In my final moments, my lives passed in my mind's eyes. Of things that had been, always would be, and yet, my breath draws out and I know somehow we failed, some great thing that destiny decided we were unworthy of.
And yet, I was proud. Energy billowing out of the crevices of the dark palace, a Queen's screaming wrath and her minions sending forth their energies over us. I was the last one to stand and I was the last one to fall.
And in doing so, I have seen a future brilliantly sculpted. From a meager path, maybe I will return. I struggle to take a lasting breath and despite the smoky air, I remember the clean skies of my home, a brilliant blue sky as if God himself had painted it in His own whimsy.
The pain kept me from fainting as I looked back on how all of this began, of a destiny I had foolishly thought I could handle. A path that led me to others like myself. We were senshi, Sailor Senshi of the broken worlds that now float as rocky debris. How we were still surviving without a star, it should've been a clue that we weren't not as invincible as we had hoped we would be.
It began by a talking cat. And his words of wisdom that the path destined for me would not be as easy as being a teenager. Of course, I was still full of myself, thinking like all younger generations that I was powerful, that I would do great things. And thus, my story begins at the turn of summer in 1991, when strange and horrific things began in my tiny town of Silver Falls, Ohio.
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The warm summer air picked up gently, breezing along the small lake as the willowy girl stood at the water's edge, watching the ripples cup gently at the sandy earth. Her dark brunette hair was stylized in a fluffed bob cut, two curved strands falling away to form into meager bangs. Wide apple green eyes shown with a warm light, the sunlight causing them to glitter like stars, lighting the color to yellow green. She was a slight girl, very delicate and curved gently, just on the cusp of becoming a woman. Small framed glasses perched on her nose, hiding her eyes only slightly before she took them off, just for a moment to stare at the swirling colors, of a scene blended to mold into a dreamy realm.
"Wendy? Hey, Wendy!" Her father drove up in a beaten truck, once a glorious black shade but now sun beaten gray, the paint cracking and chipping away. The man was tall and lanky, an older version of his daughter with fading brunette hair combed over to hide his ever growing bald spot and crinkled apple green eyes. His face was weathered with laugh lines and crows feet, giving him the impression of being older than he is.
Dressed in filthy, oily, torn shirt and just as dirty faded blue jeans, he gave a wave and grinned. "Come on, honey! Time to go home!"
She placed her glasses back on, her eyes wistful for just a moment before grinning back at her dad.
"It's your day off! Let's go into town and get a bite to eat!" She exclaimed eagerly.
He gave a thumbs up. "Absolutely! But let me get cleaned first!" He added laughing.
She climbed in with practiced ease, as he gunned the poor engine and wheeled out of the dirt path onto the cement road.
"So what are you going to do this summer?" He asked over the galloping wind that flew from the open windows.
"Don't know!" Wendy shouted, shaking her head. "Thinking of going to the Y to see what programs they have!"
"We have a Y?" He asked, chuckling. "This is a hick town, honey. We ain't got no thing to do but watch the cows moo!"
"Come on Dad! I want to do something different!"
"Then so be it!" He reached over and ruffled her hair with a glancing loving stare. "Whatever you want, you go right on ahead!"
She grinned and looked out the window, the smile dimming. She didn't know what she wanted to do. It was strange because she was always so sure of what she wanted and where she needed to be. But since the beginning of the season, with the air warming and the earth growing with brilliant shades of green, her heart ached in a unknown pain.
They arrived home and soon took taking care of the farm animals. She danced around the chickens, tossing their feed and watching them peck, clucking reproach as if she was insulting them by her dancing. She smirked and put the container on the shelf, where a basket lay for the morning, when she'd go out and pluck eggs from them, always still getting the agitated clucks of disproval.
She went to help her father with the horses and found him talking to a newcomer.
"It's a sick thing and I didn't know what to do," the woman said tearfully. "I think some foolish monster hit it and ran. I wasn't even sure it was alive until it moved when I was just but five feet away."
Wrapped in a dingy flannel blanket, a dark violet, long haired cat lay almost comatose. It had a filthy band aid on its brow and a tiny paw, with tufts of hair from between the toes peeking out, lay limp in view.
"Papa?"
It's eyes opened at her voice, a shimmering true blue. They were slits at first before widening in almost surprise before giving a weak meow.
"That's the spirit," her father spoke to the cat. "Keep that spirit strong."
"Thank you so much, Mr..."
"Mr. Peters," He nodded to his back. "My daughter, Wendy."
