Caelestis
•••
The original plot to the story, of Sakura Kinomoto becoming Haggar's apprentice, belongs to Scorpinac, with his piece "The Witch's Apprentice". Card Captor Sakura and the Voltron series does not belong to me in any way.
•••
She only knows her name.
(Sakura.)
Her name is the only thing that is truly hers — she does not care for nothing else really, she has no will nor determination to achieve anything. It's the reason as to why both the Emperor and Advisor, the Dark Witch Haggar, are so…fond…of her. It was because of her blank gaze and empty soul, the way she does not question nor she fails in any of her tasks.
Sakura does that because, why wouldn't she? What reason does she have to deny them? She's not grateful for Haggar finding her drifting aimlessly around a raging supernova, engulfed and protected only with a shield made purely by her own energy — that's how Haggar tells her how she found her, with a greedy gaze as she speaks of it, voice dripping with jealousy and awe of her as she slowly guides her through the works of a galra's anatomy.
Sakura, a human of twelve years in body when found orbiting a supernova, emitted so much power. So much potential, Haggar said to her once.
"I had plans for you, girl." Her gaze is cold and unforgiving as she watched the struggling child trying to not succumb into the raging darkness of the spell — Sakura had to control it, otherwise she would only be controlled by it. "With your immense power, not even Voltron would be able to defeat us." The old Witch's mouth twists with disappointment and disgust, at Sakura no doubt — the girl thinks blankly — she's always a reason for disappointment when they're not in the presence of the Emperor. "But as soon as we take you from your orbit, as soon as we depart from that retched place — you lose it all." The Witch's gaze is cruel and bitter, but Sakura does not care, so she simply stares right back at her with dead green eyes.
She masters the spell.
The Witch was not kind, nor was she too cruel. Sakura knew pain and tenderness — at those rare, so rare, moments when the Witch looked at her with irrefutable respect and awe. Those moments when Sakura's untapped fire shone through and obliterated whatever was in her path — those moments the witch looked at her with undeniable pride and Sakura almost felt…something.
But the cold hard truth of her life were those moments where the Witch searched, and searched, and searched, and searched, for that sparkle of power that would give the Emperor the edge of power he always desired. But Haggar could not find it, could not hold it and could not have it. And if Sakura was to blame for it, then she must be punished.
Sakura knew — the witch would one day take all of what hers to keep her immortality.
Sakura doesn't care.
Why would she?
She only has her name.
•••
Sakura couldn't look away from the three humans. They were humans, and she doesn't even know if she had ever encountered one. She was told to be of their race — and she didn't even know she had a race. Three years since her awakening and discovery — she knew nothing beyond the most basic of anatomy facts of her own race.
"Come girl." The raspy voice of her master interrupted her musings. "Zarkon has asked for their presence here for further information — we shall not disappoint the Emperor."
She looks back at her master's back, already walking away from the soon-to-be slaves and expecting her to follow, and with a graceful spin and her billowy dark cloak flutters around her feet, Sakura follows the older witch. She glances delicately over her shoulder at the three humans, her hidden gaze briefly meeting the eyes of the shorter one who looks at her small cloaked form with wide eyes before she looked at her master's hunched back.
Behind her, the slaves were being dragged, the taller one loudly protesting in his own language. With a quick twist of her fingers, she concentrated on his brain, looking for the most active part of it, with all his raging sentiments liberating chemical reactions around his brain it was harder to find the part dedicated to his language.
We really need to better our knowledge on human anatomy…it would be easier if I knew exactly where and which hormones to search for. This is simply sloppy.
Nonetheless, she snapped a mental connection with him, rendering the male speechless as he felt her forceful mental bridge.
The easier language, the one he speaks now…English. The second one… She stumbles, and her master looks back as the guards and the slaves stop to look at her. Her gaze is wide and, for once, focused and definitely not blank. She looks at the floor, her caramel (it's a match to her hair color, caramel, she can see in his memories when associated with colors, her hair is of caramel color) fringe, always delicately framing her face, is hanging out of the hood as she pants in mild panic.
