A/N: i kept you guys waited long enough. enjoy!

"Can't you stay a little longer?" She asks, biting her red lips. Eric averted his eyes elsewhere. Those lips he had kissed. He had to forget about it. He was no longer needed in the queen's place. He shifted his weight to his other foot, giving her a small smile.

It had been 3 months after the death of Queen Ravenna. The kingdom had prospered and flourished underneath Snow White's ruling. Many people rejoiced, celebrating for three days for her return to the throne and victory to Ravenna and her Dark Army.

Ravenna's quarters were later removed, particularly the gold mirror she had cherished so much. The mirror had been moved to the lower chambers, hidden behind the weapons and armors. William had insisted on breaking the mirror but Snow White refused. She wanted to be part of the castle, as a reminder to everyone what the queen was obsessed about that had killed her for it.

"I have my own path to take, Your Majesty." He said a little thick. In truth, he didn't want to leave. He wanted to be by her side. He wanted to tell her that he was the one that kissed her. Snow White shook her head looking up at the handsome huntsman. He was clean shaven and for once, smelled nice.

"Where will you be?" she asks, following him to the hall of mirrors. There were few nobles roaming around the hall of mirrors, chatting amongst themselves. Once in a while, a bow or curtsy was greeted to the queen.

"South. I'm starting to open a business there." He replied. That was a lie. They both knew it. He had nowhere to go.

"Sir, your ride," The footman said to Eric when they reached the foyer. He looked at the horse and back at Snow White. There was sadness in her eyes. He wishes he could kiss it away.

"Well," She clasped her hands together with a tight smile, "Good luck, Eric." He only nodded, turning on his heels and left. He didn't dare to look back. If he did, he would stay.

The village streets of Sabyet were deserted and silent. No creatures of the night made their songs to the moon. Dark shadows cast around each bend of the cobbled roads. A sudden breathless whimper danced out of the darkness, just before a short, plump man came staggering out.

He turned into the road and began running as fast as he could with his fists pumping in the air with determination to reach his destination. A dark shadow swooped over him and blocked the moon's light for no more than a second. The man jumped, still running, and looked up at the sky warily. They were already there. Sweat was starting to form on his bald head but he didn't bother to wipe.

The man pushed aside his fearful thoughts and kept running without slowing down for anything. Finally, the man came to the center of the village and his eyes fell upon a large church ahead. He was safe. He jogged up the wide, concrete steps to make his way to the wooden doors. A large shadow whizzed past him from behind and he felt something push against his back. A short cry escaped his lips; he tumbled down onto his front.

"Where are you running to, old man?" A chuckling voice echoes from somewhere at the bottom of the steps, "You have nowhere to hide."

The man slammed the door shut behind him and spun around so suddenly, lost his balance and fell down onto the cold floor. He scurried away from the door and waited for it to swing open. But it didn't. He rolled over onto his knees and leant against one of the benches to help him up. He proceeded towards the altar whilst pulling out a rosary from inside his cloak. When he reached the end, he pulled his hood back, and gazed up at the large statue of Jesus upon his cross which was nailed to the wall.

"Pater noster, qui es in caelis, sanctificetur nomen tuum. Adveniat regnum tuum..." He began whispering, his voice cracking with fear. The two wooden doors at the back of the church exploded open and broke away from their hinges. The man whipped around to see them crash into the back benches, and a cloud of dust and wood chippings filled the entrance's doorway to prevent him from seeing who had caused such damage. The leader of the Shadow Hunters. The man gripped the end of his and began muttering his prayer again.

A tall man dressed in pure black entered with his cape swishing behind him, and his boots creating sharp, merciless clicks upon the ground. He marched up the isle at a powerful, strong pace with three others following behind him. His attacker stopped at the foot of the steps and glared up at him with his silver, hateful eyes burning out from the darkness of his hood. There was a scar running from the top of his eyebrow down to his cheek bone. It only enhanced his look.

"Is this your sanctuary, fool?" He growled, "Let's see this 'God' of yours save you now."

His victim cried out and sank to the floor as his attacker landed on the top step right before him. His rosary fell out of his hand. His stalker smirked devilishly and bowed down onto one knee before him.

"Tell me..." He whispered, "Where is the one with the silver hair?"

The vulnerable man before him closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. He was a brave one. Stupid, but brave. The face of his attacker slowly scrunched up into a representation of annoyance and fury, and his hand darted out, and locked upon the front of the old man's neck. The man gasped loudly and tried to free himself, to no prevail.

"I know you know where she is. You've watched over her for many years. Tell me!" The attacker spat.

"Verr..."- The man closed his eyes and tried to swallow down some air.

"Where?" The attacker tightened his grip.

"Verin-oa..," His attacker softened his grip slightly, and he was able to speak, "Verin-a. She's in Verinoa!"

The attacker's expression softened and his concentration drifted elsewhere as he replayed the name over and over in his mind. Verinoa. The attacker let go of the old man's throat and slowly rose up to his original height. His eyes remained distant, and dreamy, and he turned away from the altar and tiptoed delicately down the steps.

"Let's go. We have all the information needed." He ordered.

The old man released a breathless number of disappointed sobs and tilted his head back to gaze up at the ceiling in his guilt.

"Indulgeo mihi abbas..." He whispered.

"Kill him. Make it slow, for his hesitation." The attacker snarled, and sent dark, excited smiles to his partners.

"No!" The old man gasped, and snapped his begging eyes onto the other three men.

They all began approaching him and glided up the steps with malicious smiles upon their pale faces. The old man shook his head and held his free hand out in front of him.

"Nooooo!" He screamed in desperation, and his voice echoed around the room.