"Hello." Seeing the small charge under safe hands, she left and her father got to work instantly. Wendy stayed and helped him for the next few hours. He had to reset a front leg and a crink in the tip of the tail, though the elegantly fluffed appendage didn't look at all broken. In the simple course of examination, it was revealed to be a boy. Her father attempted to get off the band aid but it seemed glued to his forehead.
"Some punk probably thought it'd be fun to harrass this poor animal," Mr. Peters muttered darkly. He sighed. "We've done what we can. I think he just needs a quiet place and time to heal."
She put the cat in her room, hidden between her drawer and mirror stand, with a fluffy blanket in a good sized folded box. "You just rest now," she told it gently.
It gave a weak meow, the eyes opening to stare into her. She tilted her head, feeling as if he wanted something from her. The eyes had a sad gleam and she reached out carefully, feeling the silky hair between her fingers. Her fingers brushed the band aid and carefully pulled it.
After seeing her father trying to get it off, she was stunned when it just slipped off. And what's more, the feline had been hiding a symbol, a golden crescent moon nearly hidden in the long hairs. She had gasped and stared for a long time.
And from there, she would realize that her destiny was spiraling from her.
And from that moment, the nightmares began. She almost didn't remember them, only flashes of night terrors, of her trying to wake up to run from whatever haunted her. Her father came many times to her room, to shake her and hold her, trying to assuage her fears and listen to her babbling words. None of which made any sense to him, the feline lay in seclusion, its eyes shining in the dark night with watery tears. He had known and understood and soon, very soon, set upon the path he had been given.
Wendy fiddled with the wrench, trying to lure the bolt off to get the belt off the car. The engine had long since been broken down and she was finally getting to the car. She was dressed in old clothes, a tattered rainbow layered shirt and blue overalls.
"Wendy? It's getting late," Mr. Porter nodded. An old man with a crooked back, his old decrepit figure hid the brilliant mind. He wouldn't admit he was getting on in years but was finally convinced to let Wendy at least volunteer. He hadn't liked having a girl work for him, being a bit traditional but seeing how well she was under a car, he changed his tune rapidly. "Time for supper."
"Already?" She pushed herself out, blinking at the old man. "Aww.."
He guffawed. "Come on, girl, get on home before your Pa gets thinking I'm keeping you hostage!"
She snorted. "Oh, he doesn't care!"
She heard a familiar honk. "Dad!" She groused, stomping out. He grinned at her without remorse.
"I was getting more cat food," he offered as an explanation. "Why can't I pick my baby up?"
She rolled her eyes. "I'm fourteen, Dad. I'm not a baby!" She crossed her arms.
"You have and always will be Daddy's baby. Now get your butt in and get to dinner. I had to turn off all cookware so I don't burn the house down," He stuck his tongue at her. "As if I weren't responsible."
She smirked at him. She had accidentally left a stovetop blazing and the kitchen was nearly wiped out. He never let her live it down, not to mention she almost never saw the day of light for at least three weeks.
He took a different path this time, a slightly longer route to home. "Uh, Dad?"
"Oh, yea. I got a call a while ago about a family who found some puppies and the mom. I told them I'd be by to pick them up."
There was nearly no homes along the sprawling plains until a large place began to loom in the airspace. It was a two story home, widely built and rather flat. It was a new home, by the still bright colored paint and the look of cleanliness.
Mr. Peters got out and gestured to his daughter. "I'm filthy!" She protested.
He rolled his eyes. "Get on out and be hospitable."
She dragged herself out as a tall, well-rounded young man lumbered out. With big clanking feet, slender spider fingers, and a general look of awkward written all over his figure, his boyish smile threw all of that away as his purple eyes received that magnet smile. "Hello, Dr. Peters right?" He pushed back a set of wild black curls, of hair that wasn't short enough to stay still but not long enough to be feminine.
"Yes," they shook hands properly.
"My sister actually found the litter. There's three and one that looks deceased. The mother hovers around them and growls at me but won't do anything about my sister when she approaches."
"Ah." During this time, the man lead to the back.
"Oh, I'm Henry Helen by the way," he added, chuckling. "I've seen you around for a while."
"We moved here around, what honey, two years or so?"
"Yes," she answered, her voice clipped. His eyes softened before turning to the girl who walked carefully toward them.
"Lilly!" He grinned and presented his sister. "Lillian Helen, future attorney at law."
"I should sue you for that," she raised a carefully groomed eyebrow.
"Yes but you know all of what I'm worth," he retorted, a big silly grin on his face.
"You mean that stash of yours under the floorboard under the shoes in your closet?" She asked innocently.
He looked momentarily taken back before shaking his head. "How you know these things is going to be the best mystery anyone can solve!"
