She had paid the cab to take her out as far as it would go. She was still a mile away from her destination, but she could walk. She was used to it. Sones, hills, and valleys surrounded her. The wind whipped her hair across her face, and made it hard for her to see, but it was okay. She had traveled down this path so many times her feet knew what grooves to avoid and bumps to step over. In the thousands of years since she'd been there last, it hadn't really changed.

After about half an hour, she reached the small, crude stone building. It had no roof, but then again it never had. She could see the rich cloth, and the smoke and dim lighting of the candles in her minds eye. She could smell the incense, and feel the hushed silence. In reality, the wind made a low howling sound as it whipped through the valley. It was a windy day, but it was nice out, and it was always peaceful here. Where it had all ended, and started in a sense. She walked towards the sacrificial altar and smoothly hefted herself on top of it. She laid back and closed her eyes. She couldn't help but run through the past events in her mind, like they had just happened yesterday.

She had a cage made of twigs holding two birds. One was a dove and the other was a crow. The crow made a dreadful noise, and the dove contradicted it with it's gentle cooing.

She led a cow by a rope, and had two other ropes in her hand. One was connected to a goat, and the other to a lamb. They followed her calmly. She was surprised at their willingness to follow.

"If they really knew what was going to happen, they'd run for sure," she thought.

Her bare feet padded along expertly in the dirt. She had never owned shoes, and her soles were thick and durable. The sharp stones and random twigs didn't even phase her now. Not like they ever really did in the first place. It was a windy day, and the wind howled and whipped her hair all around her, like a wild, black fire.

She came to the place. The lands slopped down a little, and back up again. Nothing major, but it was just perfect for what she had to do.

She held back her tears. It wasn't really the animals that made her sad, it was what she had lived, and what she was leaving. But she knew for sure in her heart, she had to do it. She had already made up her mind and there was no turning back now.

She set the crude cage down on the grassy hill. She saw a tree a few yards away and led the animals over to it. She proceeded to tie the goat and lamb up. She figured she'd start with the hardest first. She walked the cow down away from the tree, and looked up at the sun. She made sure it was in the right position, then took a deep breath, and got to it.

With enough work, she tipped the cow on its side. She took the knife from her pouch, but hesitated. She let the knife gleam in the sun. She was too scared to think, fearing she would stop herself. She knew she wanted it, she knew she had to do it. For herself.

The knife cut through the meat easily, much more easily than she was prepared for. The cow choked out a sound of pain, but with the blood flowing freely down the hill, it was hard to make a noise. It was so close to death, she could taste its fear and pain on the back of her throat like a thick, sour, wine. She saw the sun was almost in its position. She must hurry.

Next, she took the goat and led it, protesting, a few feet away from the cow. She laid it down and something clear dripped onto the blade. Not rain, but her salty tears. She screamed at herself inside her head. She had promised not to cry. Yet. She looked into the goat's eyes, widening with fear and felt remorse. She sliced the throat again. Just meat, that was all it was. Just living, breathing meat. The blood poured quickly down the hill. She felt a screaming inside her head, and thoughts that couldn't have been hers. It was the goats dieing thoughts and protests.

By the time she got to the sheep, she hated herself even more. She walked around the slain and laid the sheep down on the opposite side of the miniature valley. The sheep seemed to know what was coming, and made no attempt to save itself. It accepted its fate. She closed her eyes as she held the blade in place, and made a clean, fine swipe. This time, there were no protests inside her head, and no pain to taste on her tongue. Only peace and calm, for the lamb knew and had accepted long ago.

She would slay the black crow first. She carried the whole cage over to her side and took a long moment to look upon its inhabitants. She couldn't spend too much time, for she knew it was wasting away. The crow was a shiny black, and beautiful in it's own ways. She grabbed the bird by its neck and pulled it out of the cage not caring about the injuries she might suffer from at the beak of the bird. She held it down with little effort and cut. The blood sprayed and poured out, although there was little to be had in comparison to the other creatures.

The dove seemed to know. It had observed it all. It fought the hardest out of all of them, afraid of its fate. She laid it down, and with a final "coo" ended it's life.

The sun had moved into the three-o-clock position and all had been slain on time. All but one. She stood at the top and observed her handy work. All in preparation for her demise. She took the blade and looked up towards the sky. The clear, endless, blue sky was what she wished to be her final vision. She raised the knife and made a clean cut across her own pale, graceful neck. Deep red, almost black, thick, liquid spilled from her neck and she crumpled to the ground. Her hand went slack around the knife. The wind whipped around her. She had lived her final hour in regret and pain.

On the puddle of collected blood lay a single white feather. Pure, glinting, white. Not of a dove and certainly not of the crow, but from she. Yes, she, an angel. An angel that had fallen from grace. It floated on top of the blood weightlessly while some other feathers were blown away in the wind.

She had seen the world crash down around her. She was in a place made of dreams now. Not dreams, nightmares. She felt like she was floating for a while and then she felt something at her back. It was a crushing darkness. It had weight. That was wrong� It was tangible, and it had a weight to it. Like it was crushing you. It overwhelmed her. She screamed out in the darkness. This was real fear, real despair. This was complete darkness, sucking away at her, feeding off of her. This wasn't supposed to happen. Now she knew why so many people were afraid of the dark. The children weren't really scared of the monster under the bed, but the dark. Because the dark was scary. At least this dark was scary. This dark promised death and pain and torture and no escape. Like�like what everything was before there was light and water, and life, and land. This was nothingness, not just an absence of light but also NOTHING. An absence of all life. That's what was frightening.

She was mistaken. There was an escape. Eventually. She, being the celestial being she was, weather or not she had fallen from grace, was not meant to end like this. Oh no, something much worse in the long run was meant for her. She didn't know that energy couldn't be destroyed but only changed. She was changed. She was put back on earth and here she was thousands of years later. Being in this world was worse than nothingness. Worse than darkness. It was her hell. It was life.

She slid off the stone and walked into the open land. She followed the same path she had on that one day. The final day of pleasure, although it seemed like pain at the time. She came to the miniature valley and looked down towards the center. There was an energy radiating from the middle of it. Not energy as much as an emotion. It was pain, loathing, hate, despair, sadness, depression, hopelessness, and remorse all rolled into one big energy. She dropped to her knees to look at the empty spot. The spot where she had fallen, the spot where no grass had dared to grow, even after all this time and she wept.

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