Prologue and Interweave I

Interweave I

I do not know when the lines between dark and light blurred so far that I can no longer see them. I do not know when I became so incased in my own bitter hatred of them that I became one of them. I do not know, and I hate my self for not knowing.

I only pray that the others will not be like me, will not dwell so much on darkness that they are stained black with it. Our honor is all we have left, all that separates us from them. And with each stain on it, with each unworthy act, committed to save a life, I fear we become more like them.

The Unseelie.

The sound of their name, even in thought, brings a chill into my mind and ice to my veins.

Unseelie, the darker fey court. They who torment mortals for the fun of it, rejoice in their screams and in their blood on the ground and in their pain and torment and dying.

Unseelie. Those unholy phantoms who ride on the dark wings of the night, who steal children, leave their own in their place, and care nothing for the suffering they cause.

Unseelie. My people.

I was once one of them. I rode the on the heels of the storms and reveled in the darkness. I sang the dark songs and hungered for the blood and the pain, and I was like them.

I was not always so. My kind is of the wild fey, those not bound to either court, dark or light. Through my own foolish ambition, I swore an oath to the king of the Unseelie court, to protect and to serve him, obey his every whim, in exchange for his favor.

That was my downfall, and my eternal torment.

Prologue

Somewhere in New York City:

A dark alleyway.

Three hulking figures gathered close around a fourth, much smaller form.

A man's voice, laughing low. "Are you backing out of our agreement, Boy?"

A boy's voice, ringing out clear in frustrated anger. "We have no agreement! How can we when you refuse to state your terms!?"

"I have stated my terms. You give me what I want, and I give you what you need. Simple as that."

"But what is it you want?!"

"Are you agreeing then?"

A pause. "I will agree to this: I will give you what you want, so long as it is within my power to give and brings no harm upon my family or those I love, in exchange for the information I seek. Is this acceptable?"

The man smiles, slow and cold. "This is acceptable."

"Then it is done."

"It is done."

A long, slow silence. Then, "What is it you want?"

The man laughs, leans close to the boy.

Whispers.

"You."

Blackout.