Cursed

She was dancing.

That was all she could tell, in this dark, glittering crystal cave, full of obsidian and granite; black and cold, yet so beautiful. The floor was hard stone, cold to her bare feet, yet she barely noticed as she danced. Sinuously, as if a snake, she moved gracefully to the haunting music echoing from the very walls. Her black hair swung in braids around her face and neck, swaying as she moved and glided, flying and dreaming. The air was damp, and she was sweating in the cold, but the music was so beautiful, and she just had to dance.

Then someone came, and put his hand in hers, and wrapped his arm around her waist. She could feel his body as she danced with him, not seeing who he was. She pulled away slightly, and increased the tempo of the dance, testing him, to see if he was truly a worthy partner. He tightened his grip on her waist as he matched her steps. Suddenly, he whirled her around swiftly, and she fell back, supported only by his hand on her waist. Startled, she threw her hand back and opened her eyes. She couldn't see his face; it was too dark. But she knew he was smiling. She laughed, and it echoed eerily in the cave. He had passed her test. She snaked her arms around his neck and pulled herself up. The music slowed, as did the dance, turning into a waltz.

She leaned her head against his strong, broad chest. He smelt of vanilla and cloves, almost burning her nose from the intensity of it. He was so warm... she sighed contentedly, and felt him pull her body further against him. His hand touched her face, and a spark raced through her body. Her head shot up again, just in time to see his lips descending towards hers. She gasped and struggled, for some unseen reason, and broke free of his grasp. Panting, she looked at him in confusion. His face was still wreathed in shadows, but his arms were open, asking, Why leave? And she didn't know...

He began slowly walking backwards, deeper and deeper into the cave. "No! Stop! Please, come back!" she cried, running towards him. But he kept walking, and when she reached out to touch him, her fingers brushed at air.

He was gone.

She had never even seen his face.

Natalita Diabla sat up sharply, panting, and looked around frantically. She sat on her familiar bed, in her room, surrounded by rumpled blankets, windowless walls, and blissful darkness. She sighed, and leaned back against her pillows and the wall, closing her eyes. It was a dream, she thought. Just a dream.

But it had seemed so real, the music and the dancing and him with his vanilla scent and his warm, strong chest. The strange longing shot through her again, and she quelled the thought of the dream. But the scent of vanilla and cloves lingered in her nose, the warmth of his chest against her cheek. Sadness descended on her like a cold, wet blanket, muffling the rush of her blood. Stop it, she scolded herself. It was a dream, and it's not like it's ever going to happen again, so you might as well forget it! Groaning, she turned wearily onto her side to see the time. The red, digital numbers from the World Above glowed garishly in the dark. 4:47 AM.

"Oh, crap!" she cried, another phrase from Above. "I'm gonna be late!"

She shot out of bed, cursing when her ankle smashed against something sharp and pointy. Frantic, she felt along the ground until she felt something soft. "Yes!" She ripped off her nightgown and pulled on the long tunic. "Now, where are my pants?" She felt along the walls until she came to long things dangling off of the corner of her dresser. "I am on a roll!" she crowed, pulling them on underneath her. Absently, she pulled out the band holding her braids in a bun and let them scatter down her back as she very gently eased open the door of her bedroom.

The door creaked slightly as it slowly opened against the heavy bear-fur rug in front of it. She winced, and then looked around to see if anyone had heard. Not one other door along the long stone corridor moved. Taking that as a good sign, she eased the door open enough so that she could squeeze through, then pushed it closed again, praying that it wouldn't get stuck on the rug beneath it. When it didn't, she scampered down the corridor, nearly tripping over the large head of the poor bear whose skin currently occupied the floor. Her bare feet padded softly as she felt along the left side of the walls, knocking softly. "C'mon, c'mon, show yourself," she muttered impatiently. A hollow sound echoed back at her. "Yes!"

