Between One Time and Another
Prequel to To Be A Lady
Day 1: Arrival
The path of light, swerving across the endless expanse of the fourth dimension, gave Rini a headache with its undiminishing brightness. Even so, as a pair of ethereal wings carried the young princess back to her own time, Rini kept her eyes firmly on the point in the horizon where the path of light converged with the smoky golden sky—for that was Pluto's last order on every journey through time: "Fix your eyes on the path of light and do not let your gaze stray."
The path was an iridescent beam, a road colorful, broad, and translucent. Illuminated by ever-changing colors, it swerved over an expanse of water. Through the path of light, Rini could see the distorted image of waves surging below, white capped in the wind. The wind snatched Rini's ponytails around her face. It snatched away the tears she'd leaked in the first minutes of her journey. Rini preferred fast goodbyes, but that didn't mean goodbye came easily.
When the sky scooped her up Rini had turned her head at the last minute, for one last glimpse of Serena, whose lonely expression haunted the first miles of Rini's journey. It worried Rini to leave Bunny so soon after Darien's departure. Her mother the Queen was like a white marble statue—calm and unmoved, even under duress—but her mother/sister/friend Bunny, under the pressure of strong emotions, could crack as easily as an eggshell. Yet Rini trusted the scouts to protect their princess, and it had been time to return home.
"You doing okay, Diana?" she murmured over her shoulder to the knapsack. A muffled, groaning meow signaled that her companion (who was afraid of heights and prone to motion sickness) was at least holding up well.
In the distance, the path of light faded and gave way to a pair of ornate doors, black and gold. They loomed, a black mark against the sky, which had faded from smoky gold to dusky purple as Rini flew. The water receded into shore, into a solid ground and lavender smoke.
Her patent shoes scuffed against the ground as she touched in for her landing. Sailor Pluto had not yet emerged, so Rini took a careful moment to rearrange her skirt, which had grown lopsided in flight. She shrugged the knapsack from her back and placed it on the ground, allowing the drawstring to loosen. Diana squeezed out of the bundle, with a slight list and a soft mewl. Rini lifted her friend, cuddling the weary traveler close to her heart. "We made it! Almost home!" she whispered encouragingly.
Rini glanced around the domain of the Guardian of Time. Sailor Pluto's responsibilities sometimes called her within one cloud of the Timestream or another—the dense fog that permeated this place held many dimensions. It was not unusual for Pluto to be unseen at the gate, though she never truly left. It was best to wait a moment. A single stone pillar, which Pluto sometimes used as a perch, was the sole decoration, aside from the grand doors. Rini let Diana set upon this pillar as she poked around, scanning the fog for Pluto's willowy silhouette. The roar of the fog sounded akin to ocean waves—this noise, and the vastness of the space, left Rini with a feeling of peace and utter smallness. "Pluto?" she called out. Her voice echoed. "PUU! We're back!"
Rini yelped as, far above, a forked lightning bolt cracked across the sky. Soon, several other bolts followed, and in the midst of the electricity knelt the shadow of Sailor Pluto.
"Pluto!" Rini ran forward as the lightning faded away. Her friend's face lifted, and garnet eyes lit up at the voice.
"Small Lady. Welcome home." The Guardian rose, enveloping Rini in a crushing embrace. Rini closed her eyes, relishing the familiar smell of her friend—eucalyptus and lemon and mint, fresh and light. They parted and Pluto rose to her full height, towering above the pink-haired princess. The two scouts walked to the Time Gate. Pluto took Diana into her arms as greeting, scratching behind her tawny ears. She regarded Rini with great interest. "You've grown tremendously," she offered. "There's something different in the way you carry yourself."
"She's a true warrior now!" Diana mewed proudly.
Rini laughed nervously, almost doubting the words. "Thanks, Pluto. Where were you?" Rini asked. She jerked a thumb to where the lightning had struck moments before. "I've never seen you travel that way," she commented.
Sailor Pluto pursed her lips in consideration of the response. "I was in consultation with Chronos," she said finally.
"You mean…the Chronos?" Rini's eyes were like two big red apples. "As in, the all knowing God of Time?"
"Yes. My father."
Rini's jaw dropped, and Diana's followed. "I didn't realize you could actually contact him."
"Chronos is your father?!" Diana squirmed in Rini's arms. "Why, then you're a princess too, Pluto! Maybe even a goddess!"
