The Eye of the Storm

Many would describe Death as being a Time where one meets the End; the Time where one meets nothing other than the darkness they are unable to even comprehend due to the fact that they had no mind of which to do so. And many would describe Death as being the biggest burden of all - whilst taking the fact that the process was inevitable in during the process.

Death should be the end to everything; and many had convinced themselves of this during their lives. Which may lead to be the reason why they were so afraid if Death knocking in their doors in the first place. Once you met Death - it was simply the end. No-one could avoid Death and, once one had been caught, there was no escape. Death was not only ruthless: Death was a hunter, and this hunter was determined. It would follow its target day after day, racking through every chance it could pick out from the masking charades around the two of them, until it had succeeded in finding a point where they could instantly dissolve the life of the prey away into nothing more than dust that had been swept away by the vigorous winds of the night.

Death was invisible. But, once it had the target within its line of vision, it was Deadly. And it would follow the set target around for their entire life, before successfully reaching in for the annihilation - the kill which would mark the end to it all.

Death was a force - but this force could be divided into millions, 'billions', of microscopic particles which possessed the power to enlarge themselves into unseen forms as large as the targets themselves - and it was a force that seized the ultimate capability to end the life of its victim within the fraction of a second; and there was no question over this matter. But there were so many ways for this to be done. And, if one took the liberty to do so, then it could possibly take days to list out every single way and method of which one's life could fall into - the fall being too high and too drastic for the victim to have the slightest chance of surviving. No, the list was endless.

New ways were always being experimented with. And the list became drastically longer by the time the writer even began listing the ways of which someone could lose everything. It wasn't just as bland as that either. The methods could be taken advantage of in a simple 'Pick and Mix' situation to form a brand new way of dying; and this was one aspect that should have been make undoubtedly clear from the start.

There were so many ways to die. Keeping track of them all would be an impossibility to say the least; one could lose themselves within the depths of pure insanity before all the ways were revealed - the knowledge of the Deathly aspects sinking into the core of their minds like a gnawing parasite desperate for its afternoon feed.

Death was an inevitable stage of one's life - but it wasn't the end. The Fates knew this for sure.

The Fates had been given one job - by a superior, nameless force which seized to be the most powerful source within the world - and this job was to ensure civilisation abided by the rules of nature at all costs. Since many had attempted to oppose to the laws by performing their own acts of Black Magic to impact their wanted lives. And these were the souls who needed to be stopped.

Once the Fates had been given the order, then they simply wouldn't give up until the job's completed.

The Fates were merciless, murderous and soundless. They could creep behind its target (filling in the place of Death itself) like a rat desperate for its late-night meal - it made no sound; but it was still merciless without a doubt. And they knew that Death was an inevitable aspect in life - it would arrive no matter the circumstances. But the problems still needed sorting out. And this was why they would bring Death early to those participants.

Death was inevitable. But even this was only one of the five necessary stages within life; and the Fates were aware of this for sure.

But some had the potential to avoid several of these stages like a plague within a desert - it surely couldn't harm them; but it was still deadly once caught.

And the Fates knew this because they had been spying on the perfect example for years on end.

Birth - "The Miracle of life itself. Without it, we would be nothing. But with it the most treacherous acts can occur."

With the doll clutched within her arms like a living child (of which it was soon to become), Katrielle Hay entered the basement and made her way down the dimly lit stair-case - the echoes of her footsteps rolling on over and over as she carefully emptied her mind.

She knew the Fates were approaching and this was one of the aspects that protruded against all matters as she continued on with her daily life -

The life of which had involved the uses of Black Magic to her own, self-centred advantage

- which had brought her into all of this mess to begin with.

She couldn't help being who she was - and this was one aspect the Fates overlooked - but it was clear she never needed any of this in the first place; she had possessed the powers of Black Magic ever since the day she had been born. But even this had been no more than the faint whisper within the determined winds; it drew no attention from the 'Fates' and this would've been the best thing for her if she had continued on in this way.

