Chains rattle in the dark. There is no light. But even then, the one bound by the fetters is blindfolded. The being's hair is long, skin soft but covered in dirt and grime. It is a girl, a child, but it cannot be called a human being. No arms, no legs, no older from birth than 13 years. No, not from birth, from manufacturing. That thing was made no more than 5 years ago.
No arms.
No legs.
Merely a body with a head.
Such was the being chained, something which could not be called human. Not because its limbs were lost. That thing lost its humanity even before then. Rather, those limbs were removed because it had lost its humanity. The fact these chains rattled despite all the restrictions was proof of its monstrous existence.
A door creaks open, it is the only one to the prison. A lone ray of light piercing into the darkness and reflected off the unkempt silver hair that covered it.
The thing opens its mouth, its voice is steady, unpained, unburdened. Its existence as a human no longer of any importance to itself as shown in its lack of inflectioned speech.
"What may I do for you Queen Elizard?"
Elizard, the name of the current queen of England. She stands by the doorway but does not enter. Her face normally handles a genial smile, or a look of determined finality. Now it sports neither. Regret, guilt, disgust, apathy, pity, many contradicting feelings swirl inside the wisened old lady. It may not have been by her hand, but it was by her decree that this child would suffer this fate.
"John's pen, I would like to consult the Index Librorum Prohibitorum."
Silence.
"Consultation with the index denied. Preface, paragraph 2. Contact with the Index requires special permission, undoing of the 'necklace' from both the queen of England and the archbishop of the 0th sect church of necessary evils, Necessarius."
The words were cold, cold as the stone walls and floors, cold as the chains wrapped around the body of what should have been a child. But those words were nothing against a steadfast queen. The woman brings forth a blade, the holy sword of ceremonies and war. Curtana Replica, or better known as Curtana Second. The symbol of the country of England.
One strike, that was all it took. Chains snapped, the blindfold had one hole cut into it. The thing fell from the height it was held. Hanging only by its stomache two feet above the stone floor.
"I have undone my seal.", Queen Elizard spoke.
Within that precarious state, the one called John's pen continued to speak impersonally. "Release of the seal confirmed. Process of unsealing caused substantial damage to the 'necklace'. Attempting repair. Error. Damage is substantial, spreading to secondary and tertiary seal structure. Warning, Index Librorum Prohibitorum, release is imminent."
"Cease protocols."
"Orders received. Processed. Confirmed. Restoration paused."
"Index."
"..."
"Index, I know you can hear me."
"..."
"You are an existence that should never have been. And yet you are an existence which is needed."
"..."
"Do not look at me like that. Within this world there exists monsters who are like you, those who can distort the world without much effort. That is why you are needed, England needs a monster to combat these other monsters."
"So that was why you separated myself from John's pen? For her to give you the knowledge while I exist to store it?"
"So you finally speak.", the old queen smiles wryly. "That is somewhat true. You have far more functions than that however."
"What is it you want queen?"
"I would like for you to meet another monster."
"What could be called monstrous before the representative 103,000 grimoires?"
"Would you not call monstrous", Elizard grinned evilly. "a power that is both a misfortune and a miracle? A power that can render your grimoires powerless and destroyed?"
The limbless being near the ground scoffed. "Such a power does not exist. The destruction of an original is impossible."
"Then why don't you confirm it yourself? The existence of the power known as Imagine Breaker."
Golden eyes glowed against black sclera, peering through the peek of the blindfold.
"Very well."
Chains clattered in the darkness violently. The stone walls and floor, all of it groaned under an unknown force as the fetters began to pull themselves taut. To the point the chains eventually blasted their individual links like popcorn. The metal bits smashed and bouncesd against the prison, damage minimized by the layers upon layers of barriers and enchantments meant to contain its charge. Soon the flying bits began to funnel in, they broke down into dust and specks the naked eye could not see.
The mass surrounded Index, lifting her off the ground. It cocooned about her in a violent storm before finally being completely absorbed in its implosion. What alighted was a girl with silver hair extending lone enough to be the train of a dress, her skin fair and soft. Her clothes changed from a dirty tunic to a nun's habit the color of soot and coal opposed to her pearly white skin. What little hands and feet showed were also a deep gray, as if they were unclean. And yet those hands and feet were clearly gray from the palor. The blindfold still existed, complete with the hole cut into it by Curtana. The blindfold made especially to block out the crimson magic circles glowing within golden irises on black sclera.
It walked past its liberator, towards the portal that showed it freedom. But as she did so, she declared.
"I accept this mission to crush Imagine Breaker."
A monster had been unleashed.