Welcome to Gaia! ::

Snow, appearing the size of stars fell from the heavens. His feet were planted in the deep snow with eyes turned upward to the light grey sky crying frozen tears. His brown eyes like glass reflected each unique flake. Not one was like the other. Blinking a thin layer of flakes from his lashes his look dimed as dull as the sky. His black bangs were tossed to the side and the edge of his long hair that grew past his collar brushed against his neck. His pale skin was cold and frozen from what seemed like days trudging through the snow. His breath escaped his mouth in moderate exhales and lingered in the frozen air as billows of frozen air drifted into the atmosphere. He could see for miles into the deep heavens with his longing eyes. His gaze dropped in front of him then looked around as his hand tugged on the edge of his black trench coat, still stained of dark red blood not visible at first glance. A snowy field stretched out for miles to his right and the river had pooled into a small pond on his left. No more than thirty feet away stood the lining of a dense forest. Pines that stood several feet tall were covered in snow, seemingly untouched…

All sound was muted. The silence rattled in his ears, louder than a black smith pounding on a steed’s footwear. A cough shattered the silence muffled by his sleeve. Perhaps he stood there a moment too long. He lowered his arm he gazed back behind him at the trail that was following him with every step. Every single step he made was there. His eyes dropped to the white snow. It was just a mass of white attempting to blind him as his endless journey continued. And with a sigh, that’s what he did. Picking up his heavy frost bitten feet he trudged onward on foot. He shook his head slightly as regret filled his mind. He had sold his horse in the last town because he needed the money for rooming at a local inn. He would have traded a ride for a room any day. Though he was cold and hungry, he wouldn’t stop for anything other than a place to stay the night. But the light was beginning to decline; the next town was still a few hours away.

He licked his dry, cracked lips. His mind proceeded to tell him this was a mistake-he was determined to refuse such thinking. His hand slowly reached into his coat pocket and he laid it on a stack of envelopes tied together. If he had any reason to be tromping around in the snow, those letters gave him a good enough reason, perhaps a reason to be living. He knew nothing of his past and nothing of his life. With the ink and quill of another, was it worth the wait? He sat in many inn rooms by the light of an oil lamp and broke the seal of each letter, which was a majestic gryphon with a snake in its beak, the symbol his grandfather used to use. It had been passed down for centuries, from father to son and now lay in the pocket of his trench coat and had been unused since the day his father died. He saw no need to use it. Carrying on traditions seemed nonchalant to him. He didn’t care for them. Though after years of living the free lifestyle, he fit nowhere within close range of his ancestors. He lived every day without a single person to answer his only true question; why?

He dropped his hand glancing up to the tree tops where six large ravens fled the evergreen canopy. His steps slowed as he neared the forest. Superstition was on his tail though his face showed no sign of emotion on the matter. There was no need believing in such rubbish. That was what was taught to him growing up. After crossing into the tree line, the world became darker, darker than it appeared to be to others. But darkness was a disease, a sickness spreading. His grandfather knew of this. Each letter written with care seemed to tell no end. Darkness was a disease. Without a vaccine one might truly fall prey to its clutch and greedy fingers. He was determined to find a cure.


He walked for hours wading through the deep snow that reached half way up his calves. The trees had thinned and the clouds had cleared enough to where the waxing gibbous moon shone down on and illuminated the path at which he was still tackling one bold step at a time. He coughed violently again as his whole body shuttered. Tears filled his eyes as the cool night air gently kissed his face. Staring distantly down at the ground he watched for obstacles that were in his way. As he looked up again he could see faint light in the distance. A spark of hope flickered in his eyes for a moment as he began to speed up for a second but stopped when the light of the moon caught the reflection of an object in the snow. His steps slowly stopped for a second but when he neared the object. He found himself to be no longer alone.

Lying in the snow stained red with blood and an arrow through her chest was a young woman. Her skin looked soft and smooth and silky white like porcelain. Her eyes were partly open and held no light in them for they appeared grey and lifeless under her thick blonde lashes. Her golden hair was laid around her and her shoulders as if it was arraigned that way when she died. Her dress was black and not at all real in his book. It looked ragged and was torn all the way up her thigh and on the edge like they were rags just sown upon her. But spite her apparel she appeared to be like…an angel, the red blood stains in the snow creating wing like figures around her. But his eyes were drawn to the main attraction. Around her neck strung to a golden chain was a cross studded with diamonds and engraved with unique markings he had never seen before. Both silver and gold were used to make it. That could be told at first glance. It looked like something worn by a king perhaps and was without a doubt valuable.

