I'll write one: A Christmas Dramione Harry took out a scrap piece of parchment from under his pillow. Drawing his wand and pointing it at the parchment, he cleared his throat. "I solemnly swear, that I am up to no good," he pronounced each syllable clearly. The piece of parchment started covering itself with ink which formed into words, as if they were there all along, hidden until the words were spoken. On the front, were a familiar set of words. Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs, Purveyors of Aid to Magical Mischief-Makers, are proud to present THE MARAUDERS MAP. Harry unfolded the front of the parchment, revealing a map of Hogwarts, a magical school which Harry attended. However this was no ordinary map, there were names written on the map, in minuscule writing, showing exactly where people were. Harry quickly located his own name in the boys dormitory of Gryffindor tower. He smiled at he saw his best friend Ron Weasley on the map moving slowly in a sleeping motion, like how he moved in his sleep. He then glanced a few centimeters to the right, and to his surprise, his other best friend Hermione Granger wasn't in the girls dormitory. He darted his eyes around the map searching for her name. Why would she be out of bed in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve? After a minute of searching, he finally found her name in a broom cupboard on the seventh floor. He was even more surprised when he saw the name of his rival and arch-enemy Draco Malfoy with her. He watched as the name moved slightly and tilted directions and Harry grinned when he realized they were French kissing. Looks like he has stumbled upon a secret. With a slight chuckle, he folded back the parchment and drew his wand again, before pointing it at the nap and clearing his throat. "Mischief managed," he whispered softly and the ink disappeared from the map, as if it was never there and that it was just a normal piece of parchment. Harry placed the parchment under his pillow and rolled over closing his eyes. That night he dreamed about his friends secret.
Here's a few disconnected bits of a story... Chap 1 Sigurd and his team crept through the dusty old house. They made absolutely no sound, the only noise coming from the blowing wind and creaking doorways. Sigurd’s team were assassins, Currently under contract with the Rebel Alliance. Once you had been hit-listed as a target, you were dead. It was as simple as that. The Brothers had never failed a mission, whether it be, capture, kill or any other task. Their skills had been handed down, father to son for generations. Even before the Rebel Alliance was first formed, the original Brothers had been mercenaries for hire. Still the same weapons were used, the twin hand-knives, the throwing knives/stars and other personalised weapons. The Brothers was a team of twelve, with Sigurd as their leader. Six of the assassins used various blades as their preferred weapon, another two used throwing knives. Only three of the assassins used modern weapons. Grim, Keldrik and Colbolt each possessed a sniper rifle and a bladed pistol. Sigurd himself carried two personalised blades, light enough to be thrown, large enough for hand to hand combat and strong enough to withstand strong blows without breaking. Sigurd had spent years with these particular weapons, and they had never failed him. Many a strong warrior had died a pitiful death beneath their malice. The target the Brothers were tracking was using this old house as a hiding place. He had covered his tracks most artfully, he had obviously been trained, but his skills were nothing compared to those of the Brothers. From the trail he had left it was clear that there were three men, the target and (presumably) two bodyguards. The brothers never referred to their target by name. Once they had been chosen, they were dead. Dead people don’t need names. Sigurd, who was in the lead, motioned for the assassins to freeze. He crept forward on his toes and pressed his head against the door. After listening for a few seconds, he motioned forward two of his throwing knife assassins. After listening to a few whispered words from Sigurd, they too pressed their heads against the door. After determining the positions of the two presumed bodyguards, they turned and nodded at Sigurd. Sigurd held up three fingers ... two ... one ... Vito and Anthony burst through the door, each releasing a throwing knife their hands. The knives hit their targets smack in the back of the neck. The bodyguards were dead before they hit the ground. Sigurd leapt into the room, followed closely by Grim, Keldrik and Colbolt, who each had a gun aimed at the target’s head. The target was a middle aged man with grubby blonde hair. Grey eyes glared out at the Brothers and his mouth was set into a permanent leer by a scar that bisected his face. The man’s suit was grimy – he’d obviously been on the road for some time. “So”, he said, “You’ve come. I always thought I’d get a bounty set on me someday, but I never thought it would be the legendary Brothers that would come for me. I’m honoured.” “Well I'm glad you’ll die happy, ‘cause no amount of sweet talking will get you out of this