The moon was bright and full, washing its pale silver light over the slumbering town below. Down by a bay window sat an elderly lady, staring up at the moon. What had once been luxurious raven hair was now withered strands of white, held together tightly by a bun at the nape of her neck. Her rheumy eyes, once so bright and alive, gazed unseeing up into the silver light. Her body, which used to be so strong and supple, was a wasted husk. And her features.. So delicate and pretty once in a bygone age, was now ravaged with battle scars, age and the weight of all that she had seen and endured.

Was she really once young and full of energy? She could faintly remember skipping down the echoing hallways of the Order, full of laughter and optimism. The Order.. It was long gone, defeated ages ago by the Earl and his minions. As if through a tattered veil, she could still faintly recall the faces of those she once held so dear; Lavi, who had disappeared without warning with Bookman one day and was never heard of again; Kanda, who had since succumbed to his curse, though he had fought valiantly all the way; Komui, dear Komui, who gave his life to protect the Order even though he was not an Exorcist and was only a normal human..

And Allen. Who was one of the main reasons behind the defeat of the Order. He had eventually lost to the emerging Noah within him, and had gone over to the dark side. He.. Her missing leg involuntarily gave a phantom twitch. She had lost her Innocence to him, alon with one of her legs. At that time, her vision blurred by red waves of pain, the last thing she saw was his face grinning above hers; his face which is so hauntingly familiar yet so alien. The next thing she knew, she had woken up deep within the ruins of the former Headquarters, surrounded by the remains of the brave defenders of their home, defiant to the last. The sky was red, as red as the blood that flowed in crimson rivers all around her. Somehow she had miraculously and shamefully survived where hundreds had died, and since then she had spent her life alone on the run; plagued by fear and tugging memories.

She was no longer the little girl who wept in her bed, for there was no more tears to weep.

Had she once soared at will through the skies? She could not remember. Her memories of the past were dim and old, scabbed over by time and pain. She could still dimly recall the faces; the pieces of her world, now torn and scattered. Her fading memories of the past was like a slow death of who she was. What then would she become, when all her memories had gone? Would she still be herself, or would she live on meaninglessly as an empty husk?

But for now, a single memory still burned bright: a memory of a long-lost golden afternoon, of waking up to the smell of charred fish, the sound of her nii-san's embarrassed laughter, the peaceful chirping of the sparrows outside the paper window, and the sunlight that was like liquid gold. A transient memory of love.

A requiem of the past.

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Lenalee sat up gasping. Moonlight flooded her room, shading everything in geometric panes of silver and black. Was that a dream? Or was it a vision of the future? The image of the silent ravaged figure by the moonlit window was so vivid.. She started to shake uncontrollably.

For the rest of the long night she did not sleep, but remained motionless with her face buried in her pillow.