She pushed at the painted wood, and it opened silently to reveal a secret passageway. Grabbing one of the torches, she ran down the wooden steps two at a time. The cold air burned at her face as she ran and blew foul-smelling smoke into her eyes, making them water and further obscuring her vision. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she grabbed the lever in the side of the wall that she knew was there, and pulled. The wall turned around in a semi-circle, and she was outside the castle walls.

An intense heat pressed on her, and she gratefully sank onto her knees and leaned against the red stone of the wall behind her. A bloody sun rose behind the rugged outline of the dark mountains, and the desert was all golden and rose in its light, though marred by the shadows of the scrub dotting the smooth land here and there. She closed her eyes, glad to have gotten here early.

She heard a snort come not three feet away. Wearily she opened her eyes, and saw a tall boy walk out from behind a patch of scrub. She jumped to her feet, brushing off her clothes, straightening her mussed tunic as the boy stared at her appraisingly. "Ah, yes, milady finally takes an interest in showing up after all. Well done," he drawled, his voice pleasantly earthy and rich.

"Oh, Hell, leave me alone, Matt, it's five AM," Natalita snapped, glaring at the boy. His ruddy skin was turned peach in the ruby light of the rising sun, his sandy hair tousled and unkempt. "And it looks like I'm not the only one to have forgotten our meeting. Is that sleep-sand I see lingering around thine eyes and mouth?"

Matt scowled, but his dove-gray eyes twinkled with mischief. His square jaw set itself firmly as he gazed at her again, trying to spot another flaw to tease. His eyes searched the body of his... friend; an average-sized, curvy sort of girl with mahogany-colored skin, green-flecked brown eyes, and a naturally curving mouth destined for smiling. Natalita grinned, sarcastically saying, "Did you drag me out of bed in the middle of the night just to gawk at me?"

He seemed to shake himself, and then impishly said, "Nah, I've got something to show you."

"Something to show me? You got me out of bed at five IN THE MORNING because you have something to show me."

"Yeah, and, if you don't hurry, we might never get to see it. Come on!" He grabbed her hand and started running, dragging Natalita after him.

"Ah! Matt, slow down before you get us both killed!" Natalita screamed, for he was running down the steep mountainside a little faster than she would have liked. The path was roughly hewn out of the rocks, and jagged shards still plunged out of the path below their feet. Being barefoot, she was only a little afraid of having her foot skewered on a rock. The sun now shone savagely down on the two runners, and she could feel the back of her tunic sticking uncomfortably to her skin. There were no trees in sight to block the glaring sun, and Natalita's breath was getting more and more labored. She was a pretty fast and fit person, but the change in altitude (she usually ran in the mountains) was really taking its toll on her.

Sensing this, Matt squeezed her hand gently and wheezed, "Almost there." Breathless, she nodded, and fell into the strange, dreamlike state you get into when you're too hot.

Suddenly she was jerked to the side into a much cooler, but still humid, cave. She slumped down to the ground and placed her head between her knees, attempting to breathe normally. "I thought that you were the champion, Ms. Amazon Queen!" Matt exclaimed, sitting besides her and shoving her lightly. Glaring at him, Natalita punched his shoulder with as much strength as she could muster. Basically, she tickled him.

"Shut up..." she gasped. Matt laughed, then gently pulled her to her feel and began leading her through the cave.

"It's going to get a little dark as we go on, so don't be scared, Lita," Matt said over his shoulder.

"Scared? Me? Of the dark? Hah! And you say you've known me my whole life!"

Matt shrugged, and it was just then that Natalita realized just how dark it was getting. Although the air in the cave was still blissfully humid, the floor was extremely cold on her bare feet, and she could just barely make out the outline of Matt's body in front of her. The dark seemed to glitter ominously, and, as she used the walls to guide her, Natalita realized that the glittering was created by pure black granite and obsidian. The texture was sharp and jagged, scraping at her palm until they felt raw. Although she was a brave soul, Natalita shivered, feeling a strange déjá vu. "Um... how long does this tunnel go on?" Natalita asked cautiously.

