Amara, the child of the nameless village, gazed around the neat room, and yet for her, it was apparent it was the familiar work of someone she knew. On the floor was nothing, but she saw more than others; there was a red liquid, rubbed and cleaned, but it had sunk in the wood, leaving a stain. She wondered and looked around the room, rushing in the other, opening the door, to see clothes and the tidy room.

For someone who had left the village, the items were all here, the room was clean, and the blood wiped; the girl realized it could be nothing else but murder.

She gasped, in surprise and pain, remembering the man who lived here. He was kind to her and warm to others and lived remembering the family he lost. He hated the night, the monsters, and the blight, yet; he was the kindest, most excellent, and most sympathetic soul.

It pained her, him so easily forgotten by the other, his life and death hidden by the villagers.

"I'll remember."

The child promised the lost soul, forgotten by all others, on her feet she rose, marching back to another. The houses she searched for, the others who were lost, but as more seasons passed, more there were. She wondered, who would be so cruel to take so many lives, but it was an answer she didn't find.

She searched and researched, stayed awake at night, and traveled outside and inside. There was much to cover, but she still realized the lost who came to find peace were nowhere to be discovered. The village that grew became smaller and smaller; even her grandfathers and grandmother were more haggard.

When she was five, she lost another; this time, it was her grandfather who went missing. Powerless and heartbroken, she vowed to find the one she was after.

It was still all futile, much like all the efforts of the other child. She flew in the sky, using what she put together, but there was still an invisible barrier. She found herself trapped in this heaven.

Others said that outside is hell, but being trapped here, unable to let go of her failure, was the most hopeless. All she tried from the sky, from the ground, and under, through the river, or sewer. Only for years to pass by, at the age of six, she heard of a different way, and her father was the one who led the way. He told her of a story, an olden tale, of the old world and the day that the sun changed.

The world was prosperous, and the cities like Elysium, but lesser, were everywhere. The humans reached their peak, but the world's end was like a sword hanging above their neck. One day came to a conqueror; famine and death were the companions they brought with him to war. The healer was the first to die, and then the earth cried. Then came the disaster, crushing everything under its feet.

Yet, before the silence reigned, one rose, saving the last of humanity's seed. She pushed the disaster back and made sun her home. The sun's light made the day a paradise, and at night, the ghost of the past came to haunt.

She was the first to walk the path that was thought to be lost or impossible, and so rose the spiritualist, the enemies of science. The world was divided; much like day and night, the Realist and Spiritualists started a new fight. Yet this war wasn't one where arms were used, but of progress and God's.

Each wanted a God of their own, one that would prove the other was wrong. Time passed, and none had succeeded, and she was the hope of Realist. The barrier protected her from the evil and lost, who would take her life since she had what they sought. There was a mask she had to wear to hide who she was, but if she mastered the ways of Spiritualist, maybe there was a way.

The child heard it all, knowing there was a way, so her search started again. The girl went through all of Elysium, forgetting about the seasons during her hunt. She found much and much about the history, but she was interested in a much greater mystery.

She started her practice of the seven paths she knew, and it didn't take long to master a few. The child of fate was face to face, with the snake that overlooked. It was coiled around Kundalini's stagnant energy, the universe's life force, present in her and others. It was a fight, more brutal than any other, for herself and all others.

The energy was in everything since they all were the child of the universe, it took weeks and months, and she sat in one place, hidden from the sun. Her mother, her father, and everyone was worried. They all surrounded her, keeping her company.

It was the strength she needed, to learn what she had to, yet she was barely even successful in removing a single coil. After months and months of hard work, she opened her eyes; the first thing she saw was her mother's waiting eyes. She didn't feel weak, hungry, or thirsty, even though she hadn't had water or food for months, but there was strength in her weak arms. Her mother hugged her again, but this time it was different; she realized the strength hidden within. Her father wasn't far behind, but a worry still plagued his mind as happy as he was.

He wondered, and asked his wife, and apologized, but he had hoped that their daughter would speak, hoping this would be of her need.

