Zadane Demonian awoke. It was 5:30 in the morning, and the sun was rising. On this day, on this day, 11 years ago, it would have been his 5th birthday, and the day his mother and father were murdered. He watched the sun rise. He opened the window wide, breathed in the fresh air, and smiled. He lived alone, in the coutry in an old cottage.
Zadane was unlike any other boy you would meet. He was kind, charming, sweet and caring. He knew every call of the bird, and every footprint of the animals. He could call a sparrow down from a tree, or follow a doormouse to its woodland home. He would go into the nerby town, and wish everyone well. He would go to his little stall he had set up. He sold flowers, shiny buttons, embroidery threads and lovely little scent bags he had made himself. But the towns people loved his singing over all. He would sing while selling, or the crowd would ask for him to sing to the, over and over. He would go home everyday with a little bagful of gold, to buy some food, herbs and salt.
Zadane was beautiful. He had hair that was as fine as spun gold that just reached his shoulders, paler than the moon was his skin. Bluer than the sky, and bluer still than the forget-me-nots were his eyes, and lips as red as his favorite flower the red rose. He would sleep on nothing but a thin matteress, and with a thin blanket covering his muscular body.
The cottage had three rooms. The bathroom, with warm and cold water that came from an underground spring, his sleeping area, and his kitchen, with his herb, spices and food. Food of plenty he had, and clothes he also had. He thought himself lucky, but he longed for one thing.
He had seen the couples in the streets, sold then bouques, and made flower heart for them. He longed for love, and someone to share his little home with. He had moved into it when his parents had gone, and he longed for a love, or even a friend. He st down in his chair, and began to read. He soon fell asleep, and dreamed a dreadful dream. Of when his parents left the world and him forever.....
They walked in the snow, hand in hand, step after step. They smiled and laughed, until...Zadane stopped. A figure lay curled up in the snow. His parents let go of his hand, and went to investigate. They peered down, into the dark cape. A figure jumped out of it, and clasped his jaw round my mother's neck. She screamed and struggled, and red splashed white, and snow met blood. The face then pushed me to the side, jumping up and onto my father, biting into him, ripping at him. Soft arms scooped me up. I looked up. A beautiful woman was holding me close in her arms. She hissed a spell at the vampire, and it froze. "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner, little one. I'm sorry about your parents." she sighed. She placed me down, took of her long white cloak, and wrapped it around me. She had long white hair, smokey blue eyes....and gleaming white fangs. She threw some power over the three bodies, and they turned into nothingness. She picked me up, and carried me to a small cottage. "You will be safe here, little one. One day, you shall be the desider of the fate of all vampires, and I hope that I shall help you. But until that time comes, goodbye. and good luck."
He awoke from the dream. He shook himself awake, put the book back on the shelf, and got out his drawing pad. He closed his eyes, an began to draw. When he opened then again, he marveled at his picture. It was a beautiful young girl, about his age. He got out his coloured pencils, and closed his eyes, letting his hands create and mold this person...whoever she was.