Green eyes.

Beautiful gems glittered under the lamp post at the other end of the alley. They widened, fear taking over as his body jolted forward into a sprint.

I watched, everything in slow motion as he made his way toward me; the dark gloomy alleyway looked twice as long. I could see his desperation, his orange-gold strands that were bound together by a black gold ribbon with ancient text began to glow— the sensation of magic in the air evident.

But it didn't matter. Something told me my fate had been set in stone and nothing could change it.

Or maybe it was the five magical creatures that flowed out of the opened pocket watch that made my hand tremble and held such immense weight for a small piece of machinery.

I could see the other five men come into view— all of them sprinting in slow motion to reach my side. My eyes rose to face the five beings above me while they danced in celebration. Or was it an act of mockery for setting them free?

The magic that surrounded me was suffocating, making me struggle to breathe— leaving me frozen in crippling fear at the overflow of essence that could potentially kill me— stronger than my mother and father who were the strongest shifters I'd known.

They crashed into one another— creating a spinning wheel of color; red, white, blue, gold and pink.

I watched in awe, my eyes growing wide as the spinning bundle of color shot forward: straight into my body.

The impact lifted me off my feet, the force of magic surging through my body as my legs and hands dangled in front of me.

I couldn't distinguish what was stronger— the unbearable pain that coursed through my veins or the stunned and fearful expressions of the men approaching me as I made my slow descent to the ground.

Before I hit the grey, wet pavement, I blinked, opening my eyes to stare at the six men. But something changed.

My fear didn't linger on my sense of impending doom as the power I once feared drummed through my veins, but on the fear of leaving these men— the ones I loved, again.

As my conscious wavered, the flicker of emotions and memories flashed by in my mind, leaving just as fast while dark spots claimed my vision.

I finally hit the ground; my body bounced from the heavy impact and energy that struggled to stay in my body, like trying to close a container with too much fluid— the excess spilling out with force.

My head hit the ground the hardest, falling back till all I could see was an upside image of the way I'd come.

The one time I hadn't listened to James, it led to my death. A tear rolled down my cheek as I struggled to breathe through my nostrils— blood already began to pool within them and trail down my esophagus.

I wanted to gag or move my head to the side to let the metallic tasting liquid have a way to escape, but I was nothing but a broken rag doll, laying on the cold wet floor, unable to move.

The final image I saw was my best friend— those ruby red eyes that I'd loved and soft, light pink lips I'd kiss when he craved my touch.

I thought if I died, I would at least feel a sense of fulfillment for living a decent life. But as my eyes began to close just as my best friend ran forward, I regretted not telling him how I truly felt. To tell him how much I yearned for us to be a couple and not a fling based only on emotions and alcohol.

I loved him…yet, I also loved these six men who were nothing but a group of strangers who had loved and cherished me till my very last breaths.

As my conscious finally began to fade, my body began to fail one part at a time; in that moment I knew I'd died before. I'd lived, enjoyed the joys of love and fame, and had died a horrible death— a demise I didn't deserve.

As I took a final breath, my lungs unable to spare any more energy, I made a silent plea.

If I survived this, I would conquer my fears. I would love wholeheartedly and not be afraid to speak my mind and what troubled my heart.

I would enjoy each breath I took and strive toward my dreams rather than the ambitions of others.

Most importantly, I would love. Love without boundaries and follow my heart.

The last thing I heard was my name; a part of me remembered the way it rolled off James’ tongue whereas the larger part of me didn't recognize its foreign origin.

"CRIMSON!"