"Anyways," Lillian stared at Wendy for a moment before turning to her father. The girl's long, black curls fell down in layers, curling every which way, giving her a rather tumbled look. Her clear purple eyes showed nothing but interest about the mother and pups. Wendy noted the well-roundness of the girl, the meat packed on carefully, giving the other girl a more adult look and a good eight figure.
"See?" They were dutifully lead to the small corner far in the back of the yard. The mother glared at her, as if berating her by bringing unwanted guests. "Shh, girl, he's here to help you out."
The dog turned her glare onto Mr. Peters though with his soft voice and gentle touch soon had her won over.
"She's tame and has a collar on. Must've run away and decided to have a bit of fun," he smiled genially.
Wendy was in the far back, careful not to get too close. But her fingers went to her pocket, checking just in case.
"What are you looking for?" Lillian asked curiously, standing nearest to her, having moved while Wendy's father did his work.
"My inhaler," Wendy said sheepishly. "So many things set me off, I like to be prepared."
"Ah.." They watched the doctor begin to check the puppies. He very gently and kindly removed a still puppy, placing it on the dirty towel offered by Henry.
"So do you have any pets yourself?" Wendy asked finally.
"No, I never could find time. Not that I wanted one, actually. Animals are all right but I always feel angry at them, for no reason at all." Lillian shrugged. "You?"
"My father's letting me keep a small cat he got from a kind person. The cat had been hit by a car but the injuries sustained weren't all that bad. But the most bizarre thing, he has a crescent moon on his forehead."
Lillian's eyes coolly studied the other girl. "I didn't take you for someone who still believed in things like the fantasy," she said smoothly. "If you don't have a pet, just say so, don't make it up."
Wendy frowned. "I'm not making it up!"
"Wendy?" Mr. Peters looked up, a frown blossoming. "What's wrong?"
"I have a pet and it has a crescent moon on it's forehead!"
"She does," Mr. Peters nodded. "Probably tattooed on by some idiots. The torture the poor thing went through." He resumed his treatment of the small family.
"Hm.. I'd like to see it," Lillian proposed.
"Only because you don't believe I or my father!" Wendy said hotly. "So the answer's no!"
And she moved away, done with the other girl. "Need help, Dad?"
"The collar has a number on it, could we use a phone to call the owners?" He asked Henry.
"Sure but let me do it. We found the dog, it's our responsibility."
It didn't take long for the owners to get to the home. It was, after all, a tiny town. A elderly man limped out on a carefully engraved cane, the thick end on the top as it petered out. Another man in his mid-thirties was talking engagingly to the girl at his side. All of them has stark crimson red hair, one nearly thinned out, another thinning out, and the last with her hair pulled into a left fashioned pigtail, ending with a twist. All of their eyes were lilac, a startling shade that gave them almost inhumane gazes.
The girl was the only one with freckles liberally spread across her cheekbones and nose, a rosy smile with pink cheeks as she gave a shout.
"Oh, Look, Pa! It's our darling Babe! Looky too, she's got herself some kits!"
The man nearly tripped. "Say what, Lass?"
"Oh, me dear, it's a bit of a fun, now didn't it have?" The elderly man had a booming laugh. "Course it'd head out to live it up. She's a beaut about it, all the same."
"Dad," the man shook his head.
"Oh but Pa, the youngsters can have themselves a pet," the red-headed girl pointed out.
He sighed tiredly. "Oh, what a mess."
"She must've been gone a long time," Mr. Peters began.
"Aye, that she was," he rubbed his face. "Mack Marcail, Jr. This is Mack Marcail Sr." He waved at the other man who nodded. "We be thinking she went outta town since no one say a word or respond to any of the posters."
"A bit of a miracle," Lillian noted.
"A bit, yea!" The girl grinned. "Always gonna come a trekking back to where the grub is, aye Pa?"
He was lifting the dog carefully. "Come on, Bonnie, let's get them pups into the car."
They were stunned by the rather large caravan, a fancy breed of a car. "You don't look rich," Wendy blurted.
The girl, Bonnie, chuckled. "Oh, I know but we don't let it all get to us and our heads. We stay family-bound."
"That's always a nice thing," Mr. Peters went to talk to the Marcail men. Henry retreated into the house as the three girls stared at each other.
"A sense of deja vu, no?" Lillian flipped as black curl over her shoulder.
"Ah.." Bonnie's eyes grew misty, looking up with a dreamy gaze. "It will be a splendid time. This is the summer for it all."
"I don't look forward to it at all," Wendy surprised herself, talking flatly about something she normally was so eager about. "I mean, doesn't it seem as if something massive is about to happen?"
