Prologue(II) : Where worlds collide and days are dark

Perhaps, to a youth of sixteen years, novelty can whisk away all burdens and temporarily render even the most mature adolescent as carefree as an airborne swallow. All his premonitions for tomorrow and the day after, conveniently forgotten as if the golden rays of the evening sun could forever illuminate the road ahead.
While such is true for most youths, not everybody can have the privilege to bask in the warmth of sunlight. For some, even the great mass of fire at the center of our solar system cannot not elevate the internal frigidity of their souls. Sunny days weren't rare in this part of the world, or so she had heard. To her days and nights merely signified the passage of time, when one constantly travels around the globe, mystical symbolism behind the rotation of the earth inevitably drowns under rationality of conscious thought.
The dark apparition was really a girl in her mid teens. Although the look in her eyes was rather mature for her age, her youthful face gave her away. With a stony expression she waded through the crowd, trying her absolute best to avoid physical contact with the peddlers. She steadily marched away from the main street and towards a narrow alley. This place had brick walled houses on both sides. This was not her first time on the job but she could hardly get used to it. As she went further in, she tied a black masquerade mask over the upper half of her face, it was a precautionary measure, more so to adhere to etiquette rather than practicality. This area had no security cameras, such arrangements was put in place by the victim himself so as to not give his location away, ironically it ended up helping his hunters. An unsupervised area was inarguably a killer's paradise.
Back at the main street the crowd had gotten thicker. The bagpipe players on the footpaths had already begun playing a slow tune. The event that Vittore, the adolescent boy with Hazel eyes had especially anticipated was just starting. 
Men and women in coloured attire arranged themselves in concentric rows, lively chatter filled the air. Today was the last day of the harvest festival. Though not an agricultural settlement, this mountainous town nonetheless joined in on the nationwide celebration to thank their gods for the bounty harvest.
As the slow music steadied, Vittore joined the merry makers. This was one of his last days here. He felt it was a shame that he couldn't stay longer, barely six months had elapsed since his family had moved and they already had to leave. Despite his sadness, he could not do anything about it, their location was most likely discovered and his family had no choice but to move once again. Thus, Vittore felt it was all the more important that he enjoy his last days.
In less then twenty minutes, the girl, clothed in black from head to toe emerged from a red bricked house. Her bloodied right hand mildly shook as she vehemently rubbed the blood away with a silk hankerchief. Only after making sure no traces of the blood remained did her contorted face relax. 
Upon regaining her composure she slowly took out a matchstick from her purse, lighting it up against the match box, she threw it towards the front yard. Her accomplice had made arrangements to guarantee that the flame would slowly but surely engulf the house. She stayed for a few more minutes to watch as the flame spread from the front porch to the wooden nameplate.
The current occupants of the house didnot boast that name. Here took refuge a man who posed a serious hindrance to the Axis' cause, he deserved death, or so her uncle had said. Her uncle would not lie to her ofcourse. 
As flames seeped into the house spreading like a venomous dragon extending its talons, the girl tossed her purse along with the handkerchief and the mask into them and quietly made her way out.
She stepped onto the main street, her ears buzzed from the dying man's screams, blocking all other sounds. She walked with her head hung low without taking heed of where she was headed until somebody bumped into her, knocking her hat askew. Only then did she register her surroundings.
Lively folk music spilled from all over. On the streets men and women in festive attire danced to its rhythm, uniform footwork tapped against paved cement, the crowd moved as one. And somehow she had walked right into the middle of it.
On the another side of the street Vittore blended right in, his feet moving in tandem with that of the others. Everybody smiled and laughed, the world an array of colours. It felt as if time itself rose and fell with this tune of euphoric bliss. Sunlight fell upon his face as he smiled to welcome it's comforting warmth, in this moment nothing stood to separate him from his heart's delight.The music's momentum suddenly slowed and the soft sound of a violin gained prominence as the rhythm built up for the last chorus. Vittore moved with the rest as people brushed eachother's hands swinging to and fro. Just then the cold autumn wind bringing with it the sweet scent of maple leaves brushed past him as his line of brilliantly variegated sight found itself obstructed by a dark silhoutte. 
She donned ark attire and her face had a certain palor that was more likely the result of shaken nerves than a lack of melanin. 
Perspectives are the the most varied things in this mortal world, Vittore knew this better than some others but in this moment of unrestrained bliss he found it hard to fathom any other form of reception to such an ambience. Indeed, what felt like harmonious frolicking to one could essentially intrusive jostling to another.
With a hand on her–blacksleeve covered–forearm he managed to steady her. The girl who looked completely at a loss fixed his eyes on him and for a fleeting moment a look of amazement came over both of them as their eyes met. 
Then the wind picked up pace along with the music, she detached herself and forcefully moved past the dancing crowd. It was Vittore's turn to feel lost and that too for no apparent reason, he clumsily excused himself so as to not get in the way and gazed over his shoulder to see the receding silhoutte of the girl fading into the distance.
As for herself she knew she had no place in a world of colour and life. The music chorused for one last time as the sun gave way to the dark of the night—all in accordance with the little God of death that was her.