Winter

"I'm going to go."

He stood up. "Where? It's barely morning, Moon."

She turned her head to look at him. "Maybe where I am going is none of your business."

His heart almost stopped. Her expression, he had seen it before. So many times. In the most frequent nightmare. On the older boy. It always ended the same way: him backing away in hurt, and the boy dying.

"What's wrong? Did I offend you in any way?" He said carefully. "I'm sorry if I—"

"No." Moon cut him off and breathed in deeply. "Would you like the frosted lie, or the truth?"

He grew defensive. "What do you think? What's wrong?" He considered the options. "Do you have mood swings?"

"I hate you."

She blinked, and her jade-green eyes were so beautiful, so dangerous. His hands began to shake. The images began to appear. The sneers, the blood, the cold eyes, the screaming—"W-what?"

She stepped forward, and he backed away. It was like a dance: forward, backward, forward, bsckward. Until there was nowhere to escape.

"You never learn, do you, Winter?" Moon sneered. The screaming grew louder. "I was tricking you. Because, guess what? Nobody in their right mind would ever, ever love you." Something flashed in her eyes, only to disappear. "Or want to be your friend."

He felt his hands shaking. No. No. Not again.

Not you.

Be strong, be vigilant, strike first. And trust nobody, his father's voice said.

"I hate you, Winter."

They hurt. The words, the sneer, those beautiful jade green eyes. They hurt. It hurt that it had to be her. It hurt to hope for something big and get nothing.

He blinked. "Is this some kind of- a-a joke?" He stammered. Please, please, please.

She smiled, and the answer was clear on her face. How stupid he had been. She had been luring him in all this time, and he had fallen into her traps not once but twice.

"It's the truth," she said. "Isn't it what you want?"

No.

Her eyes flashed, but her face was unreadable: anger? Determination? ..Hate?

"What are you?" He whispered.

She raised an eyebrow. It was so unlike her, but it fit— why she had stuck to him even when he resisted, how she was able to trap him with her charms. He hadn't been wrong after all. "Spy. Assassin. And, most importantly, your greatest enemy."

"Assassin? You?" He almost laughed out loud. "I don't believe you."

She dropped her voice. "I am Darkstalker's most valued advisor and friend. Why wouldn't I be?"

Darkstalker. He had, of course, heard the name before. He was a bitter enemy to the Abshers. He had once thought Darkstalker was the one behind Hailstorm's death.

"My father is Morrowseer. Didn't you know? He controls the assassination department. And his assistant, Darkstalker, trained me personally." Her eyes finally showed an emotion: fear. "But now he has taken over, and I have no reason to pretend anymore."

He stared at her for a long moment, trying to decide whether to believe her or not.

He attacked first.

Maybe she was toying with him— he wouldn't hurt her if she didn't— couldn't— defend herself.

He placed his hands on her shoulders and swung his leg over her legs, trying to make her fall. A simple move, but not one a normal girl can dodge.

She seemed surprised, but jumped out of the way. Before he could think of another gentle attack, she took his hands and placed them over his back, and kicked him, making him fall on the floor.

Not missing a beat, he swung his legs over the floor, making her fall beside him.

Trying to unsettle her, he threw anything he could reach at her, which happened to be a book. She ducked her head and reached for him.

They both acted at the same time: she grabbed his wrist, he grabbed hers.

"Then why aren't you taking me to Darkstalker?" He challenged, gripping her wrist.

"Because you are no use to me, or to him." She narrowed her eyes. It hurt, having no use to anyone. She freed her wrists and pushed him to the ground. "Go far, far away. As far as you can go. If I meet you again, I swear I will kill you." 

"Then why don't you?" He said.

She smirked. "The blood, the gore, who wants that?" She shook her head. "It would be hard to ignore. And you're no different to me alive or dead, so what's the point?"

His last hope. "Then why did you?" He said aloud. He didn't even try to defend himself. As she had said, what was the point? But whatever she was, he didn't want her to go.

"What?" She said. As he reached out for her, her hand shot to her hip. It was a gun. She didn't hesitate to point it at him.

He shivered. It gave him memories.  Blood. A woman. The gloves. The gun. "The kiss. In the rain." He tried again. He tried to recall the dreams. It wasn't hard. It was the only dream that wasn't a nightmare. "Why did you kiss me? Or...was it I who kissed you? You were playing along, I guess. Isn't that right?"

Her face was contorted with anger. Then the icy smile once again. The icy mask. Or maybe that was who she was. He couldn't tell anymore. The lie seemed too real, and the truth seemed so far away.

"Yes. It was all a game," she said, barely a whisper. "You see...it was nothing. You are nothing."

He just stayed on the floor as she gave him a last sneer. He couldn't do anything as she opened the window and jumped on the tree. He just felt the wind, trying to cover the wound in his heart. Trying to stop the blood. But it kept flowing and flowing. Because every time he stitched it back, someone tore it open. He was a puppet, after all.

The truth was his enemy. The truth, after all, hurt the most.

~

Moon

He couldn't follow her. But she knew he would. She knew he would follow her to the ends of the earth if he had to.

This was the only way. He must not follow her to Darkstalker. He was smart and strong, but he was no match for him. Nobody was.

But he was too smart to be locked in. He would figure out a way out of anything. Nobody could stop him, and she knew.

Except himself.

She jumped from the last branch to the ground as soundlessly as she could. What would Mom say? She would be worried sick. She felt a string of guilt inside her.

Maybe this was for the better, too.

If he knew the truth, wouldn't he hate her?

Darkstalker was even more dangerous than her father. He knew what he was doing. And most of all, he was trying to kill Winter.

She would distract him the best she could. He had helped her once, after all. She could trick him into helping her again.

After Morrowseer had stabbed her with a knife, she was rescued by Darkstalker, who treated her. Thankfully it hadn't been a deep wound, he told her.

He had then rescued her from her horrible father. Her mother, too. And she promised to never get involved in any plots, or any government projects. And she had kept her promise.  She attended school. She made friends.

Growing up, she had thought of him as a hero. A father figure, even. When he asked her for a favor, she did everything she could.

She thought life could get better.

Until he told her what she did. Until he revealed what the favors were, and what they were used for.

He sent her to a good school. Jade High. She was smart enough to pass the test, and adored Darkstalker for doing so much for her.

Except it wasn't for her.

It was only the smallest favors: to get friendly with Winter Absher.

She fed Darkstalker all kinds of information. How Sora hated Icicle because Icicle bullied her sister to the point of committing suicide. How Winter was devastated because everyone was blaming the death of Hailstorm to him.

It had been a part of a bigger plan all along. To get Winter's fortune and kill him.

And it was time to face her fate, whatever it was. No more running away.

Her job was to kill Darkstalker.