"Girl!"
In a mere second she snaps back into her place, gaze turning soulless once more and with her posture snapping into perfection as she took a step forward.
"I am fine master, I've just stumbled into a small problem with a mental bridge."
The old witch huffed in jest.
"Of course you have," she glances at the three prisoners with a cruel smirk. "Little human."
Sakura could feel the shock coming from them, could feel the doubt and confusion coming from…Takashi. Biting her lip, she quickly closed the mental bridge, letting her magic rest asleep into his body (she knew that her magic would remain in his body, unlike her master's — so corrupt that it would become a parasite into the human's body and he wouldn't be useful if that happened).
Nodding she quickly followed her master as she resumed their path.
Looking at the three prisoners over her shoulder, Sakura let her gaze fall over the black headed one — the one named Takashi Shirogane.
Her empty gaze turns back towards her master, and she could feel her hands shaking.
Sakura…cherry blossom.
A beautiful image of an grand tree with dark wood and soft pink leaves, resting on the very top of a green hill passes through her mind's eye.
Japanese. Am I Japanese?
The language now filtering through her mind was familiar. Very, very familiar.
A deep fire is lit into her and Sakura could feel a slight shift into the numbness she felt for the two years of life she could remember.
•••
Sakura is there when he gains the title of 'Champion'.
She later discovers his little rebellion and it isn't too hard to join the dots and figure out his act to protect his little friend.
Her Master, of course, laughs at it all and soon he is chosen.
It is a game of Haggar's — to make powerful 'weapons', to try and create a perfect warrior.
Takashi Shirogane loses an arm and gains a metal one — more powerful than he himself knows.
Sakura watches all of his battles.
(And if she bets on him in every one of them, her master only smirks smugly.)
"You'll one day need to procreate, to make another little human with powers such as yours…" Haggar says, one dark hand pinching the girl's chin and lifting it up, looking at Sakura as a collector observes their precious collection.
Sakura only nods, but something in her screams and rages and says 'how dare you?!'.
But she only nods — why would she say otherwise?
She only has her name.
(Wake up! Wake up! That's not you! That's not you!)
•••
Today, one year after the arrival of the three humans, Sakura killed one slave.
That wasn't new, Sakura killed too many slaves since she woke up in Haggar's care to count. But today was different — she killed a slave right in front of the Champion's eyes.
He (the slave, the weak one) was one of his opponents, a common and non-threatening race that was put against him in the arena just to mess with the man's mind. He was little and cowering and the Champion (she couldn't keep calling him by his name. It was too personal, too close), the sentimental fool that he was, didn't kill him. His words, so full of defiance and certainty, still echoes in her ears.
"I will not fight with him!" His eyes shone with a confidence that almost made her want to reach for him. "He is no fighter!"
Sakura, standing beside her master as Haggar loomed by the Emperor's throne side, almost closed her eyes in pain when the Emperor's amused chuckle reached her ears.
(She knew her orders.)
"Little human," His powerful, rasping voice fell over her like a blanket of thorns. "Show your kin the power of my Empire. Show him what must be done to those who are weak." Her hands fisted by her sides, but her face remained blank, with her dead eyes only moving sideways to her master. The old witch looked at her with assessing eyes, chin moving slightly towards the little imp cowering at the arena.
"Obliterate it."
She did as she was told to.
"Vrepit sa."
(So easily.)
•••
She came from the skies like a falling star.
In one moment Shiro is yelling at the crowd, telling them that he would not play their games anymore, that he would not fight with someone who did not know how to. He was fed up with their macabre ways, he had lost an arm and his honor but he would not kill someone who did not deserve it.
He couldn't do it.
(In that moment he lost his mind thinking they would listen to him. How could such cruel people, cheering so loudly at death and destruction, ever understand the concept on mercy?)
Shiro turns and looks at the cowering alien in front of him, only to meet pitiful eyes full of bittersweet gratefulness.
