Amethyst’s nearly colorless eyes glowered from behind the intricate ironwork gates that separated her from Ablas’s streets. She wanted out. The smell of coming rain filled the halls of the Karleon Palace all day, and she desperately wanted to be alone to feel the drops against her skin. Rain in the Naiomin Desert fell only a few times during the dry hot year in Ablas. She refused to miss it.

Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the prickling sensation that crept over her skin as her bodyguard, Jicero, drew up behind her silently. “Lady Amethyst,” his deep throaty voice enticed her ears, though she did not want to listen. She did not respond, so he continued without waiting for permission. “You should not get such ideas as wandering outside the gates. You parents will never allow it.”

“You know me too well Jicero,” she replied disdainfully, though it sounded impossibly sweet. “However,” she smirked, “You cannot stop ideas from forming in my head. I will dream as I wish.”

The bodyguard frowned. “That may be, but I am expected to discourage it.” He felt a breeze brush across his shaven head, and he instinctively reached forward to pull his charge’s light white hood over her shoulder-length hair. She spun around in a flash before he could. “Amethyst…” He sighed, “You really must…”

The light gray that surrounded her perfectly white irises darkened and spread like ink in water until her eyes mirrored the black color of his gaze. “Do you see anyone watching?” She hissed so coldly that the desert heat seemed to fade.

His eyes flickered about before focusing on the girl again. The soft wind fingered her sable hair, causing it to fade as it blew about and became part of the small gust. He drew in a long breath. “No,” he at last answered, but worry played about in his expression.

Her shoulders dropped slightly at his worry. Grudgingly she slipped the thin material over her head. She changed the subject soon after. “It’s going to rain Jicero,” she informed him with excitement shading her normally calm voice as her eyes faded to gray. “I… I want to be outside when it does.”

His eyes narrowed. “No,” came his firm response.

“Please,” she begged, “It only rains a few times during the year, and I have never been able to enjoy it. It will be just this once. And… and mother and father will never know because they are miles away in Torial.”

He opened his mouth to argue. But, she was absolutely right. Furthermore, he did not blame her for wanting to enjoy the rain. When he was a youth he sat on his rooftop every time it rained simply to take pleasure in the amazing feeling. “I would hate for you to never know the feel of rain Amethyst,” he said simply. He refused to give a straight forward “yes, go ahead… disobey your parents”.

She smiled and turned to burst through the gates. “Thank you Jicero!” She called over her shoulder as she ran. Her hood had already flown off, and her hair was free to bend with the wind.

He only shook his head. He did not worry about her safety. In fact, his job had proved pointless. It only took something as simple as a breath to save her skin. The only real purpose he served was friendship.

Amethyst slowed to a walk when she rounded the corner out of sight from her bodyguard and was pleased to find the street empty of people. She became slightly careless, allowing the wind to not only shift her hair but her skin as well. She carefully kept control, so her shape did not change too noticeably. She could easily flow with the wind and vanish, in a sense.

She closed her eyes as the first drop of rain fell against her cheek and trickled down the curve of her face. Holding out her hand, she stared in wonder at the little droplets. It felt lovely and unlike anything she had ever known. How could my parents possibly keep me from this? She wondered in awe.

In the heart of this desert sand storm is a woman is walking along a stone path. She looks young, around the age of 17 though she is as old as time. The sand passes through her with no resistance. The wind does not reach her. She is a ghost here.

She has long hair as white as virgin snow that often hides eyes the color of pigeon's blood and a long flowing gown and robe in white that dirt never seems to cling to. Her skin is impossibly pale, a complete absence of color all but her hands, tinted a delicate pink at the finger tips and fading to white further up her arm. Her feet beneath the white leather slippers are the same. A belt around her hips holds a polished faintly glowing gem the color of her eyes.

The stone path she walks on, revealed by the displaced sand, does not exist. She is walking along a path that will never be reached by the eyes of another. The garden it leads to does not exist. It too will never be reached by another's eyes. Both lay between the living realm and the dying.

She reaches the garden and pauses as the flowers whisper to her in forgotten tongues. Some grow upside down, others are multicolored. All are unreal and impossible.

This is the place she woke three hundred years ago, no memory of who she was or what life she had. By coming here she was stalling. She had a schedule of deaths and souls to take but her next victim she did not want to take. She is lost in thought and barely notices the tolling of bells. The deep booming like those of a cathedral increase in volume.

