Prologue- The mystic lady.

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Unto you, the reader; I shall warn you about the edges of my journal and I shall help you bleed to preserve you in its scent.

-Meredith (third person)-

"They say there's a witch who lurks in Sky Lark City, in the narrowest streets and the darkest alleys, looking for little kids to feed on their souls," whispered a little girl to a group of kids as most of them gasped with shock and fear.

Meredith smiled faintly as she walked past them and suddenly came to a halt. She swiftly turned around and leaned in, toward the little girl. "It's a myth, little one," she whispered in her ear and planted a finger over her lips. The little girl stared at Meredith, mouth agape, and watched her with a hint of confusion in her shiny eyes. Meredith with a wink then walked away.

She was quite amused with how these myths about her were everything but the truth. She was amused by how she was portrayed but a chill of excitement that ran through her veins was evidence enough that it didn't bother her. In fact, she loved it. The scent of fear. She loved every bit of it.

She walked down a narrow path, making heads turn and look at her. Every soul wanted to consume her brutal smell. They were held captive for seconds as some looked at her with desire, some with hatred, and others with disgust but nobody dared approach her.

Meredith walked around for hours, observant and cautious but nothing caught her eye, nothing made her day out of the ordinary. She halted near a crimson door in a deserted alley. One would feel weird to find a passage made into a place like this. A door with golden borders made of redwood, the curves on it sharper than a serpent's tooth.

Meredith didn't want to open it just yet, she looked up at the gray, rhenish sky, giving this world another chance as she waited for a few, final moments and like a miracle a boy stumbled past her, running with all his might toward the other end.

She was taken aback. Her hair fluttered in the subtle wind as she followed the boy to a dump. He appeared to be in his teenage years, silky strands of untrimmed hair fell over his eyes and covered half of his dirt-driven face. His slender arms fell lazily to his side as he held onto a packet of food-corn dogs, perhaps. His clothes were nowhere near clean, a pair of worn out trousers gathered at the base of his ankles. Meredith wasn't sure if she was amused or disturbed by the sight as the boy handed the packet of food he was holding to a little kid, who without thinking instantly started gobbling it down. The boy himself looked like he had been starving for days, his complexion seemed pale and yellow from the lack of nutrients.

Meredith wanted to watch a little longer. Besides, this moment was very precious, she was strangely curious for the first time ever since she stepped foot into this universe. Her eyes followed the boy's movements. He gave a small smile to the little kid and ruffled his hair before walking away in the opposite direction. Meredith decided to follow him further down. The secret door in the alley disappeared with Meredith out of sight. She quietly followed the boy, a few steps away trying not to make it obvious.

The boy reached into his pocket and produced a single lar, looked at it longingly before putting it back inside. She decided to play a little trick to test the boy further. With a flick of her wrist, she made a hundred lars appear before the boy's sight. He stopped in his tracks. To say he was a little tempted would be an understatement because the boy, unbothered, walked past the hundred-lars note.

Meredith was once again dumbfounded.

Could it be that the boy failed to notice what it was? No, she was sure he had stopped and looked at it. What he rejected was probably a week's worth of free food. She thought.

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