He stood there no more than two feet from her, an unreadable look on his face. His eyes dimmed as he knelt down beside her. She barely had a stench besides the slight trace of perfume applied to the nape of her neck. She was possibly recently killed. Watching her face closely he reached for her hand with slight haste. He picked it up with care and handled it the same way. He placed his middle and pointer finger together against her wrist. No beat… Dropping her hand softly in the snow again he took a glance around, his eyes dimming a bit. Turning back to her he eyed the cross. Reaching for it he gently picked it up and turned it so it faced him. Turning it from side to side it gleamed in the moon light and he gave it a fond look.

‘Take it…’ an ominous voice filled the silence.

Within a second he dropped it, the cross thudding against the angel’s cold dead chest and he leaned away from her. Billows of frozen breath escaped his mouth in a slight panicked pace as he stumbled back into the deep snow. His hand, gloved in a worn leather glove slipped under the untouched white surface, filling with snow, stinging his bare skin and sending chills up his arm and too his shoulder. He retracted his hand quickly and removed his glove quicker letting the snow fall out of it and back to the ground. His eyes examined his hand, which had a bluish tint to it under the moon light. His breathing began to slow. His hand was nearly freezing. The frigid night air numbed his hand completely before he stuffed it away into his glove.

Standing, the man shook as a violent sneeze erupted from him. “God…damn…” he barely muttered in a whisper. His throat was too sore causing his voice to be hoarse and rough. He used his sleeve to wipe his nose a little, with lack of anything else to use. His eyes were drawn back to the dead body of the angel as she lay lifeless in the snow. Her face was nearly flawless. It was a shame she had to die. He stood there a moment deep in thought trying to decide on his actions as he glanced again to the cross lying on her chest. The compelling urge to take the precious amulet was growing on him like a weed. Standing there with his arms over his chest, every inch of him was growing numb from the cold. The only thought that ran though his mind was the need for money. If he was falling ill, he’d need the money later.
His body moved slowly on his own as he reached down for the cross. He maneuvered it up and over her head as his hands worked together to place her back in the same way she was lying before. Down on his knees and with the amulet in hand he took a better look at it, mindlessly placing his hand on the chest of the angelic corpse. His mind snapped to when he felt slight warmth under his hand. It then struck him. With much effort he stood as quickly as possible resulting in stumbling off to the side. His tiered mind knew the woman hadn’t been dead long. Looking side to side and all around, he slid the necklace into his trench coat pocket. He picked up his feet again and marched toward the light.

But how…, he questioned himself. But he didn’t dare look back. For all he knew he was being watched. But the question lingered, weighing down his weakening body. He was pushing his legs as fast as they could go. His teeth chattered as he hugged himself tighter. Every breath burned his lungs and he held back every urge to cough. He had just committed a crime and worse, he was present by a corpse no more than an hour or less old. But then again that didn’t make sense. It registered in his mind that there was an absence of footsteps around the crime scene. The thought boggled his mind. He shook his head looking only ahead to the faint light that had grown brighter and appeared to be gas lamps that illuminated the small village ahead.

After trudging for twenty minutes, the buildings that were small and distant got nearer and larger in scale. His head was spinning and the small village looked to him like snow covered chocolate. All the buildings were dark brown and drab but he didn’t judge.

The snow in the town was less deep in the town’s road ways and was imprinted with the tracks of horse hoof prints and wagon wheels, the only means of transportation in the country-which he was unable to afford. He stumbled into town and moved up to the wooden walk way that ran along the buildings. They were bunched together like condos. Very few lights were illuminated in the windows and the gas street lights were dimly lit, not admitting as much light as they should. The man’s shoes thudded on the walk way as he walked at a sluggish. He was losing focus fast and he could barely lift his head enough to catch a glimpse of the hanging signs above the stores and to his high hopes, an inn.

Up ahead fifty feet, a sign with letters carved with the word ‘Lodging and Pub’ was a rather large building compared to those around it. It stood three stories high and was nearly six rooms wide and eight deep, the only Inn around for miles. The window was illuminated showing warmth to travelers that may have been passing by. Through the window one could see straight in where there were carpenter made tables and chairs set up, with white candles on each. Some were burning and others were not. A bar was lined up against the back wall of the main room with bar stools pushed up to the bar. A large white, wild looking dog-almost wolf like- lay sleeping at the end of the bar. A small group of burly men who were staying up for the late night get together and to be away from their gals for the evening were sitting on the far west side of the room near a warmly lit fire place enjoying their late night brew.