And with a boom she fell right in between them.
Her land was like a bomb, creating a crater around her dainty feet. As the dust faded, he could see her with one knee on the ground in the very centre of the crater, her whole body surrounded by a purple glow, she had one hand on the ground and the other on top of her bent knee. As she stood, her hair so soft and with big curls on its very points, was high in a pony tail with two shorter strands framing the sides of her face and a perfectly cut fringe covering her forehead. Her body was covered by a dark cape trimmed with gold lining, the same one as her master, with her hood down.
He knows that she is a human, but it is the first time he has seen her face.
She's beautiful — the most beautiful girl he has seen. Delicate.
He eyes though — her eyes are soulless green pits. They're empty and disturbing.
It's as their eyes meet that he knows — she's not here by her own will.
She does not even have a will of her own.
The crowd goes wild with her presence. They call for her, they worship her. She's powerful he knows.
The girl — she's certainly a girl — looks at his would-be-opponent and then looks back at him.
Her eyes, for a moment, shine with a deep sadness.
Then, she points one dainty finger at the cowering alien (a slave, a civilian, an innocent who should not be there) and the creature screams in absolutely pain as his skin seems to boil.
"No!" Shiro hears his voice, but doesn't even feel himself moving or screaming, he is in shock at what he sees — at the way the alien's body reddens and a faint smoke starts to come out of his body, the skin rapidly blistering, forming brunt holes and bubbles. The blood burning him from inside and covering his entire body into it bit it was quickly evaporating. "Stop!"
Her other hand waves at him lazily, almost absent-mindedly, and he is slammed on the far wall of the arena.
He falls to the ground, hand extended towards her almost as if he could reach her and stop her torture. And, as he sees her hand pointed at the alien open, thin and long fingers spread out, the alien is taken off the ground and his whole body explodes, gore flying all over the arena as her hand closes in a tight fist.
(And the crowd goes wild!)
Shiro can feel the small pieces of flesh and blood fall over him like rain as his eyes meet her empty green gaze, and he falls into sweet oblivion.
•••
"What do we do with him, my lady?"
Sakura's hood is up again, and she is grateful for the long sleeves of her cape, otherwise the Galra officials around her would notice her fisted hands.
The Champion is absolutely still on the metal table, looking at her with wide eyes but not moving one muscle due to the straps holding him down, being readied for another operation — an enhancement of his metal arm. The pain he would feel would be his punishment for the rebellion he displayed on the arena, and she's to take care of his future behavior from now on.
It's the Emperor's wish.
"I'll make sure he does not fail again. He'll fight whatever battle Zarkon fancies him to fight after I'm through with him. Leave him chained in my chambers, I'll do the rest by myself."
With that said she turned away, letting the druids do their orders as she searched for her master.
The screams echoed in the halls behind her.
When she was far enough, Sakura let herself fall heavily on the wall by her left, ignoring the slight pain coming from her shoulder by the impact. Her right hand gripped her head tightly, as if it would contain the immense pain she could feel. Her eyes were open wide and staring at the ground with a lost gaze.
Soon, her knees gave out and she fell to the floor, panting in pain (or was it something else?). Her head felt as if it was being splinted in half, a muted voiced scream at her, screamed to her.
Screamed with her.
The sound of footsteps reached her ears, but she ignored them — she knew it was her Master. Sakura could feel the woman's dark power coiling around her like poison. The darkness made the pain cease, made the numbness she felt for the whole of her remembered life return like a balm to her empty soul.
"Come girl. It's time for you to elevate your power." The psych's eyes glinted with a sick unnatural light. "I'll show you…the Quintessence."
Still gasping, Sakura looked down at her hands. Spread out on the floor and supporting her body, they looked small and fragile — but she knew how much blood soaked them. Redirecting her empty gaze towards her master, she kneeled and stood up, her magic strengthening her body to support the no doubt endless training the old witch would make her go through.