"Oh, are you scared, Natalita? You, who I've known all my life as the 'fearless Amazon?' I find that hard to believe."

"I am not scared, necessarily, I'm just-"

Matt looked at her appraisingly, raising a questioning eyebrow.

"All right, all right, I'm scared. There, now, are you happy? Now, when does this tunnel end?"

Matt smirked, and then thoughtfully replied, "Actually, we should be out soon. Can't you feel the air?"

"What are you talking abo-" Natalita stopped, feeling cool, damp air on her face. It carried the scent of dogwood and thyme, and seemed so familiar, yet so... alien. Quite suddenly, her feet were upon grassy earth instead of cold, hard stone. The grass tickled her feet. She looked around her in wonder, having never seen anything like this ever before, but it was so wonderful and frightening, and she wanted to stay here forever.

A bridge stood over a river, between Hell and the faraway torture of the Realm, where no passion could ever be felt. At a length too great to be counted, an eerie feeling of calmness and serenity bathed over the whole thing, making her never want to fight or speak another word in vain again. This was truly a place of peace.

The river flowed silently underneath it, its depths dark and mysterious, flowing effortlessly with not a wave, not a single blemish in the smooth, polished mirror of the flowing water. The moon and stars stood on the left side of the bridge, towards the light air and cool winds that was the Realm, while the sun glared on the right side, marking where Hell and all of its heat and fire and torture and passion stood. And, in the very center of the bridge, there was... nothing. Pure nothing. It was the only undecided, stretching for miles, the one place where it is neither night nor day... the center of the bridge... the place of endless possibilities.

On the side of the Realm grew dogwoods, their blossoms plentiful and fragrant, sending their scent into the air without the aid of wind, sickly sweet and nauseating. On the side of Hell, huge brier bushes loomed over everything, casting their shadows over the bridge, gaps of sunlight streaming through the gaps of barbs. The branches of both trees grew and stretched out towards the Nothing, where they entwined into one another, life and death, beauty and ugliness, Realm and Hell, a canopy of what should be but what the world refused to accept. And, still, all was silent. No wind, no water... nothing. It was as silent as the End of the World.

"Oh, Matt," she whispered, stunned into awe. "It's beautiful."

"Yes, I know."

Natalita released his hand, and walked forward. She twirled in the shadows of the briers, feeling the air upon her face, the grass beneath her feet, the teasing barbs of the briers grazing her arms, and she laughed delightedly. It rung out like a bell, and faded away just as gradually. She twirled until she felt water lapping at the tips of her toes. She stopped, and looked down. She had come to the banks of the river, and stood before it, gazing at her reflection in the dark, deep waters.

Her reflection... changed. Once, it was only her standing there, but then the water rippled softly, and she saw herself and another figure-was it Matt? -in a cave, close to each other and... dancing? Yes, they were dancing. Puzzled, she tried to call Matt over, but her voice stuck inside of her throat. The image changed again, and she saw herself crying, hands outstretched, beseeching someone... and then she was crumpling to the floor, light flooding out of her. Oh my... I'm dead, she thought, trying to make out the shadow behind her reflection's dead corpse...

"Whoa now, Lita, you don't want to go swimming today!" Strong hands gripped her forearms and dragged her away from the water. Struggling, she screeched, "Let me go! Let me go, I have to see into the water!"

"Lita, you were closer to the water than I would have liked. By that, I mean almost completely submerged. I think it's best we leave before the Causage manages to take you completely under its spell." Matt gently took her arm and led her away, but her mind still pored over the visions in the water. What did all of that mean... was I seeing into the future? And, if so, when is that going to happen? How long until it does?