She stops. That sound. The dull tolling of bells has finally caught her attention. It’s so familiar but she cannot place it. Suddenly a voice enters her mind. A familiar voice asks, Who are you to tread on land that was never yours, that so many of your kind has died upon?

The question amuses the woman and she laughs, dull and hollow, “Who am I? I am Death. I have been renamed thousands of times. I am a soul stealer, soul eater. I am of the Vitasuum. The only survivor of my kind.” She replies.

The nameless woman is calm as an ancient ghost appears before her. The ghost shows it’s body’s current condition. It’s flesh had long since rotted away, leaving mummified tatters of skin stretched tight over the horrible grinning teeth. The empty sockets turn on her.

What is your purpose? The ancient asks.

“My purpose is to keep the forsaken and undead like you from walking the Earth.”

The ancient laughs at this. You are not fulfilling this purpose. The ancient points out.

She smiles, it is dry and cruel, “You know I won’t take you. You don’t deserve it.” She pauses, only for effect, “Besides, if I took you then it would be a lie that I have called you my friend for so many years, Gren.” She bows to him.

The rest of her kind faded away centuries ago, leaving her alone to protect the human world. She hadn't seen another of her kind since before the Roman Empire fell but she cursed them.

Suddenly she starts away. She’s stalled long enough, now she must go.

Rain. She breathed in the smell. It was still only a dusting of warm drops. A smile possessed her face as she skipped along the side of the great wall of her parents’ estate, running her hand along the dampening stones.

“What are you doing?” The voice startled her. She spun around as a boy stumbled to a stop a few feet from her. Surprise flickered in her wide-eyes. He was covered in colored dust—red, blue, purple, green. “You shouldn’t be wearing such nice clothes today!”

Her mouth hung open a little and she stepped towards him, leaning forward to stare at the odd dust clinging to his skin and clothes. “What’s all over you?”

His brows furrowed. “Are you mad? It’s Jakour Le’i!”

Confusion remained, flickering in her darkening eyes. “That?” She reached out and ran a finger across his bare shoulder, picking up some red dust. He flinched away. “This? It’s Jakour Le’i?”

“No. That’s just colored powder for Jakour Le’i.” He tilted his head. When she didn’t respond, he looked around nervously. “You know, Jakour Le’i? The festival?”

She shook her head. “Never heard of it.”

He looked shocked for a moment. Then, his eyes widened even more. “Watch out!” He grabbed her in a flash, pulling her behind him just as a ball of deep blue powder burst against his hip. Another boy roared triumphantly and disappeared down another street.

Amethyst had squealed in surprise and then laughed at the cloud of blue. “A festival of colored powder?” She grinned and wrinkled her nose. “I like it.”

He sighed, frustrated. “Come with me, then. You’re not prepared for this yet.” He darted towards another street. Without hesitation, she followed.

As the woman walks she turns her head, searching for the slight pull towards her next target, following it across the shifting sands. Such a shame that she is the last of her once proud race. She knew what she should see if her vision were present. She could feel herself walking through the layers of lost time as it brought her closer and closer to her target.

Around her the scenery is in constant motion. Kingdoms are built and fall in seconds. Empires rise and fall in minutes. Like a ghost, she walks through the walls of a castle that never knew the desert sands she now walks upon. When it falls she walks between the streets of a city the world has yet to see. None of what is around her exists. None of what surrounds her ever was or ever will be. It is a reflection of what the past could've been or what the future can be.

Finally as she comes closer to her target, when she can almost feel the satisfaction of adding length to her life she readies herself to cross into the living realm. Her body tilts forward as if she were straining against something. The barrier.

After moments it pops and she stumbles out of nowhere. The sound of rain startles her but she soon recognizes the feeling of wet on her skin and the shift of physical sand under her feet, the unsteady footing it provided. The exhilarating feeling of oxygen in her lungs.

It's been ten years since she's been in this realm and longer since she's smiled. The rain. She loves the rain. The smell and taste of the air makes the corner of her mouth upturn but she doesn't smile though her steps are more sure than they were before. Her mood has been lifted. She can faintly see the white flicker of the soul she's to collect as her footing shifts to something more steady.

