A/N: So I have been incredibly busy with class work and studies. And I haven't had time to update any of my stories but I found myself writing this the other day and I decided to finish the prologue and share it tonight! It's an idea that's been floating in my head for a while, hopefully you all will enjoy it!

"Pain takes time to leave.

Healing doesn't happen overnight."

It was dark and it pressed in on her; the dark was endless like a tunnel or cave. Her gaze traveled around curiously and suspiciously, her senses were perked up and straining to detect a wrong hiding in the blackness.

Star's breath was suddenly caught in her throat and tears gathered at the rims of her eyes; they threatened to spill and tumble mercilessly. Her chest ached. Her gaze paused at something.

This couldn't be real, no. She was gone, wasn't she? Why was she seeing her?

She clenched and balled her hands anxiously. She trembled and her face was flushed in disbelief as her wide eyes drank it all in. The crown perched on top of her hair felt suddenly heavy as if it was weighting down her very being. She took a step forward—it was hesitant and unsure mirroring a frightened child's walking to a strict parent. Her breath was fog; the air around her was cold and it stung her cheeks like bees.

She extended a hand, despite wearing long gloves she was still shaking with cold clinging her limbs. Her eyes were broad and shining wistfully, "Mommy?" She knew she was a grown woman but she couldn't help herself; it was her mother. Her beloved mother.

The same mother she hadn't seen in eight years.

Moon smiled, almost sadly, and glided forward with the grace she used to carry every day. She brushed Star's bangs to the side and chuckled lightly, "Look at you," she softly whispered and it was like music to Star's ears, "look how you've grown. You're a true queen, Star." Her touch was gentle as it always had been.

Star gave a half-sob and opened her arms, begging for a hug. Moon flinched and took several steps backwards, a haunted look pressed her eyes and was gone as soon as it showed. Star peered at her in hurt confusion, "Mom?"

Her mother was hiding something behind that broken smile. "It's okay...dear...but you mustn't touch me."

"What? Why—"

Her response was sharp and quick like a slap, "Don't touch me, Star." It was odd for her to behave like this.

Star's brow creased and she looked down as if having been scolded, "...understood." Something was different.

A beat.

The blackness around them was almost suffocating. Star glanced up at Moon questioningly after a moment of silence, "Do you know where we are?" She was looking for guidance. She was fourteen again and asking for her mother's opinion on a dress. Star's lip twitched.

Moon appeared exhausted upon closer inspection and that stunned Star, when had that ever happened? "I'm afraid I can't say, dear."

Star shook her head, clearing her thoughts, "What? Mom, why are you being so vague-?"

"Please don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be, Star. I just wanted to see you again." Her eyes swam with tears of longing.

Star was taken aback by the amount of sadness her mother carried on her shoulders. When had she changed? Had she been to blind and naive to notice her mother's struggle? She gnawed on her lower lip and decided to approach the unspoken topic that hung heavily between them, "Mom...y-your d...d-death wasn't your fault...it was mine—" Moon was glaring at her.

"Don't you dare say that." She hissed fiercely, "It wasn't your fault." Her face softened along with her tone and she wrung her hands—Star noted the long, deep scars on her arms, "I would appreciate it if you no longer carried that ridiculous burden." Moon held back a sudden sob while her mask fell to show raw emotion, "I love you so much, dear. Remember that."

Star had a realization form in the pit of her stomach. Her mother was leaving, fading away and she had to stop her. How she knew was beyond her. She hitched up her dress and quickened her pace, her heels clicked over the dark grounds. A panic pulsed her veins, "Mom!"

The darkness clouded her eyes.

Her mother smiled gravely.

Star choked on a sob.

Star gasped and sat up, cold sweat was draped over her brow. Her hand blindly felt the drawer beside her and she clutched at something warm. She dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief and wrapped her arms around her knees; the moonlight streaming through the balcony was rich and stunning.

For a moment all was peaceful as she glanced at her snoring husband. Marco's hair was at disarray and slight drool slipped from the corner of his lolling mouth. She gingerly smoothed down his messy, thick hair.

But then the alarms shrieked and the screams from her people drifted up, carried by the breeze coming from her balcony.

Star stiffened.

Mágoa: A heart-breaking feeling that leaves long-lasting traces, visible in gestures and facial expressions.