One man was rather large with a long curly hair tied back that matched the massive bush of a beard that billowed from his chin. He had merry eyes, like that of a kindly father. He had a smile that lured anyone toward him for a gentile embrace. His brown vest was stained in oil. One would only guess his occupation. A hardy laugh escaped his throat as he raised his glass toward fellow companions as they carried on the general village gossip. “An’ me old boy found ‘imself, plop, face first in the snow.” He laughed loudly and brought his wooden tankard to his pink lips and drank it dry. After he finished he slammed it down the table with a refreshing ‘ahhhh’ escaping his breath. “Doesn’ gotta ridin’ bone in ‘im, I say.”

The group laughed together.

A more muscular man with a square jaw and looked rather rough smiled a rather crooked smile. He had a five o’clock shadow and sharp dark eyes. He drank some from his cup then lowered it. “I say sir,” he said addressing the other man. “You put ‘im to work with me, I’ll put ‘im on old Marcy, give ‘im a buckin’ good time,” he said with charm and a wink, causing the others to be set off like a group of laughing hyenas.

“Oh Lewis,” said a woman walking up to the table. “Don’ go involvin’ the boy with your games. Alfie would get hurt,” she said sternly while gathering the empty cups onto an empty, circular tray. The woman was shorter and round with her ginger red hair streaked with grey tied back in a bun and was clothed in a house wife’s dress of the commoner type. She carried the tray of empty mugs away from the table and back to the wash bin.

The kind eye man watched the woman leave and smiled. He was affiliated with her; in fact she was his wife. Her words made him smile. He took out a small pipe and matches. He lit the tobacco inside and took a small puff and let it out. He leaned in and chuckled deeply. “She jus gone and been protective of them boys for years,” he said. “She don’ like the fact their grown up.”

“How oldd are they now? Forty two?” one man said and they all laughed.

With a twinkle in his eye, the jolly man laughed. “Naw,” he said inhaling his pipe. He had a wise look about him. “Both of ‘em, jus turned twenty one, healthy an’ strong.” He looked up at his companions nodding softly as he smiled a fatherly smile. “Alfie’s gettin’ tall and James-he’s strong like a bull.”
“An’ a little bull headed,” another one added and they all laughed.

Suddenly, bang! A hard thud hit against the widow drawing everyone’s attention to the window. Even the sleeping k-nine stirred and lifted his head, his amber eyes looking straight at the window. A low growl escaped his breath slightly as his ears pointed forward.

“Oh hush Barren,” the woman said wiping her hands with a towel and walking toward the door. The dog’s ears laid back as he huffed and lay his head down again.

“Who could tha’ be a’ this time a night…” The woman’s hand reached for the door and she opened it quickly and looked out with haste in attempt not to let the hot air escape from the pub. When she looked toward the window and looked down. The man in the black trench coat sat slumped over against the wall the window was on. From where the woman was standing she could hear his wheezing labored breath. Her hands covered her small mouth and pressed against her chubby cheeks. “Oh goodness,” she muttered, her words muffled. Stepping back inside, she addressed the now quiet group of men. “Oh, Tom! Come here an’ hurry.”

The robust, jolly man slowly stood setting his pipe on the table and without question and crossed the room to the front door. “Wha’ is it Mary?”

“It seems we gotta traveler on our porch, Tom,” Mary said drawing her husband’s attention to the sickly man.

Tom stepped out onto the porch and stood in front of the traveler a moment before kneeling down. His soft eyes looked at the poor traveler with pity. The man broke out into an awful coughing fit. With hand shaking violently the traveler reached into his pocket in an attempt to retrieve the coins he had which was enough for a room he hopped. But Tom reached over and placed a hand on the man’s. The traveler looked up slowly from under black bangs and opened his dry cracked lips to say something. They were already cracked open and the blood had frozen to his lip. No sound came from his mouth.
“Can yeh stand?” Tom asked gently maneuvering himself to help the poor man up. Tom had to pull on the traveler to get him to his feet. The man began to stumble a little, his legs tiered and weak. “Lean on me, k?” Looking to his wife he added. “Get some warm water an’ some medicine. Sen’ old Billy to get the doctor.” Tom helped the traveler inside while Mary shut the door behind him. The traveler could barely walk making the venture across the bar slow and tedious. He barely raised his bowed head to glimpse at the other men sitting around the table who were watching him silently, but to him they looked like doubles and blurs because his head was spinning.