There was a silence, prolonged. The looks on the three were a mixture of agreement, confusion, and fear. Something that linked them to the other without explanation or understanding.
"Oh dear, I hope the pups will be all right," Bonnie sighed. Her grandfather called her and with a goodbye tossed carelessly over a shoulder, she ran off to head home.
"Nice meeting you," Wendy told Lillian, though she couldn't be completely sure of that. Lillian looked like she could say the same thing though she nodded politely.
The two drove home in silence. Mr. Peters looked pensively at his daughter but wisely said nothing.
She made her way to her room and peeked at the bedding only to find it empty. "Kitty? Kitty!"
She turned and found him sitting on the bed, looking around in daze and confusion.
"Here, Kitty, Kitty," she called soothingly.
He turned to fix his blue eyes at her. "My name is Helius, girl." He looked mildly irritated. "Tell me, where am I?"
Her scream hit the wall and caused her father to nearly break the door. "What?! What's wrong?"
"HE TALKED!" She shrieked, jutting a finger wildly.
"Honey, love, precious.." He trailed off. "Cats cannot talk. You must be stressed a bit, why not take a nap?" He offered. He left, carefully closing the abused door.
"That was fun. Please, next time scream a little louder, I can still hear." Helius stretched. "I am here for you, Wendy Peters. And two others as well."
"For what?" Wendy asked in a thin voice.
His eyes flickered before he frowned. "For...um... to be protectors," he finished lamely, unable to truly say what he knew, for the words refused to tell him the truth. He figured he'd worry about it later.
"Come again?"
"Listen, do you know what happened to me?" Helius looked pitiful, rubbing his paw on his head in a rather human attempt of confusion and trying to fix the fuddle it was in. "I don't remember anything but bright lights."
"You were hit by a car," responded Wendy.
"I was?"
"Yes."
There was a moment of silence. "I'm going to my father now. When I come back, this will have been nothing more than a moment of insanity. How it was brought on.." She was mumbling at this point as she made for the door.
"Please!" His voice cracked. "I.. I know it's something important! Here!"
He jumped off the bed less than gracefully before closing his eye in concentration. With a perfect back flip, a quick swirl of night colored energy that turned to tuscan red as it faded out, a pen fell down onto the floor.
"What.. is that?"
"It is your transformation pen."
"My what?"
"Take it," Helius nudged it.
Wendy was fidgeting but picked it up at a moment's hesitation. "It's... not clickable."
"Of course not, it's something else entirely!" He had resettled on the bed. "Say this words, Vulcan Power, Make Up!"
"Vulcan..." The pen turned hot in her hand, fire spreading through her system wildly and rapidly. "Power!" It was raised higher in the air as her voice grew in strengthen tune. "Make Up!"
It was a world, a moments glance into a nightmare familiar to her that showed a peaceful scene, a hot summer world and a single thread of light that stretched across the Heavens.
She opened her eyes slowly. Her tiara was yellow with an oval Tuscan red orb. Her earrings were round Tuscan red studs with dangling Tuscan red diamonds. Her choker was white, her collar Tuscan red with a single white stripe. Her front and back bows were white. Her brooch was Tuscan red and round. Her gloves reached her elbow, were white with three Tuscan red bands. Her skirt was Tuscan red. Her shoes were Tuscan red heels with white, high collars that covered her ankles.
She reached into a compartment from her dresser, where she stashed any miscellaneous things. She pulled out a mirror compact, taking an involuntary gasp of shock at the strange garment on.
"I don't understand," her head came up. "What am I?"
"You are a warrior, a protector! A Sailor Senshi of a Planet Lore, the world of Vulcan! Wendy! You are Sailor Vulcan!"
His voice rang out with truth and it struck her then. A sense of satisfaction, of warmth, and gladness. And a sadness. A summer for it all, a summer that would bring her closer to who she truly was.
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Oh, how I should've listened to those thoughts, tried harder to remember my nightmares, and understood better those emotions. To think of a fate like ours, we did as we should have and yet, in the eyes of the enemy, we lost.
But we stood tall in the Hell's battle and shown our colors of faith and loyalty. We may have never been a part of something as individuals but we had a common goal. Of a beautiful world fallen and given a chance to revive. We won't let the enemy win, no matter the cost!
I lay alone now, the blackness coming closer to me. I don't know why I held on so long, what was tying me to a life fast fading. My allies were long gone and I truly wanted to rest. Just to sleep. As I listen to the morbid air, the noise muffled and drifting away, I continue to remincse, time slowing down as my mind fades away.