The essence had been passed down from her mother during the time of her conception, acting as a supernatural healer throughout the late years of the nineteenth century to many who acquired her services at those times (many of them coming out of the situation stronger than they had ever been before). Nonetheless, Elethea Florence had been well known for her abilities to lengthen the life of her patients in a way they had once been unable to imagine - extending their hopes to an extent which had once been unreachable within the eyes of civilisation through those times; the times where most women were expected to die from childbirth and other diseases while most men (and a majority of the female population) were expected to die from either Cholera, Tuberculosis, or Pneumonia - all of which were as Deadly as each other and were most likely caught in the work place - by the time they were thirty. She was the miracle the town had awaited.

But even the good deeds had the potential to result in bad consequences and, despite the fact that she was a healer the towns had once relied on, she was mostly well known due to the cause of her Death - The one which had remained a difficult question within the minds of the town's people until the population died out from the plagues and the illnesses that ran through the small area (by this point the area had been reverted into much larger colonies) which would have been located just outside the city of Dover within the state of Ohio - and this was one Death which struck the town as unexpected.

She had been at her stall when the herb remedy fell to the ground, the small cauldron shattering upon the contact with the ground before the whole reaction fought back - seemingly kicking into her every nerve as she choked to Death; her lungs tearing and ripping themselves in the process as she desperately tried to cling on for Dear Life - not only for her sake, but for the sake of her young daughter, who was a mere three-year-old whose mind had been unable to make sense of the situation by that point. But she was bound to understand soon enough anyway and these were the last thoughts that rang through her mind as her life slowly slipped away.

There was no fighting the Fates, once one was within their Deathly grasp, and then there was no escape. This was something Elethea Florence learnt to hand as the surroundings around her had slowly faded into nothing more than the pure darkness she would forever remain trapped in, leaving her daughter, Katrielle Florence, to lead the life long struggle of trying to decipher the difference between right and wrong as the inner powers grew noticeable.

Katrielle had been no more than five years of age when she first began to notice her uniqueness within the world. The knife had slid off the table - literally slid - and had caught her back of her hand as she walked past (even to this day she possessed no idea of what had caused this event in the slightest, as the oncoming of age had brought forward a charade of forgetfulness in the process), the blade cutting right through the skin as easily as it could cut its way through warm butter, and the first droplets of blood instantly made themselves visible as she gaped at her left hand in a sense of pure horror.

At this age, the sign of any blood would give off a sure startle for the young girl. She didn't act melodramatic - but the sight of her own blood was something she could do without. She had somehow always avoided cuts and bruises to tell the truth, and this was what set her nerves over the edge during the next few moments. She did nothing; but it was all displayed within her eyes.

In all honesty, she felt no pain. But she could sense the cut there: She could sense the blood leaking from the cut as the knife fell limb to the floor, the ring of the impact darting through her ears as it did so, and this was unnerved her every sense. She could sense the cut there, but she couldn't really feel anything.

However, an instinct then overwhelmed her completely and she found her eyes fluttering shut - her nerves suddenly relaxing as she focused on the core of the problem, a numb sensation creeping ever-so carefully down her left arm as she emptied her mind. She could feel the moisture slowly fade away, into nothing other than the blazing daylight reflecting off her skin, as the numbness overtook the senses within her hand completely.

By the time Katrielle Florence had opened her eyes, the cut had disappeared - no mark; no blood; nothing other than her skin and the blue tint of the running veins.

After this event, she understood: Her mind had been able to adjust to the facts of the world; the merciless manner of the forces her mother had been hinting at ever since she had been born; and her own inner power.

If she remained this way, then the Fates wouldn't have noticed the difference. If she had paved through life silently, then the Fates wouldn't have been able to sense the disturbance in the atmosphere and no spot-light would've shone upon her soul.

Nonetheless, everything changed when she learnt the real truth about her father: He had been a part of it all too - he had learned the tricks to Black Magic along with her long since deceased mother. And the Fates knew of this; it just took them longer to hunt him down.

