1.1 - Present

In our world, there are twelve elements that hold balance - and six who wield them. The darkness wanders. The scholar sits under the shade of a crab-apple tree, fanning himself calmly. The fallen angel gazes to the stars, a wistful smile on her face. The apothecary admires his new creation under candlelight. The reaper adds another soul to his collection. And the master lies in the earth, his bones turning to dust, awaiting the fated Reset.

The village had no name. Even as his footsteps echoed on the rain-soaked pavers, the strange buzz of insects in the air seeking shelter and the skeletal rustling of trees that lay against the muggy horizon, a dull grey silence spread across Cosmo's mind. He watched the sullen sky, glimmering droplets falling and shattering onto the ground. The wind was sharp, and like thousands of tiny needles, it worked its way through the fibres of his clothing. Freezing cold stung him from all sides. 

It filled him with a strange kind of calm, to see the rain. The water was always a wondrous thing to him: everchanging, everlasting, eternal. A pure constant in the flow of time. It blessed him with something like delight; the grey clouds creeping over an endless blue sky, natural and vast. Drops of water scattered as he continued to step forward, one foot after the other. An air of mystery hugged his elegant silhouette - white hair now shiny with rainwater, red eyes that were so vibrant yet so devoid of emotion. An unsmiling mouth fixed to fair, flawless skin. Two sheathed katanas were crossed over his back. A perfect image, lone traveller in the rain. 

This village, this place that foreigners spoke of as if it were a place of dragons, was mostly empty. The ordinary people from outside questioned and wondered about its contents. They imagined strange and wonderful secrets that lived inside its many walls. 

Perhaps he had not found what he was looking for here, but there was no more point in searching anymore. Cosmo continued his unhurried walk down the neglected pathway, not really knowing his destination. He looked around - there was the quiet peace of the surrounding forest, bringing the mild comfort of stability. But today didn't seem like another day of wandering under these dark cloud-streaked skies. He had been looking for something. It was his tireless pursuit that bound him to the skies and endlessly pouring rain. There was a strange entity that had once wandered the village like him - he could almost trace its paths, circling through countless ruins, across countless trees. But the only thing that came of his searching was a realisation. He was sure of one thing: it had been trapped, somehow unable to leave the boundaries that marked the village, confined to a freedomless existence. Not only did his intuition hint that its steps had weathered the ground for hundreds of years, but his surroundings were also a clue. This former village, though nameless, was often referred to by the informal nickname given to it by the outsiders: the Nexus. It was the place where all twelve elements converged, where nothing changed. Though left untouched for centuries, the paths were clean and the plants that should have covered every inch were frozen - neither growing nor dying. Ruins of ancient houses didn't decompose but instead stood as stubborn relics of the past. The sky should have been the same, so why? Why did rain fall, night and day, defying the balance that held the world together? 

And now he was leaving, but not because of his failure. There was something in that place that made him feel uneasy. Not the gaze of a primordial creature that had eluded his grasp for so long, but something stranger and more dangerous. He always found himself glancing behind his back, imagining a hand on his shoulder, expecting to turn around and see something there. Perhaps it was because of the endless things after him, with teeth and claws and swords. Those things that hunted him always.

He slowed his step, breathing in the petrichor-heavy scent of the air that hung like a veil. Somewhere inside him, a tiny hint of a smile appeared on a face that was hidden from the world. The sensation of complete peace was something that brought him joy. It made him feel almost content with the way things were. The moment was perfect… almost. Uneasiness gnawed at Cosmo's stomach as he realised what was approaching. Seriously, won't they give me a break…? There were footsteps behind him. He was keenly aware of a knife being pointed at his back, giving off an aura, clear as day. Killing intent. A few thoughts flashed through his head: There's no one watching, right? I can deal with this and no one would ever find out…

He stayed completely quiet and still, no indication that he had noticed anything strange. The figure behind him leapt, the blade spearing towards the back of his exposed neck. First, he would wait. Then, he would turn and cleave off his assailant's head, or maybe slash his torso in half, that would also work…

But what if someone-

Cosmo ducked, body bent all the way back to avoid being skewered on the blade that now hovered half an inch above his nose. He felt the figure behind him hesitate for a split second, then withdraw for another swing. But that split second was all Cosmo needed. He turned and leapt past his opponent, lightly tapping his neck and sides with the same hand. The three severed sections of the man's body collapsed to the ground in an ungraceful spray of gore.

Why not both?

He stood there, his face a porcelain mask, feeling both wretched and oddly satisfied at the same time. Killing people felt wrong, but it was clean. A slight, strange, horrible… thrill would go up his spine. It was effective, it was an efficient way to get rid of problems, and it was so easy. But as he looked at the body once again, he felt disheartened. Definitely time to get out of here.