The mother wasn't as angry as her husband thought; she always knew this path too would her daughter walk. She called for sages to learn the spiritualist who was far ahead and wondered if they could help her daughter talk. Many wondered what the problem was, but then one said she hadn't found her fate.

They spoke of a place on the other side of a globe that recently had become a tourist spot.

The parents wondered, and the child raised her eyes; while the months had passed, something too happened on the other side.

The girl, the night child, sat in the empty grounds; her eyes gazed towards her own house. Everyone she knew, she loved, had all but died, and the last one in this village was the child's mother. She refused to believe, and so she decided, today, she would face her, and truth would come to light.

The child went in, only to find her mother and disappeared, she gasped, scared, and started to run. Her eyes searched around, room each, remembering everyone who lived here. She cried out for her mother, worried and scared when her mother's arm enveloped her.

Again, she was in the warmest place on earth, yet her mother shivered. She said, her voice breaking, "My child, you are blessed by heaven and earth. The Goddess's light shines on you through the night. You are the most gifted, be it in the past or future. My greatest treasure…let mother protect you a little longer?"

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Amara, the child, turned her eyes, turquoise, and still so bright, they gazed into her mother's, hollowed and haggard. The kindness and warmth had all but disappeared. Her gaze deepened, and she saw the past through her eyes, the bodies she found and covered, and her struggle between what was wrong and right.

The child stood there, shocked to the core, realizing that the monster she sought was her own shadow so late.

She saw it, the scenes flash, be it man, woman, or child, they all knew love for her, and the love went too far for it to become twisted. It was them or her, their desire or happiness, and they all chose her.

She was the monster who twisted it all and didn't even realize who she was.

She was soaked in blood since the day she was born; it didn't matter how much she wiped; that was who she was.

She closed her eyes, hoping to avoid the rivers of blood coming closer to her, from their homes, houses, and places; she was standing in a pool, creation of her own.

She opened her eyes, meeting with her mother, who smiled, through the pain, still comforting her, "You are not in the wrong here. You are just a child…who didn't know any better. It was me…us…and the world. I wanted these days to last a bit longer, and so did all the others. But child, we love you, forever and ever. This is the last of our creation, the one that carries our souls, spirit, and love, wear it, and protect yourself from the world."

Amara gazed at the mask, beautiful and ever changing; her mother, whom she thought lived, was also within. She touched the mask that held her mother's spirit, bringing it closer to her face to wear. The mask moved, as if alive, wrapped itself around her face and eyes. It hid her skin, turning into clothes; there wasn't a part of her skin visible anymore.

Her long hair was the only one left out, but the girl could care less, and she cried out. The land trembled to answer her painful cries, the trees rose, the forest grew, and with each cry, they grew. Butterflies and bees, insects and trees, everything was born, and soon the deadly beasts answered her call.

Born to keep everything out and her in, the forest that grew in a day was something to fear.

The change didn't go unnoticed, and soon the others came. Those from near and afar came to see and explore the forest, but most would never leave.

Those who escaped cried out in fear; no one was powerful enough to go nearby.

More and more who sought a challenge came to the most crucial test of their lives, but none left alive or made it inside.

The fate had made itself known, bringing the other one who was born, she stayed at the place nearby, gazing at the tourist who came from far and wide. Her eyes searched for an answer to why she was here, for a fate eluded her bright gaze. Her ears heard every rumor; her eyes followed every stranger. Her father came over, bending forward to look at her, his gaze searching for an answer like her. He wanted to hear his little girl's voice, one that he longed for six years.

He pressed his lips and smiled, his eyes curving into a gentle expression; he patted her head. She gazed at him, unblinking and confused, and yet deep in those eyes, there was nothing that escaped her sight. Not the disappointment of her father or many others who followed in the distance. They hid in the crowd, and the guests, watching over her and her family.

They, too, wanted for her to speak. She turned her head, looking outside the shop she was sitting in, it was near the beach, without walls, with bar and restaurant, all in one. She was about to leave, go to her mother, but came to a stop because of the bartender.