one.” Sigurd spoke in monotone. “Oh no, I’m not trying to get out, nobody escapes the Brothers, I know that. I am merely expressing my genuine surprise to see you, of all assassins, here.” “Well you have a reputation for slipping out of many a situation. We are here to make sure that doesn’t happen again” A grin spread across the target’s face. “Oh really? Because I think I’ve got you just where I want you.” “Tough ****.” Spat Sigurd, and slit his throat. Sigurd jumped back to avoid the resulting spray of blood. The target’s face was fixed in an expression of shock mixed with terror. The body slumped to the floor, face downwards. Sigurd left the body as it was, it didn’t deserve to be turned over and placed in a respectful position. “They bastards are all too cocky these days. Too much talk and not enough actions. He thought we would wait for him to pull off his special little plan. Stupid fool.” Grim observed Then said plan came into place. It was too late of course, but would still have to be dealt with. About twenty fully armoured men clanged into the room. After pausing for a second to take stock, they yelled and charged at the assassins. The Brothers immediately went into the offensive. Four warriors fell immediately under a hail of throwing knives and pistol shots. Sigurd drew his twin personalised blades. He threw one at a soldier charging towards him. The knife embedded itself in its target’s shoulder. Sigurd bounded over to the soldier, stabbed him straight through his neck and wrenched his blade free. The soldier went down in a torrent of blood, chocking and gargling. Ignoring the writhing figure, Sigurd turned to survey the scene. Five more soldiers lay dead, some still screaming and crying. Even as Sigurd watched another two soldiers fell, one with a face lacerated from cuts, another with a throwing knife between his ribs. The remaining nine soldiers all reassembled their selves in a circular porcupine formation, backs together, and swords facing outwards. Sigurd called to Colbolt, “Leg up!” and ran towards him. Colbolt laced his hands together and held them out to Sigurd. Sigurd jumped, both feet landing on the platform created by Colbolt’s hands. Colbolt sprung his hands upwards and launched Sigurd skyward. Sigurd landed in the middle of the confused soldiers, and immediately stabbed outwards with both of his knives. The two soldiers fell, wounded but not dead. The other soldiers were now in a confused panic, stumbling around to try and face Sigurd. The Brothers took advantage of this and laid into the soldiers. Two fell immediately, stabbed in the back by the deadly assassins. A throwing knife clanged off a helmet, the soldier turned to face the threat, but it was too late. The assassin jabbed a throwing knife into his face and he fell away screaming. A shot sounded, a soldier swore violently as the bullet embedded itself in his arm. Another assassin jumped forward to finish the job, but the soldier whipped up his shield and the blade clanged away. The soldier swung his blade in an arc and almost caught the surprised assassin, who stepped back just in time. The soldier advanced again and swung his blade in a wide arc. Again the assassin ducked under the blade, putting the swordsman off balance. Stumbling forwards, the soldier raised his shield blindly and managed to halt a blade aimed at his throat. Sigurd stepped forwards past the rising assassin and kicked the man’s shield aside. The man was still bent double facing the floor. Sigurd slapped the flat of his blade onto the back of the man’s head. He keeled over senselessly. As Sigurd looked up, he saw the two remaining soldiers fleeing out the way they came. “Leave them, they are just hired scum.” The Brothers went around the room silencing those who were unconscious or not yet dead. “They obviously had training though, they were no standard hands.” Observed Colbolt. “Aye, nothing we can’t handle though eh!” Shot Grim. “Enough banter, you’ll have time for that later. Search the bodies; see if you can find anything that will give us a link as to where they came from.” Sigurd said. A few minutes later, Keldrik returned with a scrap of cloth bearing the red diamond of the Imperium. Above the diamond was a golden ‘5’. “You were right ‘Bolt, they weren’t your average killers, they come from the fifth legion of the Imperium.” “Hmmm... we will report this back to the Alliance, target has links to the Imperium.” “You don’t think ...” Murmured Khan “No!” Snapped Sigurd, “I mean, it’s very unlikely that he was their Council Leader, even with the current rumours that he is not at his seat. Sigurd walked out, the Brothers following him in silence. For them, it was just another job completed, more money in their coffers. They had horses waiting outside, which would carry them away to one of the many Safekeeps they had spread across the land. There would be food there, and makeshift beds – some small comfort. With luck it would only take them a few days to travel to the nearest of them. The horses were still outside, lying perfectly still as they had been trained. Sigurd’s marvellous bay stood raised its head slightly, sensing its master. Sigurd smiled, the horse