They entered the cave again, and this time the floor felt like the grass, the darkness was light, the walls felt as smooth as polished marble. Surprised, Natalita pulled away from Matt and stood there in the middle of it, letting the breeze entering the cave swirl about her, drawing her clothes and hair away from her with its cold fingers. The wind seemed to bring... music? Yes, yes, it was music. And such beautiful music! Like nothing she had ever heard, it took her away on a sweep of soaring notes, twirling and entwining itself in her being. Natalita began to dance, commanded to do so by the music. Her feet seemed to glide across the floor; her eyes were closed in ecstasy of the dance.

She's beautiful...Matt thought, gazing at her, beginning to hear the music. He was seized by a desire to dance with her, to sweep her off her feet and carry her away without having to hide himself, to... He smiled sadly. None of that could happen, except that he should dance with her. Smiling, he stepped into her path, grabbed her, and began leading the dance. Natalita opened her eyes, scowling playfully, and begin dancing faster and more complex steps. Realizing what she was doing, Matt smirked, matching each step with his own. Struck with an idea, he whirled her around several times until she fell back into his arms. Supported only at the waist, Natalita looked up at him and laughed, her eyes sparking gleefully. It rang like the music about him, and he drowned in it.

She righted herself and drew closer to his body, slightly tired from her exercise. Matt could feel his body stiffen slightly, heat coursing through his veins as he wrapped his arms around her, dancing slowly. Natalita leaned her head on his chest, sighing in content. He flushed slightly, looking down at her. She was so warm, so beautiful... the smell of cinnamon and sandalwood wafted towards him, the scent of her... Natalita sighed again, with her arms snaked around his body. Matt gazed down at her, and lost control of his urge. Carefully, he tilted her face up, his fingers at her chin. She looked up, confusion in her gorgeous green-flecked eyes, and he couldn't stand it anymore. He leaned down and gently kissed her. Her lips were so soft, she was so warm, and he dimly felt himself pulling her closer to him, deepening the kiss... He felt her stiffen, frozen in surprise and horror, then struggle violently, and he let her go.

Natalita ripped herself out of Matt's arms, horrified. That strange feeling was rushing through her again... had she been cursed? Why was this happening? "Wh-why did you... I mean... you... you..."

She couldn't continue.

"Oh, father..." she whispered in fear of what had just happened. Matt looked at her sadly, dejected. She shook her head slowly, backing away, tears filling her eyes. "No..." she whispered, and ran away, tears now streaming silently down her face, running for home, running away so she would never have to be cursed again.

Matt watched her go.

* * *

Natalita sat at the table, silently pecking at her food, morosely reflecting on what had happened that day. Why did he do that? We've been friends forever, and he's never shown any sort of interest in me before. So why now... wait. Could it be that he's cursed as well? Then his actions wouldn't have been his own! But, if they weren't his own, then why did he look so sad...?

"You seem quiet tonight, daughter," a voice boomed from the head of the table. "Anything on your mind that you'd like to share?"

Natalita straightened abruptly, staring at the man, her father, with a startled expression. Her father was a large man, with dark chocolate-colored skin, tightly curled black hair, and blue eyes. As odd as that might sound, he was really quite handsome. His torso and arms bulged with muscles barely concealed by the too-tight red robes he wore. A long leather scabbard hung from the belt on his waist, the tarnished gold handle of his sword just barely visible. He had the presence of a king-and rightly he should! - as he gazed upon his daughter with concern.

"No, Father. I'm just thinking."

"And you've hardly touched your hart; eat up, Lita, eat up. We don't want you going hungry, and you're thin enough as it is!"

"Yes, Father." Natalita returned to picking at her meat. The table was one of those long tables, designed to exactly fit this large stone hall bedecked with colorful tapestries and such. Yet, no one was seated at the table. No one else was eating the huge roasted hart with potatoes and turnips set out by their servants. Save for her father, she was alone... and she wanted Matt. Sighing, she tried to suppress the thoughts of Matt, not wanting anyone ever to know.