There was a feeling inside him, regret. Not really much of a deep emotion, but something like a nagging annoyance that wouldn't leave him alone. Cosmo tried to push it away, whispering worthless excuses to himself. I didn't have a choice. It was him or me. Except it wasn't one or the other - it was hardly a fight. He could easily have spared him, but yet… 

He moved to turn but didn't notice the chill blade entering his flesh and the blackness that rose around him. There was no pain, only a dull sense of shock as his vision crept away slowly like a blasphemous scroll being unrolled. Cosmo's eyes closed and a faint smile played on his lips as he hit the ground.

He lay on the rain-soaked tiles, lifeblood seeping out, pinkish-red tributaries filtering out from under his body. A thin red line ran from the corner of his half-smile like a lover's last farewell. 

Is this what death feels like? 

The uneasy feeling was still around him. It wasn't the pain that overtook his senses first, but the overwhelming sense of danger that surrounded his fallen form. Some primal instinct from inside him screamed run, but an inexplicably paralysing feeling had spread across his limbs. His eyes wouldn't open, he couldn't bring himself to stand up, and the only thing he could was clench his jaw and wait. His side was stinging terribly as the blade drew enough to soak his shirt.

He glanced around, vision blurry and red. 

There was a curious tingling in his fingers. Suddenly the pain shot to his head like an ice-cold dagger, and he could no longer support himself - Cosmo held his breath, feeling confused and unexplainably empty. The left side of his body was completely numb, and flecks of red stained his otherwise white hair. He gingerly drew out the blade, wincing, biting his tongue, cursing his weakness. 

Black spots hung around the edges of his vision; they turned into shadows, then into people. They approached, intentions unclear. Cosmo was pressing his wound, feeling pathetically weak and vulnerable. He would be defenceless if they attacked. 

A hand grabbed his collar and lifted him up. He felt the blood rushing to his head and the world spun. 

He closed his eyes.

This is it, isn't it?

Cosmo opened his eyes again. The grip on his neck loosened. And his blood ran cold when he realised what was happening.

There was not a person holding him up. It was a body, a body without a head. Confusion briefly flashed through his disoriented mind. Who is this? What happened to them? Are they even human, without a head…?

Blood was dripping from the severed stump of the neck, and as his assailant's head fell to the floor with a sickening thump, the grip on Cosmo's neck went away completely. His senses were starting to reawaken again, and all of them screamed pain. Blood droplets stained his hands. He hated blood. Hated how it looked, felt, and weighed down on his mind when he was the one who spilled it. The cold and terrifying feeling of watching rivers of blood slowly creep away from a body. His eyes traced the path of the head as it fell, slowly, like a lucid dream that wasn't quite real. The body that had inexplicably held him up began to slump to the ground, and he was met with a disorienting clarity. He stood, winded, bent over, clutching his side. Blinking the rain from his eyelashes, he caught sight of something - or someone - silhouetted against the drumming rain and the haze of pain. 

A girl stood there, outlined in the misty air. She was young, fifteen at most, with wide cerulean-grey eyes that mirrored the turbulent sky above. Pale blue chrysanthemums laced her body, covering one eye. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. 

Her face was an expression of stark innocence. Cosmo watched as the pain from his wound seeped deeper. She held her bloodied hands in front of her, confusion evident on her face. Her clothes were drenched, sticking to her body and making her seem more vulnerable. 

Cosmo opened his mouth slightly to speak but his throat clotted with blood. 

The girl took a single step closer. Her head tilted the slightest bit, and she raised one bloodstained arm. Cosmo's half-conscious mind swirled with possibilities. It was clear that she had caused the carnage here, but there was no menace in her gaze. Her hand was a few inches from his skin. Time seemed to slow down as her fingertips brushed his cheek, cold and light. His eyes drifted to her hand, her delicate nail covered in blood, elegant fingers stained in red. 

As if it wasn't strange enough, he could feel his skin split as her nail traced his cheekbone slowly, leaving a narrow line of blood in its wake. She seemed a little curious, almost intrigued, by him half-kneeling from pain, the blood from his wound spreading across his clothes like deep maroon lace. Cosmo stood, half-entranced, feeling the heat bloom from his face. He felt nothing, no urge to fight, no urge to run, to save himself. There was a disturbing peace in her eyes, and she gazed upon him not like a predator would look at prey, but rather like an artist admiring a new medium. 

What is she doing? he thought. Why aren't I moving? Is she going to kill me like she had killed all those people?