She followed Haggar, no hesitation in her steps.
(The Champion was safe in her chambers.)
•••
Shiro wakes up with a terrible pain in his head and body, all of him was hurting, and his arms were pinned up and stretching his body in the most painful of ways. His blurry sight told him nothing of his surroundings, only of it's darkness.
But it was not his cell.
Taking a deep breath, ignoring the pain from his definitely bruised ribs, Shiro could smell the clean air around him.
Definitely not a cell.
It took a few minutes, but soon he could see better, and then he could identify what must be someone's chambers. An officer's maybe? Tugging at his arms, he used his hands to feel the metal pole he was chained to. Straining his neck, he twisted around to see that he was at the very center of the room. He could make out a huge bed under a long and narrow window showing the the dark horizon of space, distant stars being the only light in the room.
Shiro gulped.
Definitely not a cell — nor an officer's bunker.
He remained there, chained to a metal pole in a dark room, for hours.
Hours passed, and he could no longer feel his body quite right. He was painting in pain, and maybe fever, but no one appeared.
He slept.
Only to wake up again to the loud opening of the door as someone ran into the room, the lights immediately turning on and momentarily blinding him. Hissing, he flinches, grabbing the metal pole with his hands and turning his face down. Shiro listens to the heavy steps of the person as they go around the room, their breath labored and seeming to be murmuring to themselves. Blinking, Shiro let his gaze fall on the person just in time to see her sit heavily on the bed as her hood slowly revealed caramel hair that went to her middle back, tips curling inwards.
Her head was down, she seemed to stare at her hands, trembling slightly as they gripped her knees.
"You…"
He can see the slight flinch of her body when he speaks, but she soon goes completely lax — lifting her head slowly to stare at him with dead green eyes that spoke of a complete void. He remembered those eyes, the way she stared at him before boiling that alien to death and leaving him to a seemly endless torture session.
"You…" He growled at her, eyes flashing with disgust. "How could you—"
"You shouldn't have done that."
Her voice is a surprise.
"What happened there was your fault only. I only followed my orders. Should you have accepted and simply knocked him out or something of the like, he would only be tortured…" Her eyes turn away from him, green depths staring at the window. "At least he would be with his family now."
He sneers at her.
"And how would you know he has a family? Why do you care? You only followed your orders." He spits out, he's angry, how can he not be? The girl — she must be barely a teen! — is so incredibly hollow, with no will or self-respect. She only does what she was told to do, and it disgusts him. It disgusts him that someone of his own race does such things without even questioning!
The girl — the magician — turns away from him, hunching her small shoulders and bringing her legs close to her chest.
"I researched it. He was Slave XF-134, from the cleaning services of one of the lower generals. His kin worked in the same sector as him."
He has no reply to that.
Sighing, she stands and walks toward him, empty eyes never straying from his form.
"You are now assigned to me — but as you are my kin, I shall show you mercy." She stops a mere breath away from him, she's so small she can barely reach his chest. When she lifts her left hand, he can see that she has a small capsule with a pink glowing liquid. She inserts it into his prosthetic arm. "This should give you strength for your next fight. And make yourself a favor, wouldn't you." He stares at her, eyes hard and unforgiven — she doesn't seem to care. "Don't let them know you care."
"Why?"
"It'll be easier to blend in. You won't have another episodes like the one you had — make them think you like the blood as much as them. Keep your first strategy and do NOT stray away from it." She sighed, her face didn't change one bit though — completely and utterly void. "You are now my fighter, I will be the only one to punish you and command you other than Zarkon." She stops tinkering with his arm to look up at him and for a moment he thinks that he can see something in her gaze. "Don't die."
"Why do you care?"
"I don't."
They stand there, staring each other down, until she turns away letting her body fall to her bed.
"Call me Master when in front of others, if you wish to keep your initial plan — from when you saved your friend."
He feels surprise that she noticed his act. But he soon looks away toward the window — and Shiro fears. He fears for his future and his friends and for the lives he would no doubt take to guarantee his own survival.