Her father was looking at her oddly, and his eyes were now glowing a soft green. Quickly, Natalita tried to quench the thoughts of her day, especially the cave, but it was too late. Her father's eyes widened, and then narrowed in anger, glinting a steely blue. He abruptly got up from the table, pushing his chair. "Enough food, Nati. It is time for you to go to bed. Now," he commanded, his voice rough with anger, his hands balling into fists again and again.

"What's wrong?" Natalita cried, frightened.

"Nothing's wrong, now go! GO!"

Natalita ran out of the dining hall towards her room, frightened by this mere shade of her father's wrath. What will he do? What did he see... oh, Matt, we're done for...

* * *

Natalita sat anxiously on her bed, clutching the pillow to her, listening for something, anything... Oh please, father, don't kill him, don't hurt him, oh please... He was in great danger. She knew this. Matt, oh Matt, why? She didn't want him to be hurt... it wasn't his fault; he'd been cursed, they both had. Surely the curse would wear off and everything would go back to normal... right?

Suddenly, there was a loud crash from downstairs, and Natalita jumped. Cautiously, she tried to hear more, but the stonewalls were too thick. Shaking in fear, she crept out of the room, and sneaked to the staircase, from the top of which she listened.

Another crashing noise, accompanied by a scream. "Please, sir, don't hurt me! I did nothing wrong, sir! I-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!" Screaming in pain, the voice cut off. Matt...

Now another voice screamed, sounding like the hellhounds that guarded the Gate. "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME WHAT YOU DID AND DID NOT DO, BOY!!!! I HAVE LOOKED INTO THE MIND OF MY DAUGHTER, WHOSE HEART YOU HAVE BROKEN!!! YOU HAVE DENIED THE CURSE, BOY!!!!!! THE PENALTY FOR THIS IS DEATH!!!!!"

"Sir, I did nothing, it was your daughter, sir, your daughter..."

"BE SILENT!!!" Matt's scream broke through the air, ripping at Natalita's heart. "WOMEN ARE ROMANTIC, LOVING FOOLS!!!! NONE OF THEM HAVE EVER, NOR WILL EVER, DENY THE CURSE!!! SO, IT MUST HAVE BEEN YOU WHO DENIED HER LOVE!!! IT MUST HAVE BEEN YOU WHO BROKE HER AND BURNED HER!!!!! IT MUST HAVE BEEN, AND COULD ONLY HAVE BEEN YOU!!!!! NOW DIE!!!!!!"

"NO, FATHER!!!" she screamed, running down the staircase. "Father, please! He did nothing, Father, nothing!"

Her father held a sword of flame above his head, sizzling with white-hot heat, obviously about to plunge it into Matt's body. Matt was crumpled onto the floor, bleeding and broken, blood streaming from bruises that had opened up from the chairs and objects thrown at him, which lay scattered about him. The anger on her father's face was terrifying, eyes now a bloody red, skin a darker red, teeth and claws, and terrible black horns. He glared at her with murder in his eyes. "CHILD, DO NOT TRY TO DEFEND THIS MORTAL!!! I KNOW WHAT HE HAS DONE; HE SHALL NEVER DO IT AGAIN!!"

"FATHER, IT WAS ME!!!"

He looked at her, surprise softening his features. "WHAT?"

"It was me, Father, me. Matt and I were dancing in the cave and he was being so sweet and I didn't think it meant anything so I leaned on him and he pulled up my face and kissed me and I pulled away and ran, oh Father, please don't hurt him, he didn't do anything wrong." She was sobbing by this time, on her knees, clutching at her father's legs, sobbing piteously. Her father looked down on her, and he was quickly turning back into his normal self, sadness written on every feature. "You pulled away from him?"

"Yes, Father, it's all my fault," she sobbed.

Quickly, his expression became one of disbelief, and his features became that of his anger. "NO!! I WILL NOT BELIEVE THIS!!! YOU ARE LYING TO PROTECT HIM; I KNOW IT!!! I SAW YOU'RE MIND, NATALITA!! I KNOW WHAT HAPPENED, AND YOU WERE NOT THE ONE TO PULL AWAY!! NOW, STAND ASIDE, GIRL, SO I CAN FINISH THIS ONE OFF!!!!"