Reflexively her arms raise to find anything to help guide her along, a wall or fencing. Her hand hits the side of a building and she continues on confidently, listening closely for anyone else around her.

As they ran down the street, colors burst around them against the walls and on the road. The rain was picking up. Amethyst could not think of a better day to escape.

The boy slowed as they reached a doorway a couple blocks from the estate. “Come,” he said, waving at her. He pressed her into the corner of the deep entranceway. “Wait here. I’ll be right back. And try to stop smiling, you’ll provoke them.” He disappeared into the house.

Amethyst tried to hide her grin, but it was too difficult. She peered out on the street. A few kids ran by with handfuls of colored powder, screaming and laughing as they threw it. She hoped the boy would hurry; she desperately wanted to join.

Across the street, a woman came into view, moving along the wall. She was fantastically white and odd. Curiously, Amethyst moved closer to the edge of the entrance to look at the woman. The gleam of red eyes frightened her, and she withdrew a little.

Footsteps pounded against the dusty road from the opposite direction the woman was moving. A young woman appeared with a handful of powder and her arm arched back to aim at the woman. Amethyst leered excitedly, wondering what the colored powder would look like against such colorless skin.

The woman continues onward to that small desperate soul but she keeps losing the little tugs and pulls that always led her along as she starts to hear the noises of playing children and daily lives of mortals. It didn't bother her or turn her from her course, it seemed to relax her some which scares her. She doesn't want to stay here. It would anger her creators.

As two children run past her she steps close to the wall, feeling the displacement of air from their quick pace. Had she done that as a child? Ran and played? She couldn't remember. The void in her memories pushed her back to seeking out that target and lengthening her time here.

Footsteps coming at her brought her to a halt, eyes widening and head turning toward the owner to listen when the steps slowed. She froze. Suddenly her eyes burned, the air in her lungs was thick, and she tasted dust. That wasn't right. It was raining, she shouldn't be choking on dust, it shouldn't be in her eyes.

Confused, she shook away the still pristine fabric of her sleeve, the powder just running off like water from glass, her small light pink hand, lifting it to her mouth as she coughed. Now the pull was gone and she couldn't see the little light of the soul she was to collect. She was lost, stranded for now.

Amethyst gasped as the dust settled over the strange woman and the other ran off, laughing merrily. The woman did not look as if she was into the spirit of the festival. It seemed odd… the way the pale woman had reacted. It was almost as if she couldn’t… see. Was she blind? Amethyst had never seen a blind person before.

Partially out of sympathy and partially out of curiosity, Amethyst peaked out of the entrance to see if it was safe before striding lightly towards the woman. She forgot to maintain her form for a moment and felt the quickening rain ripple her skin. Oops, she thought but allowed the slight movement to remain. Concentrating on solidity took a lot of effort.

“Excuse me…” She waved as she neared the woman. “You look about as out of place as I am today. You’re bound to get hit with more of that stuff if you don’t duck inside a doorway. It’s…” She paused. “I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s a festival.”

Her head lifted and tilted this way and that as she heard a voice, a woman. It took her a moment to orient herself and locate the source of the voice. The powder had run off her clothes and hair but clung to her skin but she didn't even try wiping it away, she'd just smudge whatever was on her around and make a mess.

Her watering eyes stared past the unknown woman, a hand raising to tuck back a strand of hair tickling her lips, "Out of place? Hit?" She still didn't understand what had happened, "Are you the one who threw dust at me?" She rubbed at her eyes then extended her hand back to the wall but it wasn't there. "I don't know what you're talking about." The colorless woman sounded exasperated.

“No!” Amethyst shook her head against the accusation. “I didn’t throw it. I swear!” She snapped her mouth shut suddenly, realizing that the woman really was blind. Otherwise, she would have known Amethyst had not thrown the dust.

“Um… I don’t know how to explain it all, but there’s some sort of festival happening today. People are throwing colored powder at each other to celebrate. You’d best get out of the road.” She reached out to catch the woman’s arm in the hopes of leading her to the nearest doorway.

The boy burst out of the house across the street and quickly saw that Amethyst had wandered away. “Hey!” He ran towards them. “I thought I told you to wait.” He had clothes under one arm and a bag presumably full of the powder strung over his shoulder. "Who's this?" He asked as he came to them.