He feels dirty.
•••
"You are being pathetic again."
The tall, white figure loomed over her. Feathers were all around the void they were in. They fell endlessly from a nonexistent sky, tiny glimpses of white falling around them.
She could hear a mighty roar from the distance — almost desperate, as if it wanted to reach her, as if it was calling for her.
"This is not you."
She sobbed — it's been so long since he had last been so mean to her! What did she do?!
"The right question isn't what you did, Sakura."
"Then what?!" She buried her face deeper into her hands. "What is it?"
A big hand petted her hair gently, lovingly.
"It's what you didn't do." She looked up, meeting lovely silver-purple orbs that reminded of the moon. "You have to wake up, Sakura. You can't keep hiding anymore."
•••
"You failed."
He stared at the familiar face above him, looking down at his form on the metal table with empty green eyes he came to be so familiar with in the last…months? Years? He didn't know.
"I don't know if I can get you out of this."
Shiro wanted to say that he didn't mind. That he was grateful that she even bothered to come to him — they've been together for so long, she was the only person there for him. Even though he was her slave by Galra rights, she didn't treat him like so — most likely because she didn't care for a slave, he joked to himself.
She frowned, a rare expression. But any expression on her was rare really.
"Master says today she will give me something back — something that was with my body when they first found me." She tilts her head. "I feel like that it's something I've been waiting for — it's something not necessarily needed, but it's part of what makes me…me."
Magic mumbo-jumbo. She liked to ramble about it when they were by themselves.
"You can hear me now, I know, even though you're very…high? That's your Earthling expression, right? Soon the medics will come to do whatever Haggar has ordered them to do. I think they want to update your prosthetic arm."
She was obviously being optimistic.
And it's not only my Earthling expression. He wants to tell her. It's yours too.
He looks at her young face, remembering all the bad and good moments they went through since he was put under her command.
If there is one thing I thank this wretched place for, is meeting you.
For a second, he can see the pain and fear that he knows she's feeling coming through the hollowness of her soul. For a short moment, he thinks that she is finally free of whatever spell that witch must have casted on her—but then it's gone. She's hollow, and cold and so sad to look at.
But he's still grateful.
It was nice meeting you, Sakura.
•••
"Five years have passed since your discovery. You are no longer a mere girl…" Haggar has her back to Sakura, touching a small chest that always rested on a small altar protected by the Witch's magic inside her office.
The place was dark, illuminated only by quintessence, stored in diverse objects or beings around the room. It had an horrid smell and was one of the largest room in the ship. Dark and foul, just like what the troops described her master.
"You are a woman now, a true witch with immense power — a great hold of any kind of magik, be it light or dark." The old witch turned towards her, the little chest now in hands. It was purple and protected by an intricate spell powered by raw quintessence. "When you first came to me, when I felt your call, I could see the potential in you — I knew you were the key for the Galra Empire's success." Hagar stopped in front of her, an arm's reach of distance. "When I found you, you had in your hands a key. A key made of your own soul — molded by your power to assist you, to guide you. But you had no experience to have it in your hands." The witch offered the key to her. "This key, it will only respond to you. It will respond to you and only you. It will lead us, the Galra Empire, to absolute power. Do you know why?"
Green eyes, empty of any soul, stared at the glaring eyes of the old witch.
"Why now?"
With a tilt of her head, Haggar smiled wickedly at the young woman.
"You have now enough ability and skill to grow on your own, to discover limits of your power that no kind of training and studying will ever do. And it seemed right — now that you're finally going to let go of your human puppet."
A cold feeling passes through Sakura — dread? Fear? She does not know but she doesn't like it one bit.
Haggar waves her hand and there is a small 'click' as the chest opens, revealing a small intricate key that shocks Sakura to her core.
The key was simple and cutesy, the stem was in gold, with only two key wards on its tip. The shoulder, the part connecting the bow to the stem, was a red crystal, circled by gold, and connecting to the pink circular bow of the key. The bow was made of a pink circular arch that went around a golden, eight pointed star, and the outer part of the pink arch had two small wings by its sides.
