So here's hoping this takes off decently ^^" I hope my character isn't too Sue-ish, and that she fits in okay with the rest of the group. This story will mainly follow the original plot, aside from a few tweaks and the added side worlds.

I hope I do the series's characters justice and that you enjoy the addition of my character ^o^

00 - Beginning

She barely even recognised the sound of her own voice as the scream tore from her throat. The image of the past ten minutes were still very much fresh in her mind, every second - every sight, every sound - bringing more and more panic within her. It seeped into her very core, her mind forming a single coherent thought.

He's dead.

All around she could hear the cheers of the crowd, horrified as their roars increased with each second longer her shrieks lasted. She couldn't stop staring at the blood, barely registering the feel of the hands grabbing at her. Tugging at her feathers. Pulling at her hair.

This is wrong.

She tested her restraints, the golden ring, embedded with those aquamarines that resembled his eyes so much - a gift from him - suddenly too tight on her ring finger. If she timed it right, she could escape. She could run, perhaps find a new country to settle in. Surely the land of Archiva wouldn't miss her, especially with so many Bellatoran's running around. Her kind wasn't wanted- Wasn't needed anymore.

Why did he have to die?

Her brother would be rolling in his grave if he knew what she was going to do, she told herself. She watched as his body was dragged away from the crowd, the result of his public execution barely even hidden from the rowdy crowd. Everywhere was bloody, staining his hair, his clothes, his skin. It was wrong.

Why did he have to suffer for her crime?

She watched, ignorant to the scratches left on her arms and legs and even her face, as they gracelessly threw his body to the ground. Right in the middle of the crowd. She could barely even hold back her rage as he was suddenly lifted by a portion of the crowd, a pike at the ready as a particularly loud man lifted his head and held it up by bloodstained blonde hair. She screamed at him, called him disrespectful, but was ultimately shouted at by the crowd as she was dragged, kicking and screaming, onto the stage. Her bare feet landed in his blood. The sword was raised as her knees were kicked out from behind her.

Something had to be done.

She fell to her knees, a rough hand grabbing the back of her neck and forcing her view towards his head; she watched in horror as the beautiful face she'd once seen each and every day since his arrival was impaled upon the spike, then raised high into the air as the crowd demanded more blood.

Something had to be done NOW.

Before she could stop herself, instincts took over. The magical power she'd grown so used to forcing down, choking back in monk-like patience, was let loose. Sparks flew from her fingers, the hand holding her throat suddenly flying from her. Beneath her feet, the ancient words of her people circled around her - mixing in with his blood. She'd long since forgotten how to read them, but had a general idea of what they were going to do: Kill. Kill everyone who'd come to watch the execution of herself and her lover.

The sword in the air swung down, intending to decapitate her; just as it was about to come in contact with the skin of her neck, she screamed once more - this time with determination, a goal to sound intimidating. Her people once represented death, back in warring times. Death, knowledge, and predatory instinct. The people who had taken her ancestors' land had forgotten this.

It was time to remind them.

A shockwave was released from the circle, the words rising from the ground. They circled her, spinning at unreadable speeds, until finally her vision turned foggy. She was unable to see the outcome of what she'd released - unable to see her revenge with a sense of satisfaction. The power was too much. The power was too demanding.

She needed to run.

Her vision turned white, all sounds gone and all sights missing. The smell of blood clung to her like a leech, curdling her stomach and bringing the taste of bile to her throat. The ring on her finger, once too tight, now felt loose enough to fall off at any second. She clenched her hands tightly, doing everything in her power to keep that ring on, and waited for the white to fade back into the dull grey that was her fate. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't know what awaited her. But one thing was crystal clear in her mind as her lover's death replayed over and over again in her memory.

She needed a new purpose.

"...ing for our last guest."

The whiteness was beginning to fade, vision returning in colours - colours she'd never known she'd miss in such a short time. It was colder, too cold for her bare feet, and wet. Rain, she told herself. It'd been a while since she'd last felt raindrops on her skin, but she knew the feeling all too well.

She tightly shut her eyes as soon as her vision became vaguely coherent, scared of what she'd see. She didn't want to see anymore blood, and she didn't want to see anymore Bellatorans.