Pluto waved away Diana's comments with a light, graceful hand. "I am a guardian. Chronos and I are in charge of the 4th Dimension. What I am able to accomplish in my role is only through the powers he grants me," Pluto responded patiently. "I do not see him often, and when I do, it is for matters of great importance."
Rini's eyes narrowed. "Is everything alright?"
Sailor Pluto tilted her head, blinked slowly at the Princess. "Yes, little one," she soothed, "all is well." Yet something in her tone was off. Rini knew Pluto well enough to know when she was lying.
Rini bit her lip—the Past gnawed at her heart. But she allowed the omission. "If you're sure." She hoisted the backpack up over her shoulder once more. "I want to share everything, Puu, but I need to see Papa and Mama first. I'll come back tomorrow, okay?" Sailor Pluto nodded, wine-colored eyes warm. She delivered Diana back into Rini's arms. In turn, Rini yanked the time travel key over her head, handing the key and the silver chain to Sailor Pluto with a nod. Pluto reattached the key to her hip belt with a low chink. Both approached the double doors. The Time Guardian retrieved her Garnet Rod from its place propped against the Gate. Sailor Pluto knelt, fisting one hand over her heart as the other curled around her weapon.
"It's good to have you home, Crown Princess Small Lady Serenity," she intoned. "May the star in your heart shine brightly to all you meet." Such was a formal goodbye in this time. Rini had almost forgotten the words.
"Shine brightly," Rini replied, in the shorthand. The words felt foreign and strange to her tongue. Rini flushed and bit her lip. "Look. Thanks, Puu, but you know you don't need to do that." She motioned for her friend to stand.
Pluto stood with a small chuckle. "You do realize that in this era, you are a princess? I must treat you as such."
Rini scowled. "Don't remind me." That was one part of the 30th Century she hadn't missed—the 'royal treatment'. Rini approached the Gate and pushed. The dull orange glow of twilight flooded the cracks in the door and soon Rini's vision was filled with the grand glimmering points of the Crystal Palace, cool and sharp against the fiery sky.
"It's beautiful!" Diana squeaked.
Rini beamed. "Diana, let's go home." Together, they set off down the cobblestone path, which would take them through the Juuban Park, past the school, through the Museum District, and straight to the front steps of the Crystal Palace.
Sailor Pluto rose, sighing as the Gates of Time closed once more. Having the final Time Key securely against her hip was a small comfort; nevertheless, Chronos' news disturbed her. Pluto held the Garnet Rod out to the endless fog and concentrated on the orb until it turned a glowing scarlet. She waved a regal arm towards the gray mists and summoned the Memories forward.
The Timestream, that elusive mist which permeated the Fourth Dimension, was a soup of memories and recollections that wove together as the history of the world. Pluto could bring forward bits and pieces of history and put them together as easily as some could put together slide show presentations (which Setsuna had done frequently, as a school nurse). Each memory—each snapshot of time—had that same foggy quality of an old photograph, flashed before your eyes with a hollow rustle before the carousel carried on to the next.
The slideshow she viewed now was barely believable, yet its effects were already carrying over into the present. Setsuna felt softness across her cheek like a bug or a falling autumn leaf. She looked to her feet, where a rose petal, wilted, had fallen. Frightened garnet eyes lifted from the fog's memory into the endless mist beyond.
The wind had begun to howl, to moan. Rose petals, carrying saccharine perfume, streaked across Sailor Pluto's arms, legs. A thin crack of lightning glowed within the distant mists. The storm would hold, for now. Chronos had said, when he gave her the certain Memory, that the effects on the 30th century would be delayed.
Sailor Pluto's eyes turned back to the scene in the memory cloud. The Prince and the Princess kissing. The Prince and Princess kissing in an airport, then parting. The Prince hands a small box to the Princess, steps back, and—Pluto fell to her knees.
In a burst of dust, the Prince had disappeared. A mysterious orange sailor scout squeezed the star seed of Earth's future king in her dry, bony fingers. Then three scouts—the Starlights, who weren't even supposed to be mentioned, much less seen, for another century—swooped in for Bunny.
"This cannot be," Pluto whispered in anguish.
The only response was the oceanic churn of the mist.
Helios gasped, golden eyes blinking wide awake to the ornate painting on his bedroom ceiling—in the dim light (it was just before dawn) the sun, moon, and stars were no more than black silhouettes. For the first time in one thousand years, the priest had suffered a nightmare.