Most presumed his Death had been due to Carbon Monoxide poisoning at his house located at the borders of the town, and simply couldn't bring themselves to consider any other 'alternative' whatsoever. There was nothing wrong with him on the outside - no bruises; no wounds - and there was no sign of murder, or any indication over the fact that he may have suffered through a fatal disease. His records were completely clean.

However, Katrielle knew better than this. The forces had caught him too.

She may have given off the impression that she had been no more than the timid child but, on the insides, her knowledge was growing wider and vaster as her inner power grew in strength. Her parents had lost their lives due to no coincidence; the young girl knew this very well. And this was what tore the fatal hole out of her heart - the hole which had once kept her on the verge of the difference; the difference between wrong and right.

After that day, she knew that the forces were after her and she knew them to be no less than ruthless - They would destroy her within the fraction of a second if the need arose and this was one fact which protruded within her mind as the desperate times rolled on, seeming to taunt her as they rushed past her host.

Katrielle should have stopped then - they had no strong scent to trace back to her - but she didn't. Instead, she engaged her self with practising the rituals and, soon enough, she was the controller of atoms.

She should have stopped then. But it was too late now - The Fates could sense her and, once they caught her, they would never let go.

And this was one aspect that continued to run through her mind (one she had learnt fifty years before to be exact) as she placed the doll on the mat, its blank features gaping up at her with an empty expression. The Fates would not give up until she was dead. No matter how hard they had to look; how many they had to kill…

Inhaling deeply to ease her nerves, Katrielle Hay directed the core of her attention to the limb doll that lay before her. She knew that, in order to force the Fates away, she'd have to create some type of disguise she could use against them. So this had been exactly what she was creating during these next few moments; she was creating a soul.

She was aware that the procedure would follow through better with the host of a child within her use - but even this didn't seem to matter for the moment. Sure, it may take longer but, when she had the soul within the host, she could do whatever she wanted.

The dim light around her seemed patient as she slowly placed the very tips of her fingertips against the forehead of the doll - her mind emptying as she began to murmur under her breath. If this worked, then she'd at least have someway to disguise herself if the Fates ever came too close. As for her husband of thirty years: Well…it wasn't so hard to kidnap another host…

Directing the focus of her essence towards the body of the host before her, she could feel the conscience slowly slipping into the source as the numb sensation slowly drifted down her arms.

The process only took a few minutes but, when it had been completed, the sight greeting her was simply remarkable.

It was Artificial Life at its best.

Life - "The time in which one learns to develop. It is taught how to fend, fight, and nurture for itself. But, more importantly, life learns which pains to avoid, and which pains it should thrive for. However, sometimes it's difficult to decipher the Deathly pain from the unnatural punishment."

By the time Zaya Hay turned eight, the voices within the back of her mind were as strong as ever.

With the name of Destiny at her shoulders, there was nothing she could do in the slightest to force the burden of the voices away - they crept into her conscience, gnawing and chewing at everything that stood within its path, and dug out everything they could find until they had found their way into the core of her mind, where they would then tug and inch the levers one by one as they tried to adjust to their new capabilities.

With the levers, the voices were formed. And the forces would hunt through exactly the right ones in order to form the threatening words until the message had been made clear.

'She must be punished'

When the voices made themselves heard, Zaya Hay usually found herself upon the floor clutching her head out of pure pain as the pressure built up within her skull to an unbearable extent.

With the name of Fate within her hands, there was nothing she could do to fend herself against the real Fates as they paved through the every inner particle of her mind, just desperate to obliterate every thought she could make sense of as they patiently waited to dive in for the kill.

They had warned her all right. She wasn't natural. So, in the eyes of the Fates, she was no more than a parasite of which had the need to be destroyed before the plague spreads itself upon the rest of the civilisation.

Not only was her life a miracle: But it was also wanted.