was one of the one things he loved in the world; whilst was with Swift he was totally free. Him and his Assassins, though they had bonds to the Rebel Alliances, they were at best, mercenaries. Everyone who knew anything about the Brothers knew they were a law unto themselves. Chap 2 Mounting their horses, the Brothers set off at a gallop. The sun was due to set in a little over two hours, and this was not a pleasant area in the country to be sleeping. Imperium patrols often passed through here, and though they would not be any harder to dispatch than the band they had just encountered, but it would be troublesome to hide the bodies. After an hour, the Brothers bean to enter a thick forest. The trees, especially the tallest of them were mainly broadleaf, so not much light filtered down to the forest floor. Only now did Sigurd relax slightly. They were all but safe now, no wild beasts would bother them and in forest terrain, there was nobody who could home to match the skill of Sigurd’s killers. Half an hour before sunset they reached the Safekeep. To any passersby (though passerby’s in the forest were not a likely occurrence), it would seem like just an abnormally large pit in the forest floor. Jumping down into the pit, Sigurd was suddenly wary. The seemingly solid curtain of ivy concealing the cave entrance had been parted. Drawing one of his blades, he lanced forwards into the cave. A few moments later, Sigurd backed out dragging a large wolf carcase. It was fresh, but not so much so that Sigurd had just slain it. “Traps sprung boys!” Sigurd called, “two rabbits, or their remains. Can’t eat them unless you want to scrape them off the floor, but our friend here” motioning to the wolf, “looks like he’s got some meat on him.” The brothers cheered. It meant none of them would have to go and hunt, though herbs would have to be gathered unless those in the cave stocks were still fresh enough to be edible. One of the assassins, however, turned away. His name, or the name he gave; was Wolfe. The name was apt, as his eyes were those of a wolf. They were a pure crystal blue but for a small black iris. Each of the assassins had their family’s emblem. It was sown into their standard assassin’s robe (a midnight blue bearing the white rose of the Brothers), but Wolfe carried his also on a pendant around his neck, and was never parted from it. The emblem was a half-moon, and it was forged of silver, and it now glowed. Sigurd would have said it was the light of the moon reflected off of it, but there was no light but the torches they carried; and the pendant was almost gleaming. Sigurd had once questioned Wolfe of its origin (the assassins were wealthy enough, but it seemed odd that a freelancing mercenary would possess such a treasure), but he had simply said “One day, Brother Sigurd, it will save both your life and my own. It has its purpose as we have ours.” Sigurd trusted all of his assassins with his life, they were his family, but his knowledge of their respective pasts was limited. He knew they had grown up as he had, with mothers or nannies, then upon coming of age their father would have returned, and taken them to the Brothers. With the older members they would train and take part in minor assignments, until they inherited the place of their father upon his leaving of the Brotherhood (the Brothers were very rarely killed, but would leave the team when they felt they were too old to be of use, and became more of a hindrance Where they went after this depended on the amount of money gained during their serving time, but many became senior council members with the Rebel Alliance). He had left the matter, but had never forgotten it. He was reminded of it now as light danced off of (from?) the pendant. Wolfe noticed Sigurd’s stare, “I will not eat such a noble beast especially one brought low in such an ... undignified way.” Then I stopped *At the end of the book* “And that,” concluded the Monk, “Is the lay of the Rebel Alliance.” “That’s quite a tale, Sir, are y’sure it’s all true?” Questioned the Boy. “Oh yes. I was quite a young man during this war, but I remember it well. I've got it all up here.” The Monk tapped his head with a wry smile. “Tell me, Little Master, why did you want to become a monk? Most of the boys your age want to go off and fight, do they not?” “Aye Sir, but I bin raised God fearin’ by me Mam, an’ I don’t think I ced kill a man. Much better t’ help those wot’ have sinn’d and want ter be forgiven.” The Boy had a very broad accent, but the Monk hand travelled far and had little trouble deciphering his words. “I understand you there. I took from the world as a young man, and now I am giving back.” The Boy frowned. The Monk often confused him with his way of talking. It was as if he had experienced the world through eyes different to everyone elses. Sometimes he sounded tired, as if he’d given all he had and the world had just kept taking. The Boy was a good judge of character, but there was something about the Monk he couldn’t place. “Not sure I understand, Sir. Wot’s that mean?” He frowned. “Well.” Said Sigurd Bregard, and smiled. [/End] ...there's another part or two I'll try and find for you. ~daT.