 He had no idea why she was studying him like this, nor why he stood rooted in place in this solemn reverie, watching the clouds ripple in her one eye as the damp petals of the chrysanthemum fluttered ever so slightly in a stray breeze. Her finger traced down his cheekbone and came to rest at the corner of his mouth, making a wide, unnatural smile on his face. 

"I can kill you, right?" Her voice was soft, with an undertone of emotion that Cosmo couldn't quite place. "I can kill you, and no one would ever know."

I had those same thoughts before, Cosmo realised. No, she's right. No one would ever find out. He didn't answer. Their gazes met, an injured drifter and the girl who wielded death like a blade. 

"Such pretty eyes," she sighed. Suddenly her finger raked up his face and towards his left eyeball. Cosmo's instincts kicked in and he leapt backwards, ignoring the protesting of his aching limbs. The girl's expression changed slightly to surprise upon seeing this new plaything learning how to walk. 

"Oh? You shouldn't be moving like that, you know. You're hurt…"

She isn't right in the head, Cosmo thought. She could kill me without feeling a thing. 

And the next moment, the blade was at his neck.

He leapt backwards, the wind tousling his hair, rain stinging his eyes. The left side of his body along with his face were tingling and numb from blood loss. It wouldn't be too long until he was immobilised. He just had to survive until he could escape. 

The blade swung once. Cosmo looked down and in his wavering vision, he saw blood spreading over his right shoulder. Another swing - he barely dodged, but his balance left him and he hit the ground, the air knocked out of his lungs. He struggled to push himself up, the slick cobblestones offering little purchase for his desperate grip. 

He was on his back now, breaths ragged and shallow, facing the swirling sky above. Rain pelted down but he didn't brush away the droplets. 

It was all over so fast. 

Blood mixed with rainwater washed over his wounds, warm and chilling at the same time. His wet hair and soaked clothes stuck to his body, eyes half closed, limbs disobeying him. The girl advanced slowly. Her countenance was that of danger and innocence, a contradicting storm of separate intent. Her blade hung limp at her side as her silhouette stepped closer.

This might be where I die.

He should have been scared, should have been pleading for his life, begging her to spare him… but why didn't he? It was as if he had already surrendered to the fate that awaited him. But he gazed at his assailant with cold half-interest, his piercing red gaze meeting hers. She looked back just as nonchalantly, slowly lifting the knife blade. Cosmo felt a misplaced curiosity rising inside him. His body relaxed and a strange, light feeling spread across his body - almost joyful. 

I'm going to die.

It felt like a promise now, a splendid realisation. The knife seemed to come down in slow motion towards him and he welcomed it, leaning his head back towards the ground and leaving his neck wide open. He lay there pleasantly, calmly, as the blade pierced his skin. 

The cobblestones went slick with red, and the air filled with the stench of injury. Blood ran along the cracks between the stones, into the soil beside the rocks, in watery streams down the path. Cosmo's head lay to one side, blood running from his severed windpipe. The girl was pinning him to the ground with the knife still embedded in his throat. Her voice was a whisper.

"Won't you just die already?"

Cosmo closed his eyes and smiled, blood at the corners of his mouth. He felt the girl's weight lift off his chest, as she stood and walked away. Her footsteps grew fainter and fainter, and then she stopped.

And then there was no boy laying dying on the ground, no girl walking away with a bloody knife in her hand, but puppet strings guiding their movements like living mannequins. Those puppet strings gently lifted Cosmo and urged him forwards. Those puppet strings held the girl in place as she turned her head to look at him, emotion in her eyes for the first time. And those puppet strings tugged at Cosmo's hands, making him reach for the weapons on his back. 

I can't.

The strings pulled harder and Cosmo wrenched his wrists away just as savagely. The ropes around his arms strained, then snapped.

The girl looked back in confusion and a little fear. Her mouth moved, but Cosmo couldn't tell if she was saying something. He felt lightheaded and faint. The girl stepped back as though she was scared of him, eyes wide and full of worry.

"You're hurt. You shouldn't be moving like that…"

She had said that before. But this time the words were full of concern, and if she attacked, Cosmo wouldn't be able to defend himself again. Like her speech was a command, he sank to his knees, all his remaining strength spent just to keep himself upright. The girl looked at her own bloodied hands and shook her head in disbelief. The rain continued to fall, erasing any traces of the bloodshed that had just happened. Cosmo's energy left him and pain continued to erode his body as he fell. The girl rushed forward and caught him in her arms, wearing the same worried expression. He could see her piecing together the shreds of evidence - the blood on the blade, the blade in her hand, Cosmo's severed throat and the bodies on the ground. 

"What happened here…?" she asked shakily, though she already knew the answer.

"It's… nothing. You don't have to worry," Cosmo whispered in her ear, before the light left his vision and he fell into blackness.