Not only one story

A

Black and purple

No one knows what is happening with the black haired girl sitting on the grand stairs, her yellow dress filled with black tears, the whole room stares at her in confusion. I hear a bit of mumbling around the room then there's a brief but painful silence.

A loud scream follows echoing across the ball room all of them grab for their ears with no succes they're to late, just like me that girl is doing it.

she's making her worst nightmare come true tonight. her chest opens up and a black substance shoots outside a tickle across my face confirms my thoughts I create my own purple onto and around my hand, right before the black touches me I rip it open when it passed me.

I walk up to the girl still sitting on the stairs, evaporated people laying everywhere the purple substance still covering my right hand, I grab onto her shoulder she looks up and her pupils grow wide as slowly the purple reaches her heart and she turns to ashes I scoop up her black ashes and put them into a closed of wooden box I lock it with purple and turn my back, swing the doors open and stand outside in the cold winter snow I put my hood over my head and with the box in my hands I walk away from the castle no one knew and no one will ever know what really happened. From now on it'll all be a myth, a legend or a fictional story.

It's better that way for everyone.

It's better that they don't know about us.

It's better that we stay a secret.