Katrielle Hay had known this, and the very air seemed to hate her for doing so.

Death - "The Time where one slips from their current state to another; a time where one's host simply rejects the soul back into the waiting line. But even then the Deaths can be due to unnatural causes" -

Death was one force which could not be avoided - and Katrielle Hay knew this better than anyone else. Her own parents had been cheated by the force when she was barely even a child.

The Fates could take the place of Death; just as Katrielle Hay had learnt herself from her past experiences. They were ruthless, merciless and, once they had a soul within its grip, they would never let go.

And her heart was broken when her daughter had been caught too soon

"Mummy!" Zaya Hay cried out in agony - the cries desperate - the searing pain sharpening as the 'Fates' took their toll upon her innocent, but ridiculed, soul; executing their revenge with the utmost precision as they slowly (but excellently) killed the girl from the inside. "H-help me."

Her last plead came out as nothing more than a scared, frightened whisper as the real tears began to form within her eyes; but this didn't stop the Fates. In fact, they barely even gave the matter a second glance.

"S-stop." She pleaded as she wrenched forward out of absolute pain - the initial disbelief seeming to attack her heart like the blade of a cold dagger of which possessed the thorough urge to kill. "P-please stop."

Her voice now shook vigorously at every single word that had somehow managed to escape her pale, fragile lips. She couldn't remember ever having felt such a pain in her life as her insides seemed to twist and turn against each other in a viscous battle that would last until the end - her death obviously (but she wasn't sure whether it would come to this conclusion during the next few moments) - until the bitter sweet freaking end.

Her hair and eyes were dark - even darker than her mother's - but, taking her current state into consideration, it would be quite easy to overlook this detail as she fought against the force in a desperate attempt to cling on for her Dear Life; her face was as pale as newly drawn ice.

Then - the pain around her spreading in ways she never thought she could imagine - she clenched her hands to her throat in an attempt to keep herself from choking (she knew that if she started she wouldn't be able to stop). But even this didn't help; it would never help. Nothing could stop the 'Fates' when they were at their peak and had a target within their site and within a reaching distance. They were not afraid of Death - maybe even the only forces in the entire world that weren't? - and they would barely even give the aspect a second thought before inflicting it onto their focus. They had no mercy, and they had no soul to care with. If they did, then they wouldn't be lurking through Earth's atmosphere hunting for the souls to kill, would they? The Fates were Killers.

Tightening her grip around the skin of her throat, she continued to choke endlessly as her vision doubled. Her eyes felt as though they were about to pop from their sockets. She couldn't ever remember being in so much pain in her entire life. But this didn't mean she was clueless as to who - what - was trying to do this to her. But she didn't really know the full reason behind why it was doing this to her. She could only pick out they were angry; the 'Fates' were angry, as they had been for a very, very long time.

And they had told her this; just as they still continued to do.

'She must be punished. She angered us. She must be punished.'

These were the words that ran endlessly through her mind, seeming to echo around her thoughts and through her conscience like the slaps of a never-silencing church bell as though it was building up the power to brainwash her completely in order to achieve what they wanted. She's bad: She must be punished...

Her eyes felt strained as those black spots danced before her eyes (the way they danced so freely and care-free taunted her as her life began to slip away from the verge of reality; it felt like the force was burning holes into her lungs in a way that gave her the urge to scream. But she knew there would be no point - she was dying. And this was enough to make her terrified breaths both painful and raspy all at the same time.

Why couldn't she just die now?

"Mummy!"

She must be punished.

Those words never left. And they never had, even just for a brief moment. It was as if they wanted to torture her into a painful submission as they satisfied their permanent urge to kill; as if they wanted to kill her.

In many ways, the 'Fates' acted like ghosts in the dark. You could never hear them until it was too late.

Zaya Hay had been late…

Eventually, her light-headedness took full control of her senses and she abruptly found herself falling to the floor in a fatal position, her world spinning madly around her as the area around her began to dim - the light was fading ever so slowly and would occasionally stutter within its tracks, failing to spark up the hopes of the young girl in the slightest.

