~Prologue ___________________________ Sarah Morris sat in her room, chewing the end of her pen, composing a letter. The building was dark and silent but for the lamp beside her flickering as though with a candlelight quality, emitting a low, whirring hum as she worked, when the doorbell rang. startled, she rose, wrapping a dressing gown around her and checking her hair and make-up quickly in the mirror, but with no prospect of fixing it. /Who on earth comes calling at this hour?/ she thought to herself, tutting inside of her head as she made her way through the desolate hall and down the oak staircases, each floorboard creaking as she went. The antique clock on the wall told the hour to be 1am. As she slipped a brass key into the lock and turned the handle, the sound of a sweet melody filled her ears. The figure that stood in the doorway was tall and cloaked in billowing black robes unlike any she'd ever seen on a person before, with long, wavy hair that was a rich golden colour, illuminated by an overhead streetlamp. Her posture was straight and her head was held high, and she was cradling a small, wriggling bundle in her arms. Mrs Morris, taken aback by her splendour and grandeur was for a moment too stunned to notice how weak and thin the woman looked. "C-can I help you, mistress?" She croaked, clutching the lintel above her head as though hanging onto it for support. She was surprised to hear her own voice so hoarse. "Take her. Please, I beg of you," the woman said, looking down at the bundle in her arms, "and give her a home, despite any... paranormal qualities she may display." "I-" she began, regaining her composure. At that moment, the child's shawl shifted slightly and revealed a lock of bright red hair. But then, without warning, it shifted to a merky fuisha colour, and then to light purple. The baby giggled and clapped her tiny hands, so pale that she looked like a living corpse. The woman raised a long, wooden stick until it was level with her face, but did not move her lips. "What in the-" Mrs Morris began, but at that moment, a cool trickle of what felt like water seemed to be falling down her back. The world around her grew numb and hazy, as though all former thoughts had been wiped from her mind. It was a feeling so blissful that she wished it to last forever. But then, she heared the voice of the strange woman in her ear. "Accept. Just accept," it said, with a sweetness that reminded her of honey in her morning tea, "Say that you'll take her in." The words rang in her mind over and over, and as though it were somebody else controlling her body, she uttered a small yes, and took the bundle from her without another word. She was halfway down the deserted hall when she returned to her senses. Still carrying the child, she re-opened the door and gazed out onto the street, but the strange woman was nowhere to be seen. Hanging around the neck of the young girl in her arms, there was a small, copper locket engraved with curling letters. First a P, them an E, until she realised what it said: Persephone. As she made to lift it from around her neck, a searing pain burned white-hot where the metal had made contact with her skin, as though she had been touched by a flame. The girl's hair turned coal-black as she looked upon her. The woman had not given a surname. Persephone... Ash? To match the current colour of her hair? Her nose suddenly curled into a pointed duck's beak, and she gave a little squeal of delight. Her appearance was constantly changing, like a river almost, ever-changing, ever flowing. The girl's eyes switched from sharp green to sweet cerulean, like water. "Persephone Ashbrook... a child kissed by Satan, no doubt," she muttered, turning away from the door.
