body firmly against his.

"Does he say what from?" he asked, his head rested against her shoulder as they slowly rocked from side to side.

"No," she answered, becoming distracted in the dance, "the dream ends there."

"Is there anyone with him? Can you tell?"

"There is, but he, perhaps even she, is hidden in shadow. I cannot tell who they are," her head came down to rest on his shoulder.

"I see. Thank you Sylvia. Let's just enjoy our dance together now," Davian said and lifted his head from her shoulder. She removed her head from his, and gazed fondly into his eyes.

"Yes let's. That would be nice," she responded. Together, they continued their slow dance throughout the sky. Both of them were lost in each other's company, and in the magic of the dance. They twirled together throughout the sky, two specks of black in front of the moon. The ripples continued to swirl outwards from the moon, a steady beat to which their dance conformed. Around them, the wind performed it's own dance, twirling around the two dancing bodies. It picked up crimson petals in its passing, floating them upwards in a dancing, twisting swirl of red. The red cloud twirled around the dancing couple, their aroma and beauty adding to the magic of an already mystical performance.

Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, their slow dance came to an end. Davian slowly lowered himself and Sylvia towards the crimson field below. Around them, petals fell in a light crimson rain.

"Must you leave so soon," Sylvia implored, once her feet were touching ground once more, "the morning is not yet here?"

"You know I must, it is the same as always. But do not fret, as always we shall be together again this time next month," Davian soothed.

"But when will the day come when we can be together, forever?" Sylvia asked, looking lovingly into the Demon's eyes.

"Soon, my dear Sylvia, I promise you. Soon," he said and, spreading his wings, slowly floated back towards the moon. He looked down on her, her cream dress a contrast to the field of red in which she stood. "Till our next meeting, farewell, my love," Davian said.

"Farewell, my beloved Davian," Sylvia cried, before the Demon vanished. As he vanished, the dead man, offered as a sacrifice, also disappeared, along with the blood that had escaped his dying body. The field of crimson around her faded away leaving orange, blue and purple flowers to blow softly in the wind. She took a short look around the field. These are much blander colours, she thought to herself as the last crimson petal shrivelled up in her hands.

She bent down and picked up the dagger from where it had been dropped. Its silver blade had been cleaned of blood, and reflected the first rays of the morning sun. Sylvia looked to the mountains, where the sun was just rising, like a beacon leading her home.