Tom managed to help the man almost to the stairs. As they passed by the end of the bar the dog lifted its head and looked toward the traveler his owner had in tow. Another growl escaped his breath displaying by Barren’s terms, the traveler was not welcome. When they reached the stairs, Tom didn’t expect the traveler to walk up the stairs on his own. He instead picked up the wheezing coughing man and carried him all the way upstairs and down the hall and to an empty room with a fire place lit inside. He laid the traveler on the bed and stood back. Mary entered the room caring some old dry warm clothes. “Tom, tha’s ‘enough now. I’ll take it from here,” she insisted. “An’ the waters over the fire. Bring it up would ya?” she asked with a smile.

With Tom out of the room Mary addressed the traveler, helping him out of his cold wet clothes and into dry warm apparel, beckoning him to sleep just in time for Tom to bring up the warm water and cloths. Mary set to work trying to warm up the poor man the best she could. When she finished she lay the man’s wet clothing over a rack on the other side of the room near the fire to dry. Walking over to the oil lamp, she turned the knob, turning it off and exited the room letting the sick traveler sleep.

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Darkness; the man slowly woke to darkness. The walls, the floor, the ceiling was nothing but black. He lay sprawled out on his back staring up ward into the pit of black-into darkness. Silence, annoying and loud rang though his ears. He couldn’t comprehend what was happening exactly…He just knew the space was black.

He slowly sat up. He was in no pain and his cough had seemed to have diminished its self and was gone. Looking down he found himself in different apparel. He was clothed in a white cotton button up with a black vest and trousers and tall white socks with black shoes with silver buckles. He admired himself slightly as he slowly stood. His eyes were drawn left then right.

“He-hello?” he hesitated to call out. His voice was held only a slight accent, not like his rescuers-though their presence was scarce in the void. He stared into the black mass around him, keeping his composure. Taking a step, the sound of his shoe echoed through the void and he froze taking a look around. His eyes shifted from left to right before taking another step and freezing once again. No one…, he thought to himself. He was alone. Sighing lightly, he stood up straight trying to seem prominent. He tugged on his vest and began walking with light steps moving forward, slow and careful.

He walked forward, careful of his step in slight fear there was a drop off from the ground he was not aware of. He held his hands behind his back and lightly fiddled with his fingers. His black hair tossed side to side as he walked. His brown eyes were distant and hard for he was unsure of what to make of this…darkness.

“You’re not supposed to be here…” An ominous voice came out of the blue; a male’s to be precise.

The man froze. Fifteen feet ahead of him appeared Barren, the white dog that had been sleeping near the bar when the traveler first arrived and was now staring at the man. The wolf like dog’s amber-gold eyes stared at him, his white fur causing him to stick out in the blackness of their surroundings even though the void lacked light. His ears and tail were lifted in a dominate position as he stared down the man with intensity.

The traveler stared back at the dog. Thought over came him as he stared back into the dog’s eyes. Did the dog speak? The traveler looked around for the presence of another human being.

“You’re making a mistake…” the voice came again.

“Who are you…” the traveler said abruptly.

“Those letters are a lie…”

The man’s eyes widened. “No…They were left for me…” he said grimly.

“They will only lead you to darkness…,” the voice said. Barren began growling at the traveler.

“I’m trying to stop the darkness!” the man snapped.

Silence rang out for a few brief seconds before the voice rang out again. “You fool!” Barren then darted across the black floor and jumped at the man barring his teeth.


The man’s eyes snapped wide open and his breath was panicked. He clutched his chest holding the shirt he had on with his finger tips. He stared up at the wooden ceiling of the room. He was unaware of his surroundings but after a moment he realized…it was only a dream. Slowly his sat up in the bed he had been laid in, in the upstairs of the Inn. His body felt less worn but still somewhat weak. He slouched over slightly lightly panting, his lungs still burning with his light breaths. His cheeks were flushed and chills ran up and down his spine. His eyes were wide with terror and his mind was in shock from what he had seen and felt in his dream. The image of the dog’s long k-nines flashing white and attacking him made his body tremble. He clutched his hand tightly on his shirt and swallowed. But swallowing wasn’t as easy as he hoped. His throat was still sore and rough. He coughed to the side harshly in his fist. He glanced down at his hands and noted they had been wrapped neatly in bandages. His skin felt sore under the strips of cloth on his hands as he tried to move them up a little.

His eyes were drawn up ward as he looked about the small inn room. A small wooden nightstand with an oil lamp on it was the first thing to meet his eye, for it was right next to the bed. A small fire was going in the right corner of the room. It cracked and popped slightly sending small ashes drifting though the air and landed softly on the stone of the fire place. The room was warm and homey with the fire going. It drew his attention away from the drab drapes that hung around the window directly across from the fire place. Frost had settled on the pane of the window demonstrating the frigid winter weather outside. Light was coming through the window and shone throw the layer of ice coating the glass. It was now day time is what he assumed. The walls were made of dark panned wood with plaster cocking in all the cracks too keep the cold out. The floor was worn with much wear and tear from over years of being walked on. A woven rug was laid on the floor at the foot of the bed. The bed its self was parallel to a wooden desk with an oil lamp on it. A wooden chair accompanied the desk and was pushed in neatly.