"Greetings."

She jumped at the voice, belonging to a woman she'd never heard before. The word sounded confident, yet with an air of mystery. She inclined her head toward the voice, but refused to open her eyes.

"Hello," she said quietly. Her throat hurt, the toll of all her screams coming into effect. She rubbed her throat lightly and waited for a response. None came. "Where am I?"

"You're in Japan," the woman's voice replied, once again confident. She wondered who she was talking to, but held back her question to let the woman go on. "For you to be here, it is assumed that you - like the three travelers beside you - have a wish you want me to grant."

A wish... A land called Japan... She remembered hearing of such things, back in her childhood. So, so many years ago...

"Dimensional Witch," she muttered. An amused hum came from the woman, the sound of movement toward her left.

"You know of me? Of my abilities?"

"You grant wishes in return for something precious. Your power is all my people talk about nowadays."

There was a pause as she waited for a confirmation, but when none came, she announced, "I want to make a wish."

The woman let out another hum, this one encouraging her to go on. She let the thought sink in - she could wish for anything right now - as the possibilities were weighed; she had to choose her wish wisely, as she could end up only hindering herself with a foolish wish. She needed to figure out what her purpose would be.

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out to the Witch, "I wish to find a new purpose in life - a reason to continue existing."

Silence followed, the sound of shifting about coming from all around. The Witch had said there were four others, and from the amount of movement all around her, she assumed she'd appeared right in the middle of them. That may have been a bit rude of her, but in her defense, she'd been unknowing of where she'd end up - or even the state she'd arrive in. Frankly, she was surprised she'd managed to arrive in the Dimensional Witch's domain without passing out from exhaustion yet; it'd been so long since she'd cast two spells of such level, one after another.

"A curious wish, but not one that shall be turned away," the Witch told her. "However, much like the others, it is a difficult one. If paid separately, your wishes would be troublesome to grant. Together, however..." The Witch paused, and she could hear the smile in her voice. "The four of you all have the same wish."

To her left, a gruff voice questioned the Witch. To her right, a light, playful voice - so much like his - teasingly told the gruff one to silence himself. The Witch went on as though neither had said anything.

"You, child, want to go to different worlds to collect this girl's memories," she listed. "From a different world, you want to go back to your own. And you want to live in a world other than your own. And finally, you want to find a new reason to continue existing. Your intentions are different, but the means are the same; you have different reasons for why you want to go to different worlds. I cannot grant all four of your wishes, but if the four of you each give me a precious item, the four of you can go to different worlds."

Unconsciously, she tightened her left hand. The only thing she had to give, aside from her wings, was that ring - the one thing she had left of her lover aside from the blood coating the soles of her feet and the skin of her knees.

The gruff voice was quick to speak up, the man obviously eager to have the power to travel between worlds. "What do I have to give you?" he demanded.

The Witch hardly skipped a beat, telling him, "That sword."

She opened her eyes slowly, curiosity taking over as the loud man yelled at the Witch. She glanced to her left once her eyes opened fully, ignoring the Witch's form before the group, and took in the appearance of the gruff man beside her. He was dressed entirely in black, even to the hints of armour that showed beneath his cloak. She noticed a few spots of red on his, complimenting his red eyes, and quickly brought her vision toward the sword resting on his shoulder. It was gorgeous, perhaps having seen many battles, and she instantly understood appearance-wise why this man refused to give the Witch his sword.

The Witch was quick to taunt him, calling him a term she'd never heard before - (what was a "cosplayer"? How did he resemble one?) - and throwing around terms she vaguely knew the meaning behind. "Police" must've been their equivalent to guards in Japan; "television" sounded like it delivered news, much like the papers that the royals read every morning. She shuddered at the thought of watching that barbarian reading each and every day, just hours before she was mistreated and belittled, and how she'd count every word his eyes passed until the very last page.

The gruff man eventually agreed after the light-voiced man confirmed that the Witch was the only one with the power to take him to another world. He growled, sheathing his sword, and thrust it violently toward the Witch. She was barely fazed as she he announced that once his curse ended, he would return for it; she merely took it without a word, and quickly turned for the light-voiced man.