"Are you here because of the Ghostly Forest?"

"Ghostly Forest? Ah, is that the name given to the Forest that appeared nearby?"

Her father, almost the Ruler of Elysium, was one of the most influential people from both sides, and yet he was so polite. He smiled at the bartender, taking the drink.

"Appeared? No, nothing like that. There have been mercenaries worldwide; they wouldn't be going to that Deadly Forest if it was something that simple."

"Oh?" Her father was curious, and so was she; they had been too busy. She improved a few and made one; that was enough to take the years. They could have learned everything before coming here, but they waited for fate to be their guide.

"Then what is the story behind that?"

The bartender smiled, leaning forward, "I was one of the earliest and one of the few who rejected the offer or I am sure I would have died."

"Offer?"

"Yes, there was a road that led to safety. Whether day or night, monsters or blight, they could go there, and even if they had nothing, they could make a life. It didn't matter if you were a criminal, scientist, or priest; each could live a new life. Most who went there were lost in the night or had lost everything they held dear, and they lived a life of bliss. At least for a few years."

"Few years? What happened then?"

"Then came the blight and corruption, stronger than any other; they fell after the other. It didn't matter who they were or how strong until there was only one left. I heard it was a child, the Demon from Hell. Everyone who saw her never lived to tell. Her beauty, indescribable, by men or women alike, or by the sages or scholars, even now, when she is just a child."

"Demon Child?"

"That is what I call her, so don't tell the others. Some think of her as the Goddess…while the others call her a murderer."

"Hm, what does she have to do with the Forest?"

"The Forest, ah, wasn't there for a very long time. It only came when the child cried. Many believe that the forest is there to protect. It's just…they aren't sure what it protects, her or us."

"Is that so. And no one could get in?"

Her father wasn't worried, just a bit interested; after all, he had the Military of Elysium and Spiritualist alike. But the following words from the bartender caught even him by surprise.

"The strongest of mercenaries, even an army had tried, but none of them made it back alive. Be it the Brotherhood or the Knights."

"Wait, those two groups died?"

Emilija blinked, gazing at her father's sudden reaction, the calmness that she never saw leave was nowhere on his face.

"Yes, and more. The Spiritualists who stood on that land didn't stay in this place for a moment longer. And they had come from far and even farther, but none were worthy of stepping inside. Not even the one who sat on the Fourth Seat or maybe a bit higher. Of thousands who went in four days, only 25 survived."

"Someone survived."

"I have a list here, in the right order," There was a crafty smile on the Bartender's face that she didn't understand. But her father was the one who let out a smile and said, "Ah, you got me. Fine, how much?"

The bartender showed a few fingers, and her father put the money on the counter. The bartender bent down and gave the list. She stood on the stool to take a peek.

She saw the first one who died, then the second, the third, and the others. Once she glanced, she was about to sit down, when her mind skipped the steps and a strange answer she found. Curious and wondering, she held the paper and pulled out the pen from her father's pocket. He looked at her and let the paper go, letting her sit down, and in peace, she wrote.

Her mind already had reached the answer; all she had to do was figure out the steps in between. She tilted her head, reading the names, writing down the letter, and sequence again.

Six survived on the first day and second and third, only the fourth, the number went up.

Each name, the first or the last letter, didn't make any sense, but it was the sixth name from the first day, where the sixth letter was the end.

She drew a line, straight, even without a ruler, and chose the sixth letter from all the names and letters.

It formed a word, a phrase, a different one every day; on the fourth day, she chose the seventh letter from the seventh name.

She held the pen and wrote it down, a message, and it was so loud, her ear buzzed, and her eyes teared up, thinking of that one's pain.

"Help Me!"

"Save Me!"

"Free Me!!"

"I AM HERE!!!"

Her mother came running, hearing her cry, and her father, worried, chose to stand aside.

"Emilija?! Emilija!"

Emilija's lips moved, closing her eyes, and her first words left her mouth, "I'll help…."