An alternative ending to the above... The Goldenboy - Prologue The sun was setting over the burnt, blackened battlefield. Upon a throne of corpses lay Sigurd; his blood pooling around him. His eyes were closed, his breathing ragged and uneven, but he was alive. A soldier jogged up to him and knelt on the bloody ground. Sigurd opened his eyes. It was Kaedr, thankfully. The only person whom Sigurd would have allowed to disturb him at such a time. "Sir, I've radio-ed a medical team, they're on the way now Sir" "Bloody hell Kaedr it's been years since you met me, and you still call me Sir. I'm going to die, will you please call me Sigurd for once. Oh and call off the medical team, I'm not having them fussing over me in my last hour." "But Sir ... I mean Sigurd, you can't just give up." Kaedr stuttered. Sigurd closed his eyes again. "Kaedr my life is flashing before my eyes, you know what that means. I'm gonna' die today, and I intend to do it right here, just you and me." Kaedr sat and watched Sigurd, his eyes seemed to be looming around beneath his lids. It was freaky, but nothing a grizzled old veteran like Kaedr would be bothered by. Sigurd spoke; a final rasp from his mouth. "Aye ... My life flashes before my eyes", he opens his eyes and gazes straight at Kaedr, "I tell you what though old friend, it's a damn good one to watch, you an' me, we been through some tough times together. You're like a brother to me, bonded through the blood and grime of a life of warfare. It's you that's made my life worth watching Kaedr, so thank you. When I sit at my place in Valhalla, I'll git' ye a space if I have to throw Odin himself out of his throne. Then we can look back an' laugh about our adventures over a pint 'o beer. Make sure your life is worth watching Kaedr, 'cause one day you'll be in this same position, watching it flash before your eyes." With that Sigurd let out his last, long breath. His eyes glazed over and the light winked out of them. His mouth was set forever in a warriors' defiance. Kaedr lent forwards and gently closed Sigurd's eyes. "You're right old friend, it's been a damn good 'un. Don't you worry, I'll carry on your legacy, I'll earn my place in Valhalla, though I've no doubt you'll find another excuse to wrestle with the Gods. Farewell, for now, Sigurd Goldenboy, one day may we meet again." With that, Kaedr picked up Sigurd's limp frame and began carrying it back to the camp. The blood-red sunset blazed over his shoulder, like a final respect to Sigurd, and his life of battle and bloodshed. ~daT.
Zero "Lulu! WAKE UP"called his younger sister Destiny. "you need to stop calling me this I am Lelush Lamperush... Not 'lulu'"he replies kidishly. As he walks outside, forgetting something he sees a 'nightmare', a death machine made during the war against Britania. Britania won forcing us to be called 11's. He walked down the street still half asleep at 5am for school he notices a soft feeling at the back of his shirt. At first he ignored it but when everyone laughed when he arrived at home room he knew something was up but he couldn't put his finger on it. "I don't know or care what you are laughing about..." he replied coldly as he sat. "Lelush-" his best friend "Kogie" was interupted by his teacher. " LELUSH!!! I know you get tired but that is no reason to wear your pajamas to school. That happened 7 years ago before I became zero... Hello my name is Lelush yes it happens I am the sad little 11 year old in this memory but that will never change why will happen from this point out...
"H-Hello?" The voice of a woman sounds through the skies. "I-If you are there, sh-show yourself at once." "How long have us Guardians existed?" Another voice booms through the air. "For how long have we protected the mortal realm?" "Who are you?!" The feminine voice speaks again, but with a worried tone. "Show yourself!" "For too long have we waited for our desting, and for too long have we let the mortal realm be protected by us." The booming voice sounds with a hint of rage. "I shall get my revenge on them..." Does this sound a little interesting?
