Hey people! Don't have much to say really, except this is my first fan fic but definitely not my first piece of fictional writing. It stands a good chance of being edited or whatever, and updates probably won't be frequent as college is ruling my life at the moment. This is just the prologue, so it's quite short, but the actual chapters will be far longer, I promise. Review if you like, I'm not bothered if you do or don't (probably because I rarely review myself...oops) any constructive critiscism is welcome, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Oh, and shouldn't forget this:

Disclaimer: All characters, locations, names etc used in this fic are the property of Christine Morton-Shaw, not me!

I guess I thought it was over. That life would go back to being normal. Well, as normal as it can get when you're corresponding with a not-a-ghost-bright-being person via notes and messages in an ancient, virtually unknown language. But other than that, I know that I took it for granted – something that would always happen, the same way Dad would rush off every five minutes to take a photo, or how Mum would doodle on every scrap of paper she found. And it did go back to normal, for a while. Long enough for me to start thinking, 'Jess, it's the average life for you now. Get used to it.'

But then it stopped.

There had been a few warnings; a few careful words, clues cropping up more often than they had since the Greet two years ago. But it was still sudden. Unexpected. All the messages, all the clues. All the talks with someone who was more a clear, diamond shadow than substance. It all cut off, dead.

So I went down to the cottage. But Epsilon wasn't there anymore.