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A sharp chill to the wind, traveling swiftly towards whichever traveler dares the region.... The cold attacks his spine.... He welcomes it.... The breeze freezes as if being halted by the very essence of cold that it bears.... The air is heavy and the night dark.... He reaches the peak of a hill via an old warn path.... Upon the mound is a single whithering tree amidst several patches of short dead grass, blue under the dim light of the moon.... Behind him an expanding forest with a canopy blue lies dormant.... The live trees dead and the dead ones alive.... Before him at the base of the hill, among thick stale fog lay scattered graves.... He'd been here before.... The stars cease to twinkle stunned with fear.... The darkness moves, shifting back and forth.... Fireflies fade and chirping silences.... All is still and mute.... Moments pass.... Everything is a painting, a portrait basked beneath a pale lunar glow.... The shadows call out to him.... They yearn for his warmth.... A face, then two.... He notices one familiar.... The deep blue crystal eyes, once a sparkling diamond.... Now blank solid lifeless orbs..... A smirk.... The obsidian spheres shuffle forward.... The base of the man's perch surrounded.... The grin stretches into a soft chuckle....
"It's rare that I get to kill someone twice...."

To Be Continued....