"Father, look into my mind again, and you will see what really happened. Please, Father, don't hurt an innocent boy!" Natalita pleaded, shielding Matt with her body, tears streaming down her face. Her father glared at her, and his eyes once again glinted a metallic green sharp with fury. Natalita felt as if clawed hands were running through her mind, ripping through it to find the memory. She thought of the events of that day, and focused on them. Her father's expression changed to one of surprise, then disbelief, then sadness. He cast aside his sword of flame, anger fleeing from him as he ran forward and pulled Natalita into a tight embrace, holding back sobs himself. "Oh my Lita, my Lita, why, why, why?" he choked into her shoulder, his strong arms wrapped around her.

"What, Father?"

Her father released her slowly, despair reigning over his face as he explained, "Dear one, the Sword of the Elements is only unsheathed when someone must be killed for their defiance, and cannot be returned to its scabbard until that retribution has been obtained." He took her hands. "Lita, I had believed that Matt had defied my curse. I drew the Sword, about to strike when you came and admitted everything. Oh, Natalita, you must die now."

Natalita stood frozen in shock. "I-I have to... die?" She remained quiet for a moment, then straightened, head up, shoulders back, the picture of a proud monarch. "Very well, then. As it is my duty."

Her father gazed at her sadly before picking up the sword. It had turned from fire to water, its blue surface shimmering and rippling as it moved, coolness radiating off of it. He raised it, its blade looking to plunge into her stomach. "Goodbye, daughter," he murmured before he plunged the sword in.

There's no pain... there's no blood, why can't I feel anything? Why am I drifting? Oh, but what a wonderful feeling... then why am I crying?

"NATALITA!" Matt screamed, struggling to get up, reaching towards her glowing form.

"Stay down, boy!"

"NO!! LITA, NO, DON'T LEAVE ME HERE!!!!"

Her head was tilted back, on her face an expression of sheer ecstasy. Her body stood relaxed as it glowed a soft blue. Tears began flowing down her cheeks, dropping to the ground, yet her expression never changed.

Plop. Pitter-pats bare skin cold floor little girl's voice, "Papa! Papa!" big man "What is it, sweetheart, what's wrong?" "Mama! Mama no get up! Go night-night in garden and no get up! I want mama get up, Papa!" "No... not so soon..." running boots on stone, scary big voice, "Miranda! Miranda!" far away now, in the garden, in the garden, "NO! MIRANDA! DON'T DIE, PLEASE!! DON'T LEAVE ME HERE ALONE!!!"

"What did you do to her?" Matt asked, horrified by the memories spilling out of the tears.

"The Sword decreed her death be first that of the soul," her father murmured, regarding her sadly. "She will cry out every last one of her memories before she dies. It is the way it was meant to be."

Plop. "Father, I'm not a little girl anymore, you don't have to treat me like I'm a baby!" "DON'T YOU DARE TELL ME HOW I CAN AND CANNOT TREAT YOU!!! YOU'RE LUCKY I DON'T SEND YOU TO LIVE IN THE DUNGEONS!!" "You never let me do anything, never let me go outside, never let me watch the stars, always telling me what to do! It's like ever since Mother died, you're too afraid that I'll turn out the same! Well, guess what, I'm not dying anytime soon, so you can just quit acting as though if you let me have a bit of freedom I'll bite the dust!" "BE SILENT, GIRL!!!" A slap, a stifled cry. "I AM YOUR FATHER, AND MY RULES ARE LAW!! YOU ARE NEVER TO SEE THAT BOY AGAIN, DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!! YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT KIND OF THINGS BOYS THINK ABOUT, NOR WILL YOU EVER! Now, get back to your room. We will never have this discussion again." Tears, running up stone and away.

"HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR OWN DAUGHTER!!" Matt screamed, fighting to get to Natalita. Her father effortlessly held him back, watching her in a desolate way.