She directed her gaze to him next, wondering who he was and why he sounded so alike to him, only to be caught off-guard and almost screaming upon the sight of him. She silenced herself as the Witch demanded the man's tattoo, stunned as he asked if his staff wasn't worth more. This man looked so much like him - a carbon copy of her lover. Aside from the clothing - which, to her surprise, even followed the very colour scheme her lover dressed in - he was exactly alike to him; even his hair was parted to the right, just as he always did it.

The copy eventually gave in, letting the Witch take his tattoo. The Witch turned to her then, directing the group's attention onto her. She locked eyes with the copy, surely having a deer-in-the-headlights expression written all over her face, and quickly looked to the Witch for her price.

The Witch pointed to her left hand, and she began to panic. She was hoping she'd want her wings, given how important they were for every Archivis in existence. To her dismay, however, the Witch looked her dead in the eye and announced, "Your ring."

Frustrated, but too drained of energy to fight - to reason with the Witch - she tore the ring from her finger and threw it furiously to the ground. She ground her teeth together, biting back any words that would anger the witch, and waited patiently for the woman to pick the piece of jewelry up from the muddy ground. The Witch made no comment, thankfully, and moved on to the final traveler - the child, if she recalled.

She glanced to him, spotting the girl in his arms before anything else. She looked a little pale, as though something had weakened her, but she couldn't figure out what. The Witch questioned the boy holding the girl - both were quite young, she noted, barely into adulthood from the looks of them - and the boy agreed to her terms, barely even having heard his own price. She would've applauded him for his dedication, had she known the extent of the two children's circumstances.

As the boy agreed to accept whatever price the Witch demanded, someone emerged from the building behind the Witch. He looked slightly older than the boy and the girl, glasses perched on his nose and what appeared to be a uniform covering him. In his arms were two rabbit-like creatures, one white and one black, and both with what appeared to be a gemstone on their foreheads. He handed one to the Witch - the white one - and the Witch began to explain what the creature could do. Its name was Mokona Modoki, and it possessed the power to take the four - five, that girl still counted - of them to different dimensions. "Mokona can take you to different dimensions," the Witch told the foursome, "but he cannot control where you land. Your wish coming true will be based on pure luck." She held the white creature out towards the group, continuing, "But there is no such thing as coincidence in this world, only destiny. You were all destined to meet." She turned her gaze to the boy, her face unreadable.

"Syaoran," the Witch said. "Your payment is your relationship. Your most precious thing is your relationship with that girl, so I shall take it." The boy - Syaoran - questioned what the Witch meant. She was quick to answer, "Even if she finds her feathers and gets all of her memories back, you will not have the same relationship with her. Whatever you share with her, upon using Mokona, will disappear. Even if you were to return all of her memories, anything regarding you won't return - that is your price."

Syaoran looked horrified - she knew for a fact that she'd had the near-identical expression just hours earlier, upon hearing the news that two executions would take place instead of one. The price must've been hard for the boy; his face said so many words about what would be lost if the girl forgot him.

"Do you still accept," the Witch asked.

The boy barely even hesitated in his reply. "Yes," he said. "I refuse to let Sakura die."

The Witch nodded, understanding, and warned Syaoran of the dangers of traveling to other worlds - the Witch even used the rest of the group as an example, explaining that each one was from worlds of their own. She explained that the people Syaoran may know in his world would have different lives in other worlds, and it all clicked into place for her. That was why the copy looked so much like him- he must've been another version of him. It made so much sense, but still remained unnerving.

The Witch explained the kinds of worlds they'd pass through, asking if Syaoran was still up to the task, and he agreed with a determined, "Yes."

Pleased by his answer, the Witch held Mokona just that little bit higher, the small creature beginning to float on its own as a magic circle appeared underneath it. Wings, pure white and certainly larger than itself, sprouted from behind it, and its tiny mouth opened to almost the size of its entire stomach. She watched in awe as air rushed into the mouth, and took in a deep breath of her own as she felt herself behind pulled into Mokona's mouth. She shielded her eyes, unsure of what to do other than just stay still, and was quick to lose consciousness as she felt the familiar whiteness encase her.

Again, I hope you enjoy the fic and that each character is in character ^.^ Till the next chapter~