(It called for her.)
"You have the power to defeat Voltron." Haggar watches her attentively, glowing eyes glinting with delight at the way the young woman's eyes shine — no hollowness to been seen as the emerald orbs glinted with inner light like those of the stars. "You and your Soulstar, the soul that is powered by the undying stars, a raging supernova and a cold blackhole in its own — you will give us victory."
•••
Damnit, damnit, damnit!
Shiro struggled to keep his breath short and low, he couldn't afford to be heard. He was given a chance to escape, by a Galra nonetheless, and he couldn't waste it.
He only needed to turn this corridor and he would be right in front of the escape pod, and then, with the coordinates given by Ulaz, he would be able to go home.
He would warn his comrades and they were going to…
Shaking his head, Shiro let those thoughts drift away. He couldn't waste time thinking about the future, he needed to concentrate on the now. Suddenly, he hears footsteps approaching and quickly ducks behind one of the pillars, watching as two armed droids pass, going towards the opposite direction he was supposed to go. Carefully, he walked out of the corridor, watching their backs with dread.
He doesn't notice the cart.
The loud sound of the containers as they fall to the ground are the worst thing Shiro has ever heard — in that moment, he is so unbelievingly scared.
Not looking back, he runs towards the escape pod, sliding to a stop in front of its door and clicks the right buttons for it to open. One of the droids comes behind him but he manages to throw it over his shoulder. The other one grabs him from behind and for a moment he thinks that that's it — it's over for him.
But then the air shimmers in front of him — the scent of gasoline he now knows to associate with Sakura's dark magic tricks — and with a crackle of purple lighting, there she is. Beautiful, young Sakura, with her hood down and hand open and extended towards the droid's head. It goes lax in a matter of seconds, and Shiro can not hold himself anymore. But she's there to catch him, falling to the ground with him, holding his head to her shoulder and looking into his eyes with the most lively expression he has ever seen on her face.
Her green orbs are emeralds, he thinks. So full of life, so bright.
And then an explosion occurs and they are blown away by its strength. His head collides with the pod's floor, and the last thing he sees is Sakura's body falling heavily besides his before his sight goes black.
•••
"How does it feel?"
She was laying onto something — feathers, she guessed. She felt light, happy even.
"How is it? To be able to feel again? To have your soul to yourself?"
Full. Full and…comfy. Like coming home after a long travel, and laying on your bed.
"Your body was empty for far too long, Sakura."
It was indeed strange — unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.
"You must reconnect with your true self. Sakura," The voice, the same of the white moon man of her dreams, the one who was so mean to her — this time he is kind. He sounds in love. "Open your eyes."
"I'm afraid of the darkness…" She frowns, remembering the dark teachings of her master. "Of what it has done to me."
"You mustn't be afraid of the darkness." He is gentle and confident. A guide and a protector. "You were always surrounded by light, but destined to know both light and darkness. Your Master Haggar was only but one more step for you to discover your own way."
At the distance, she could feel warmth. A roar echoed.
"Your soul is not light or darkness — it is but a star." She could feel him kneeling by her side, long fingers grabbing her hair. "Now…open your eyes."
And she saw the sky, the universe with its infinite stars, suns, moons and galaxies and worlds — all within her reach.
•••
A/N: And that's a wrap. Here it is the prologue of my new project that I really shouldn't be doing, but hey! I had so much fun brainstorming for this little piece of craziness.
For those of you who have read Scorpinac's story, nope. This ain't going the same way Scorpinac's did. And yeah, I will be really late for updating this. But I asked him to write this, and he said he was fine with it, so I at least wanted to give him this bit that I wrote?
On regard of you guys who follow my other works, no, I won't be updating them so early. This here took days, weeks actually, to go over. And that's because I've just watched Voltron, and really needed to get this outta me.
~Mari