Was this the end? It had to be the end. She had never felt such a pain in her entire life: That burning pain, the one that destroyed her from the inside out without any mercy whatsoever; the one with the desperate urge to kill; the pain that wanted to kill her - The force that wanted to kill The Seeker of the Spirits.

And, even though her eyes were continuously rolling back as her head tilted from side to side, she forced herself to stay conscious when she caught sight of that silhouette. The one person she had trusted ever since she could remember; that one person who could possibly be the cause of all of this. The one person the 'Fates' wanted to execute their revenge on.

It was her fault; it had to be. She was the reason why the force was killing her - the reason why she was 'dying' under the merciless hands of the Fates. But why? This was something Zaya Hay could not comprehend as her final moments rolled on by.

In one final attempt, she murmured these words in a half-hearted whisper, forcing herself to stay conscious as her insides set themselves on fire.

"You hurt them Mummy...and now they're angry..."

These were the last words she had ever spoken to her mother and these were, presumably, her last words ever.

Death had come all too soon for her young daughter. And this was what forced Katrielle Hay over the edge completely.

And she snapped; her inner thoughts spiralling further down into the never-ending abyss of darkness as she struggled to cope through life without her daughter.

No-one can bring back the Dead into their original host and Katrielle knew this.

And she had no idea of what she could do to track down the soul either/

Zaya was the 'lost' soul.

The State - "The stage where one passes from the stage of Death and into the waiting line. This is the single point within the continuous process where one can reflect on their past lives in an attempt to become better in the next. But hardly anyone can achieve this - especially when their minds are blanked before they're inserted into the body of a recently conceived host. This is the point where one is given yet another chance in life. However, not all can make it pass this stage…"

A normal soul should have met the darkness, where they would then patiently wait to be drawn into another host, but the access into this state is refused for some.

Zaya Hay never met this stage. Instead, she managed to escape during an act of carelessness from the superiors…

Her Time of Death hadn't been as she had once expected in the slightest. When she had been younger, she had once hoped she could have died of old age. But, as she grew older, these hopes had been set aside. Something had always been after her. But she had failed to learn the true threat until it had been too late.

And her true Death had caught her completely off guard - she never foresaw how she'd really die. So when she was caught, full on, within the situation, she had possessed no idea of what had been happening in the slightest (she just knew that 'they' were trying to hurt her), as she choked on her own lungs. It had been an awful experience, one she wished to never encounter again. But it hadn't been an experience she had once expected - it had been far too painful for it to be so. Her Death had been both excruciating, and unnaturally slow.

But this hadn't been what shocked her the most; in fact, quite the opposite actually. It wasn't how she died that shocked the living lights out of her; it was where she ended up.

Reaching out, as far as her eye could see was a shadowy corridor in which seemed to have no end in sight. Despite the fact that the area was white, shadows still hung at the sides of the corridor, suspending against each other like North against the South, acting as though they were both forms within the metaphorical world, of which was no more than a stream of walls, but acted very much like a never ending prison sentence that made up everything.

Instinctively, Zaya reached out to the barrier but came to a halt when she felt the wind breeze against her fingertips in the way a feather would sweep away the dust.

There was something odd about this situation - something she had no idea of at her current age - but she didn't allow this to bother her in the slightest as her own sense of curiosity began to overwhelm her every nerve: She wondered how stable the wall really was. She had no idea why. It wasn't important, was it? If so, then why was she allowing her curiosity to take over her completely? It was a wall.

Nonetheless, she had been unable to help herself as she her delicate hands -

She could see them now, and these were hands she recognized as hers almost instantly

- reached towards the shadowy wall, which acted as a barrier, in an attempt to brush her fingertips against whatever material may stand in her way. It was funny actually: Her movements seemed so soft and carefree that they surely couldn't be hers; she felt like a feather actually. Her stomach was fluttering in a way that gave her the urge to giggle like a three-year-old who had been fiddling with a very strange, but intriguing, device. But she fought off this urge, for she did not know where she even was in the first place - was she in heaven? Or had she simply stumbled into a loony-bin that had been reserved for one in the after life?

