AR: Beginning of the End

Prologue

"When the skies bleed prismatic over the horizon of your world, my flesh shall judge the lives that have claimed the innocent. Your cries will pierce the heavens, begging for forgiveness, and only then will you be cleansed of your sins."

I never believed in fate. Nor did I believe in destinies or prophecies. Hopes and dreams were all I lived on, and now... They are only nightmares and sorrow. This is my story, but it was the story seen through our eyes.

I guess I'll start from the beginning of my life, since that's where most stories start. I remember Mother telling me about the day I was born. It was a freezing day in February; the weather was terrible, and it only continued to get worse. Heavy snow fell outside, piling up in mounds and blocking doors and windows. "It was the worst blizzard anyone had seen in decades," Mother said.

She laid in her bed in cold sweat, going into labor. There were no doctors or nurses, or anyone else in the room with her really. Just one man. The man to be known as my father. I won't go into detail about how he and my mother met, but I can say that it was under very... different circumstances. At least they believed in love at first sight.

My mother gave faint cries of discomfort, due to the baby pushing out of her. The loose curls of tan locks stuck to her sweat covered face, hiding the pain it showed. Her jade green eyes were shut tightly, only opening every few seconds to let a tear fall down her flushed face. She could only cry and whimper as hours went on; her lover holding onto her pale hand tightly, trying to keep her calm.

After what seemed like to be an eternity, loud infant cries could be heard. She delivered a healthy baby girl, who was wrapped in a blanket and given to her mother. The woman could only smile as more tears fell down her face, before she cried out in agony once more. There was something wrong. The baby was given back to the father as his love was still in great pain. There was another baby coming, and it was coming fast. Hours passed on, and soon another baby girl was born. Who would have thought that there'd still be one more baby left to go.

Hours and hours of excruciatingly painful labor, three healthy baby girls lay wrapped in blankets, crying in their mother's arms. By medical terms, they were triplets, but more so fraternal than identical. The father studied them closely, but did not seem concerned about the dissimilarities of his offspring. He knew he was the only father, given the circumstances that they were in. Those said circumstances are how the two met, and became husband and wife. But that's for later.

It didn't take much to look at the infants and assume they weren't related, yet all three were brought into the world by the same woman, who now lay tired in her bed. The first baby, who happened to be me, had smooth olive skin, with eyes of verdigris green. Small wisps of cocoa hair were all I had when I was born, and my mother would gently brush the strands with her hand, stroking my almost bald head. It calmed me into a state of content, ceasing my cries.

The second infant was as pink as cotton candy. She was plump and rather chubby, in contrast to my small and thin state. Her eyes were the color of blooming lilacs, so beautiful and full of life older than Mother Nature herself. She had a lot more hair than me, a light titian color, curly like a sheep's wool yet soft as silk. She had hair like her mother; soft locks of orange. But mother's hair was straight, like mine. Many attempts were made to silence the her, but she cried and cried. Mother would always tell us that she was singing joyfully instead of crying like a normal infant. Maybe that's the reason my younger sister is so happy all the time.

The last infant was more quiet, but much more finicky. She had short wisps of ebony hair, much like her father's. Though, her eyes were like crimson spheres, tiny pools of blood. If she wasn't a baby, she'd be the face of pure evil. Her skin was pale and thin, and she was much smaller than her sister and I, almost sickly looking. But neither parent thought much about it then, nor would they get a chance to.

Their next step was to get rid of us (no, not kill us or harm us in anyway, but to send us off, supposedly to a better life). Our parents wouldn't be able to take proper care of us, due to said circumstances mentioned beforehand. What are those circumstances? Well, I suppose I can tell you now, but just partial information. It's not really my place to tell her story. Not yet, anyways.

My mother had been accused of witchcraft. She has been a wanted criminal for a long time. Whether or not the accusations are true, it is not my place to say. All I know is that my mother was involved with something bigger than she knew... Something that now plagues my life forever.

My father left my mother to rest while he carried our small infant bodies in a basket, covered with blankets and such to keep us warm and safe from the horrid blizzard. He walked miles at a time, trying to get as much distance away from the house. The further he carried us, the more sure he was that we would never be traced back to our biological parents. It was for the best, they thought, to send us away from the danger and darkness that awaited in the shadows.

It was dark when father had left, and we did not arrive to our destination until midday. Father's hands and lips were blue from frostbite, and he shook violently from the cold. His body was numb inside and out, but it didn't stop him from delivering us to a safer place. The basket was gently set in front of the old wooden door to the house. He lightly knocked on the door with his stiff, dead hand and awaited an answer. It didn't take long before the door was opened by a small elderly woman. Her hair was short and thin, grizzled to the ends in silver streaks. Her face was rotund and wrinkled, similar to that of a pug. She donned a large grey robe with matching slippers.

Her dark almond eyes studied the man before him, then peered down to the blanket-covered basket. She gave a small affirmative nod and brought the basket inside, then closed the door, leaving our father outside in the cold without so much as a single word. Why she didn't invite him in, no one knows. Maybe she knew he wouldn't last long. Maybe she didn't allow strangers in her home. Who knows?

Father barely made it home to tell mother that he succeeded in delivering us to the aged woman. Later in our lives, we were told that our mother became very ill about a day after she had given birth to us. She had died from eclampsia, and father died by her side from hypothermia a short time after her. That night we cried for hours. As babies, it was normal for us to wail every now and then, but I believe we knew that our real parents had died. I believe that we felt it in our souls.

From infants up, we knew the woman that raised us as "Mother." That is what she wanted us to call her. Until the age of thirteen, she was just that: our mother. We didn't know we weren't her biological children, and we didn't know what happened to our real parents until many, many years later. All we knew was to live our lives like normal kids; free from most problems, from insecurities, from the troubles of the outside world. Who knew that on our thirteenth birthday our lives would take a turn for the worse? I did, because I saw it with my own eyes.

Hi everyone! For those that are reading this for the first time- welcome! I hope you like it! Those that have read the story when it was "Aqua the Hedgehog," yes I have COMPLETELY changed the story line. Some aspects are still there, but the plot and story line is different. I am sorry to those that liked it the way it was before my leave of absence, but I needed to make a few decisions, story-wise and life-wise. Anyways, I hope you all enjoy the newly revised story. I will have up the next chapter today, and then try to consistently upload biweekly.  If you guys have any questions, feel free to comment! Like it? Star it!