I decided to post on this but plz don't be to harsh on criticisms I'm only 12 The unsuspecting one Prologue I woke up to hanging up side down with with shagalagas surrounding with a fire underneath me. Doing there victory dance it goes like them doing lots of noise like ooga laga shaga daga do um laga shag daga do um so on and on. They had swords mixed with elements fire, water, earth and air they made the swords so they could defeat any elementals and warriors. Wait I'm sorry. I'm getting a head of my self . Chapter 1 6 months ago I woke up and couldn't remember anything it was all green and I found a sword and a book beside me the book read the entire encyclopaedia of magic, fighting and weaknesses of animals and monsters. I firstly got up and took in my surroundings there was trees every where I was in a slight opening with what looked like burnt leaves and some stumps around me. I walked north I'm not sure why it just felt right. There was a wolf it hadn't seen me so I decided to try to burn it with magic. I had looked in the book previously and it said the best way for beginners to use magic is to day what want it to do over and over in your head so I kept thinking burn,burn,burn,burn,burn then suddenly I heard a yelp that put me out of my concentration. The wolfs tale was slightly singed and had noticed me so I pulled out the sword I had and went over . The wolf tried to hit me with it's paw I raised my left arm to protect myself but then I realised to late that it had penetrated deep into my skin. Then with the adrenalin in me I slashed down at is head that had killed it. I had suddenly realised how faint I was I had lost a lot of blood. So I tried to so some more magic to heal myself. Heal, heal, heal, heal. I had a tingly sensation in my arm and when i looked down it was all but a White scar. But doing that magic had taken a lot of work and I had blacked out. Chapter 2 Next thing I knew I had woken up in a bed with the smell of a pine fire. I checked my bag to see if I still had my stuff. Luckily I had it. I then tried to get up but unsuccessfully, I fell flat on my face with a with a big bang. I heard some foot steps coming in. The man who came in looked around 30 he had black hair and had his sword in hand he asked ," what's happening". To which I replied,"nothing. Also where are we." the mysterious man while laughing," why we're in the amazing land of zargrath."I then replied,"who are you?" the man replied,"John and what's your name and age?" to which I replied," my name is warganthia and war for short and I think I'm 15 him asking that question just let me remember a little about my past. I heard a banging on the door and John said quickly,"go hide." I tried to protest but he sharply said,"now." I went to hide under the bed. I could see that John had opened the door. A man of around the same age as John had punched him the face and knocked him out cold. I then saw the mans face he had two long scars down either side of his face. It brought back a flash back a scared 5 year old cowering under the bed while his parents were being murdered by that very man. War gets out and silently goes to the door way and tries to burn the mans thugs this time it worked properly. The mens flesh was burnt of there very skin. Then John kicks out at the man ,but the man jumps up and dives through a window smashing it and escaping into the night.war then goes over to the John and unties him. As soon as war had done that John asked," what the hell was that!" "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, I was about but then that man came in." " dont tell anyone that you can do magic they execute people who can do it." "Who was he?" John replied gravely ," that was klikado." I replied ,"he murdered my parents." I replied with a face of pure fury and anger. "it's most likely he did he runs around 80% of the crime in zargrath." I asked John ,"why did he come here." John replied after 20 seconds ," i owe him a lot of money." " we should go into town and get you some clothes," said john and war realised he was wearing only shorts.
The sky was cloudy, and although it was more comforting than open skies I still felt uneasy without the vivid and lively green branches of the great oak trees in my homeland. I pulled my dark brown hood further down my face, and continued to read from the dusty, yellow pages of my spellbook. The crinkle of when I turned the page didn't help my tension, as I got several annoyed looks from the other barge passengers. I sighed, then put my spellbook away and leaned on my redwood staff. Unhurriedly, I pulled a thin dagger out of my tall leather boot and melancholily carved a notch onto the bottom of my staff. It was the twenty nineth mark. "I've been gone for almost one cycle of the moons..." I muttered to myself. Almost one month ago, I had been banished from my woodland home by my fellow wood-elves. I suppose they had good reason, but I couldn't help but pity myself. How was a young lady such as my self supposed to survive in...in... "Vornheim! We've arrived in Vornheim!" the barge's owner called out. I looked out at the city set on the western side of the River of Certain Doom, the river the barge was traveling on. The city was large, and I could feel the tingle go down my back. For