He rose from the bed, gripping one of its posters as he caught his breath. He brushed away a ragged piece of white hair and pulled on a simple brown shirt with blue jeans (he'd swiped some clothing during his 'stay' in Tokyo, for the white robes were insufferably easy to tear or stain). He would tend to the horses and the roses first, and Morning Prayer followed after.
Through the balcony doors of the Elysian Monastery he could see the sun rising, splitting its rays across the steeple of the Chapel, which sat in the center of the glowing Golden Lake. The sky was a pleasing crisp lavender.
Helios sighed shakily, rubbing his palm against his forehead. One by one, the royal family had melted away in front of him, reaching out with decayed hands to the horrified priest. The death of Maiden was too much to bear, even in a dream—Helios awoke with her parting words framed in memory.
Helios, you were my every dream…
He gripped the stone balcony so hard that his knuckles turned white.
It had been now…900 years since the events of Dead Moon (yet barely a few months for Rini). He could feel through the soul bond that she had finally returned to her proper time. Would she be wondering after him? Helios had seen glimpses of Earth through dreams of its people, scattered wisps of memory. He knew that even as Dead Moon left, there came other enemies and allies—he'd seen the power of the Silver Crystal guide a meteor safely back to Earth with precious cargo; he'd seen the defeat of Snow Princess Kaguya; he'd seen Maiden kiss the cheek of a puny white-haired fairy. Over the past centuries, priesthood—to borrow phrasing from Earth—had been a spectator sport.
Helios shut the door to his bedroom silently (Daphne and Persephone, down the hall, were still asleep). He wound through the stone staircases and mural-walled chambers until reaching the Atrium, whose door led outside.
The sun was now blindingly bright, and Helios brought up an arm to shield his eyes as he crossed the distance to the rose garden, gathering a tin watering can along the way.
It took the entire share of morning chores—tending the roses, feeding the horses, milking the cows, sifting through new dreams in the Golden Mirror Lake, baking the holy bread—and most of breakfast (eaten in reverent silence with the shrine maidens) to convince Helios that nothing was wrong.
By the time he had donned his white robes and settled into his prayerful posture at the base of the Blue Fire, Helios had relaxed, and the dream had been resolved in his mind as a fluke nightmare—perhaps an offshoot of the King's anxiety. Whenever Maiden was in transit, the King barely slept. Helios folded his hands together, bowing his head low.
"Gaia, creator of Earth, whose spirit rests in the Golden Crystal, I call your name. Purify me as you have the Blue Fire. Sanctify me as you have Elysian. Reveal to us the path of light. Let us not fall away to darkness." Helios spoke these words in an ancient tongue, rhythmic and solemn. Ritual dictated that he repeat these words at the start of every prayer before offering specific petitions.
The fire glowed brighter and brighter blue. Suddenly, in a cascaded of popped sparks, the flames burst orange, and cast a wicked glow around the chamber. Helios gasped, falling backwards, shielding himself with one arm. The heat was almost unbearable.
The silhouette of a sailor scout, whose uniform was made entirely of jagged crystals, filled the flames. Fire danced around her, and her eyes were a sinister orange glow. The picture faded and gave way to a swirling vortex—colors and lights and star seeds thrown in one grand abyss.
There was a rushing sound, whistling throughout the throne room, and Helios realized that a great wind had overtaken Elysian. It blew open the door to the prayer cloister, and red rose petals scattered around the room, fading too quickly to black.
"The Prince has fallen."
The voice was cool, calm, somehow familiar, but from a bygone era. Yet Helios did not have time to ponder its owner, for Daphne had run into the temple, flower petals in her wild hair. Persephone followed, loosing an anguished cry that Helios had never before heard from the taciturn Shrine Maiden. He stood, staggered, reached out his hand to the Shrine Maidens…in shock he realized his hand, his arm, was gone, crumbling into dust. Helios choked, whirling around once more to face the Blue Fire. His disintegration was mirrored in the fire as it showed the death of the Prince, who crumbled just the same. Around them, the stone walls of the Chapel crumbled. A chunk fell on Daphne's back, and she fell limp as a rag. Persephone was in ugly shrieking tears until rubble knocked her down.
The Blue Fire vanished, leaving only a faint black smoke. His legs were gone, and so Helios fell too, succumbing to the dissolution of his body.
Prince…Princess…!
8 Acres East