"Do you think I wanted to? Do you think I wanted to watch my own daughter cry out the life that I helped her lead until she crumples to the floor, dead and without a single speck of heart left? Do you think I wanted to send her up to that forsaken Heaven, where our dead roam, passionless, cold, uncaring? Do you?"

"Then why did you?"

Her father sighed heavily, remorse in his eyes, dejection in his body. He gazed out quietly at his daughter. "It isn't easy, you know, being the ruler of this place. You can never let anyone defy your curse, yet you cannot allow yourself to fall under it," he murmured, turning to Matt. "If I let one person get away with defying the curse, soon everyone will know that it can be defied. Then there will be no way to control the people. Nobody would be able to love, and everyone would die."

"What do you mean?"

"Do you know, Matt, that the appearance of humans disrupted the entire course of life? The balance was corrupted when we came, when that idiot God cast us down here. We killed all, we fought wars, we tamed disease, we cast away the natural boundries of life. Grim was going insane, creating new disease left and right, and Ezmaraia was practically dead, with the unity destroyed. Teskin ruled this world of chaos. So, it was up to me to create the curse and cast it on them all, to control them. This is the only way, Matt. No one must ever defy it."

Natalita's memories had slowed. Two final tears poised on the end of her nose before falling to the ground.

Plop. "Oh, Matt, it's beautiful." "Yes, I know." Light footsteps on grass, followed by laughter...

Plop. I can't stand it... she's so beautiful... I have to do something. But does she feel the same? I don't care anymore. If I don't do something, I'll die... but she might... no. I won't back down this time... I can't... I love her...

"She knew? How could she hear that?" Matt asked, confused.

"She had developed her power," her father replied sadly. "Too bad her promise was cut short."

Her body crumpled slowly, the expression of bliss still on her face. Her eyes were open now, and they seemed to gaze at Matt as she fell forward, a lifeless corpse. This time, her father let him go, and he ran to catch her. She fell into his arms, and Matt laid her gently down onto the floor, face up so he could gaze into those beautiful brown eyes. Tears began falling as he pressed her head to his chest and sobbed. "Lita, oh Lita, I love you, I love you, please don't leave me here," he whispered into her hair as he wept, his tears falling down onto her face and rolling slowly down her cheeks.

Suddenly, a light pooled in Natalita's open eyes, dripping down her face along with Matt's tears. Her father, noting this, pulled Matt away and let her fall to the floor. "What did you do that for, old man!" Matt cried before he saw Natalita's corpse levitate slowly into and upright position, the light still flooding down her cheeks. "Oh my..." The light was pooling at her feet, building up, taking the shape of something... slowly, bare feel, legs coming into view, then building up around hips towards a curvy waist, a full torso and a neck, finally a head, all slowly being filled in and detailed by the light. Wispy braids formed on the figure's head as its features became more distinct. As soon as the face formed, Matt recognized what it was. "Lita," he whispered, reaching out to touch her, but pulled back by her father. The figure smiled, and -walked? Glided? -towards them, its eyes the only speck of color in its face. It stood before them, as if contemplating who to go to, before moving towards Natalita's father.

"Satan Diablo, my father, my king, ruler of Hell and all love, I come to you in forgiveness for the way you have murdered your daughter," the figure said in a voice like the wind during a rainstorm, touching Satan's face with its fingertips, its touch like spider webs covered in dew. The figure smiled again, and then turned to Matt. He stood petrified, ready for great wrath, trembling in fear. The figure's smile gentled, and she pulled close to Matt and gave him the barest kiss, first on the left cheek, then the right, then his lips. It was like kissing the rain. "I forgive you as well, Matthew Jennings. You were my greatest friend. Do not grieve for me." Steadily, the figure backed away, and the light that made it up seemed to drain away backwards, as if into a portal. Slowly, its body faded, until only the eyes remained, looking at them. "Remember me;" and the eyes were gone.

The End