He looked to his clothes that hung on the rack near the fire place. He blinked lazily as he looked down at the clothing he was now wearing. His hand slowly let go of his shirt he was clutching too. It was no more than a black long sleeved shirt that was slightly baggy in the arms and was laced up from the collar bone to the collar. His pants had been changed to normal tan commoner styled trousers. His feet and up his legs had been wrapped in bandages similar to his hands.

A knock on the door caused his eyes to snap to the door. “Room service, deary.” It was Mary’s voice outside the door. She didn’t hesitate and gladly let herself in. She looked to the traveler and she smiled with her rosy cheeks bunching up by her eyes. In her hand was a tray of medicine and fresh hot ham and potatoes with tea. “Ah, yer up,” she exclaimed in a perky voice. She lightly set the tray down on the night stand and moved closer to the bed and wiped her hands on her apron. “How are ya fillin’, deary? Hmm?” she said, sliding her hand under the traveler’s bangs feeling his forehead.

It was still hot. Then man leaned into her hand slightly for it was cool to the touch. “I’m feeling fine…” he uttered roughly and cleared his throat.

“Well I ‘spected yeh’d be gettin’ better. Yeh’ve been out for three days. We all ‘spected yeh was dead,” she said with a slightly playful laugh though her nose. “Yeh’re a bit clammy, deary. But yeh aren' burnin’ up like yeh was earlier. Why don’ yeh eat something, make yeh feel better,” she said giving the man the tray of food and a motherly pat on the cheek.

The traveler looked at her with a slightly vacant look as if he’d never felt a mother’s kind touch. Had he? In all honesty, he couldn’t remember. He picked up the fork Mary had brought with meal and poked his food with it and picked it up and brought it to his lips. He hesitated a moment before eating it fully and slowly chewed. A fantastic sensation grew in his mouth as he savored the food. He had been without for days now and it was instantly satisfying. He let out a small sigh and leaned back slightly against the back board of the bed.

Mary smiled gently. “I figured yeh hadn’ eaten for days…yer skinny as can be” she said making the right assumption right away. “Oh, deary,” she added quickly.

The man stopped in the middle of his chewing and looked up at her.
“If yeh don’ mind…wha’s yehr name? We’ve been wonerin’ that since yeh got here. You obviously aren’ from round here are yeh,” she said with a smile and placed her plump hand on her hip.

The traveler finished chewing then swallowed roughly. He coughed to the side a little then cleared his throat. “It’s Rin...” he answered quietly and looked up into Mary’s eyes that reflected emeralds.

“Rin, yeh say. Yeh really are not from round here. I never heard tha’ name before. Where’re yeh from?” Mary asked curiously.

Rin looked down slightly. He wasn’t good with questions…and for a good reason too. He looked right up to Mary and answered softly, “I don’t know…The last place I recall is Stowcott.”

“Stowcott?” Mary said with surprise. “My yeh’ve traveled long way haven’ yeh. Tha’s months away from here, even on horse. Haven’ met anyone from there in years. Yeh musta been travelin’ for a long time.” She placed her finger tips on Rin’s shoulder lightly. “Where yeh bound ter, hmm?”

Rin swallowed another bite of food. It was common for this conversation to come up when he traveled. It always did, especially with earnest people like Mary. He cleared his throat and tried his best to speak up. “I have no destination…” he began, his tone distant and lifeless. His eyes dimmed. “I’m on a journey…perhaps to a place I don’t know of. I’m uncertain of where I’m going…I have only notes from the past leading me.” His eyes lifted as he glanced to his coat. He absentmindedly reached for the tea on the tray and picked it up. “I’m searching…”

Mary stared slightly at the traveler for a long moment. “Well aren’ yeh an odd feller,” she said with a smile. “What yeh gone searchin’ for?”

Rin managed to smile calmly as he gazed down at his reflection in the warm tea. “My memories…” he said lightly and brought the tea to his lips and sipped it.

Mary snorted a laugh. “Oh deary, yeh’ve must have had to many blows to yehr head.”

If only it was that simple…, Rin thought in his mind while staying silent and letting the old maid laugh at him. His look was dark. He slid his eyes closed as he took another drink of his tea.