these buildings were taller than the trees of my homeland! The buildings stretched out, tall and thin, with pointed spires on the top, not unlike the bony fingers of a skeleton. I smiled. If the rest of Vornheim reminded me of the undead, perhaps it wouldn't be so bad after all. I was abruptly snapped out of my thoughts by the barge's owner pulling at my dark green robes. "Mam', it's time to get off. I'll need to collect your fee." Good thing I had memorized the Charm Person spell. "Geklam unthra magio denaris." I walked away as the bargeman stood there, staring at the ground. As I walked off of the dreadful barge, I felt a sharp tug on my coinpurse. To my horror, I saw a city elf dash off with it to a nearby vendor! Sprinting through the crowd, my hood fell back from my face, and my jet-black hair trailed behind me as I tried to reach the petty thief. Just as I reached him, a salesman pulled me aside. "Hey you! Elf lady! I've gotsta beer and gamblin' and women and whateva you wants. Just gimme some gol' and we'll strike up a deal." I pushed myself away from him, and saw the thief purchase chainmail from the vendor-with my gold coins! "Garamuthi ashaktur mesamo TYRN!" I shouted, my onyx eyes glowing hazy black. The shocked elf levitated in air, and I marched up to the vendor. "Excuse me. There is a mistake, that elf purchased the chainmail with my gold. May I return the chainmail?" I smiled as charmingly as I could, but inwardly cursed. I shouldn't have wasted Charm Person just to save five gold! "No. I'm nut given back no fifty gold piece!" I turned to the elf, now gasping for breath on the ground. By now, I was practically burning with rage. Of all the gold, he used the only coin I needed to perform the most important of spells! "You wasted my money on chainmail!" I screamed through gritted teeth "Do you even know what that coin was for?!" He brushed aside a stray bit of his blond hair. "Do you know who I am? I am a white magician of Vorn, god of iron, rust, and boars!" He stood up, and was now eye level with me. "I needed money for obtaining armor!" My eyes were close to tears at this point. "You IDIOT! Leave it to a white magician to steal the only object keeping the Lady of the White Rose's wrath from obliterating my home!" Guess I wasn't going back to my village. Ever. "Do you know what happens when you anger a black magician?" I asked with a smirk. His face paled as he shook his head. "If you're lucky, you're just indebted. Good thing for you I'm not evil. You must pay me fifty gold before one moons cycle is over. What is your name, cleric of Vorn?" "I am Baelin, and I travel with my companions Spark the elven grey magician and Palaladin the human paladin. " as he said this, a short female elf and a tall, handsome armored man stepped up behind him. I could only assume they were Spark and Palaladin. "Might I know to whom I am indebted?" "I am Beriadanwen." I replied calmly. "So Alexandra in elvish?" Spark asked. I could tell by her brightly dyed red hair that she was very peppy. I sighed "I suppose. But really, please call me Ber-" Palaladin stepped forward and embraced me in a crushing bear hug. "Welcome to the party, Alex!" I turned a pleading glance to Baelin, who was trying hard to stifle a laugh. A roar could be heard from behind me, and I swore a long and colorful elvish curse. Palaladin let me go as he drew out his greatsword at the demon behind me. I motioned for him to put away his blade. "Hail, Demon." I called to the fat, blue, goatlike humanoid before me. "Whatever, Ber. Soul please!" he demanded in a sniveling voice. "Not today, Noriskar!" Noriskar cried in pain as I spoke his name, and the letters of the demon's name carved themselves onto his back. "Return from whence you came-the forty-eighth Hell!" I commanded, and Noriskar vanished in a puff of black smoke. "What was that?" Spark asked. "He came to collect a fraction of my soul for using the Black Magic. However, my Will was stronger than his, so he failed. Do not speak the demon's name; it will summon him." I explained hastily. "Waesmanyr," I swore in elvish "the guards are coming."
The jelly owl Once upon a time there was an owl called Oscar. Oscar wasnt a normal owl though, he was a jelly owl. Oscar had a family and friends that were jelly owls as well. One day Oscar was flying around the kitchen when he found a jelly kitten hiding under a baking sheet. "what are you doing there?" Oscar asked the kitten. "I got lost and I can't find my mum and dad." the kitten replied. "it's ok, you can stay with us until we find your family" said Oscar. He took the kitten home and they lived happily ever after. It's bad I no I made it up as I went along
Here's a story I'm working on now. Ghosts of Naught Prologue I could feel Sapphire's evil presence running directly behind me, her cold, lifeless hands reaching out to grab my hoodie. "Leave me alone, Hate!" I called her by her little nickname I'd given her, which suited her well. "Give me back our sacred Gem!" She growled in her demonic voice. I ran faster, turning a sharp corner, only to be put down another ling, dark corridor. I had no clue where I was, or what exactly was happening, but I did know tht this ghostly girl who I called Hate, wanted er sacred gem back, and me dead, just like her.