She had no idea where she was. But even this didn't prevent her from feeling as free as a bird during the next moments; as though a heavy burden, of which had been held atop her form, had been lifted away from her shoulders completely and, as an eight-year-old girl, this was one feeling she cherished. She had never felt so 'alive' in her entire life (even though she had full knowledge over the fact that she had passed away only minutes before) and she wanted this moment to last for as long as she could.

But then her instincts kicked in as her eyes stared down the hall. Where does it lead? And, ultimately, can she get out of it?

Feeling her inner thoughts taking a turning point, she set herself an aim to find out.

She learned many things along the way; as well as the fact that two souls can conjoin into one (if one had been over the verge of weakness) in order to create one, stronger form.

Rebirth - "The Stage where one is given another chance, only to continue on with the never-ending cycle of which they are unable to escape…"

By the time the year of 1998 rolled by, Katrielle Hay had already been within the body of her second host (the one she had taken the day the precious disappeared in an act of her own revenge).

Not all transfers went well. And she knew this fully well as she tilted herself forwards and backwards on the rocking chair sat in the area of her porch within her garden - her husband's transfer proved to be unsuccessful (as the host had morphed around his every feature rather than Vice Versa) and he was eventually hunted down by the Fates. There had been no escape of course, so his host was engulfed within the Deathly grasp. But, this time, they took the host along with them as they disappeared within the extracts of the air that remained around them - The Air which had been patiently waiting to execute its job out to the ultimate precision ever since the disturbance began.

Nonetheless, she had managed to trap some essence of Alfred Hay's soul within the soil of her garden before his soul vanished completely. The Fates hadn't been after her; the scent just wasn't strong enough to track her new host down.

But, one stressed move, and the particles could be set free completely - therefore delaying her procedure for weeks (possibly months) before she managed to locate them again.

However, she knew it would all result in this anyway - she could sense it.

And she knew exactly what she would do over this matter over the following years as her content gaze drifted towards the abnormal display at the front of her garden. She could only see the back of the display from here, but she could picture it out perfectly to speak the truth.

There were four wooden rods aligned next to each other one by one, and they each held a featureless rag doll (limbs floppy at their sides as their blank faces made themselves apparent) strapped onto the wooden surface with what must have been a type of thick string. The two rag dolls at the centre of the group were of similar sizes but different figures, as if to indicate the different genders, whilst the dolls at the edges were of different figures and sizes (both larger than the one's in the middle. But the differences were made evident).

They were all there for a reason; and Katrielle Hay knew this. And she knew that the smaller ones would be the first to go, whilst she'd have to wait years to lure the larger ones into the set trap.

Nonetheless, by then, the job would be so easy that she could ease through it within the fraction of a few moments. But where would the fun be in that?

Allowing the corners of her lips to itch into a ghastly smile, Katrielle set herself at ease for that day. The procedure wouldn't start for weeks anyway.

She was soon to be staring right through the eyes of her deceased daughter - even if they did, ultimately, belong to another host - but she would cease to do anything against the matter in the slightest. She wouldn't know.

It was all set to spiral out of control because of her. The mind games would destroy her victims completely; and she knew this. But the consequences could prove to be more severe than ever: For both parties…

And she was the cause of it all; whilst it all avoided her like the plague. Her daughter and her husband had been killed because of the inner strength she couldn't bring herself to endure enough of. Zaya Hay died for what Katrielle made her as. It was because of her -

This truly made her the 'Eye of the Storm'

A/N I came up with this for an English assignment I had been set last week, and I'm proud of how it turned out actually.

Anyway, I do hope you enjoyed this!

Reviews are always appreciated :P

xxxxxxxxxShannonxxxxxxxxx