Prologue: Edited version
Living in the deep, dark hellhole that was the void was where Vega had spent the majority of her very long life. All of your sense were taken away, and it was hell. Still, unlike many of the others in the old world, she survived.
Honestly, Vega didn't mind the void that much. Others would have complained, pouted, been frustrated, but Vega was right at home. The nothingness she felt was nice. After years of being in places too dark, or being in places where the light people gave off blinded her, she liked not being able to do anything but think.
And unlike those other places, the void was quiet.
There were no voices screaming in her head, telling her to get out, to save herself, to become free, to live. There were no people around her to tell her to be better, and there wasn't anyone telling her that she should be happy.
Alone with her thoughts, Vega got the opportunity to listen to herself, and only herself, though the void had an odd effect on her; she was always in a state of half consciousness or unconsciousness. She got to remember things from her past life, and what she wanted to change once she was finally called upon by a magi.
When she finally did, and got her dungeon raised, she became someone different. Throughout her centuries in the void, she had gradually become less and less aware of her body, and her memory of what she looked like and what being human was like faded from her mind.
Yunan was the one who called her dungeon to the surface, and only her old name seemed befitting of that of a djinn. Orias. The first thought when she had come into existence again was blue. Her skin was blue. Now, it was a pale white, but then, it was blue.
The rare times she looked in the bronze metals in her dungeon, it revealed that her hair was a dark blue, and her eyes an even darker shade of that same color.
But her dungeon was black. It was as dark as the night sky she held power over. In the old world, she hated the dark, associated it with her past, never with her future. It was unfortunate though, when she finally realized that her magic was of the realm she had hated so much. Eventually, when she got older, Arba had explained that she had been captured because of her powers, and she hated them all the more.
Maybe now she would finally be able to change that. In Alma Torran, they had bequeathed upon her a new name, to shed her past and look into the future. Maybe she would finally be able to fit that name, and not be always stuck, wandering, and lost between the two identities that were her.
She had no way of telling how much time had passed before someone claimed her dungeon. All she knew was that she had enough time to create and place whatever she wished within what soon became her home, was able to practice her magic, something oddly hard to adapt to in her new body, and develop more magic spells that would aid her in her journey to help Solomon.
Vega also had enough time to listen to the stars. At nights, when her powers were strongest, she deserted the treasury room she stayed in and went to the top layer of her dungeon. Cool nights and colder breezes relaxed her body as she lay as close to the stars as she could get without removing herself from her home.
For a long time, she was content, watching as the shooting stars that fell from the sky burst into a million sparks. She thought of why Solomon had named her that, why he would name her after something that would burn itself out in the end, something that would die. She thought of Arba and Sheba and Solomon, Ithnan and Ugo.
One day, the stars started whispering to her.
They told her of the fate this world would face, the horrors and monstrosities that the greatest people would overcome, and the things that they would fail in. They hinted at something bigger that would happen, something that would effect everyone, everything, every world. Images flooded her head; those bloody, gorey pictures of the past, present and future.
But whenever they came across a topic that seemed important to Vega, they moved onto another one. When she asked them, they would never answer. Their lights were constant, bright, knowing.
She began to love the night and everything associated with it. The dark became her new best friend; the stars became her parents. The cool breeze that swept through the desert on winter nights became both her lover and her enemy, caressing her with a gentle push, or battering her with fierce, inhuman winds.
The sun became her enemy.
Many, many moons had rose in the sky and descended before it came back the nest day. Hundreds of cycles of the Lunar phases passed, and still she looked the same. Nobody came to her dungeon, but she relished being alone. Some days she hoped that no one would ever capture her dungeon, and she could stay just as she was.
But the stars whispered again, of a boy called Aladdin. He would be coming soon, to capture her dungeon. He would be the one to start moving her in the direction she was supposed to go in.
Vega resigned herself to her fate and waited.
Aladdin wasn't the most trustworthy man. He was a thief and had a pet monkey. He had a crush on the princess, and wanted to marry her. First and foremost though, he became her friend.
For the year she had known him, he had visited many brothels, trying to get his mind off of her, but she still remained there, at the forefront of his mind. Jasmine. The princess. The first few times were awkward, but she realized that when she first appeared, she was more scantily clad than the women who gave him lapdances. Any embarrassment she had soon faded.
He became Prince Ali, one of the many suitors vying to get Princess Jasmine's hand in marriage, to become the next sultan. By using her powers and djinn equipping, he eventually did. Ali grew older, and so did Jasmine and his monkey. They grew old, had kids, but neither of them ever told any of their children about her. She was a secret, a friend, She would not be abused.
Ali died. He was a good king, a great king, the best friend she ever had. His reign had been unquestioned, and only died from old age. When he did, he let her free.
"I will not let you go back there," he said as firmly as he could while lying on his deathbed.
Vega, who had been saving up her magoi to bring herself out of her metal vessel shook her head. "All djinn are meant to go back there once their king's candidate becomes- well-"
Jasmine put her hand over Ali's and smiled at Vega. "We want you to be happy. You were a great friend to us, and we can't let you disappear for another century or two. You deserve to see this world."
Ali nodded. "So how do we? How do we release you from your metal vessel?"
"I don't know," she whispered, uncomfortable in the room, rather small considering her size. Vega had lied, again. She had done time and time again back at Alma Torran, but she thought she had finally broken the habit.
Ali's eyes held a knowing look. "I know that you do. Even if you don't, we'll figure out a way. It doesn't matter how long it takes."
Vega did know. Every time she had come out after her dungeon had been 'conquered' by Ali, the stars had been whispering to her, telling her what to do. Their voices never rose above a murmur, but lately, those few times Ali had managed enough magoi to call her out, the stars had been so insistent, all of the,m, that it made her head hurt.
Even now she was getting a headache, the open window doing nothing to prevent the noise from filtering in.
Solomon's words came back to her. Protect my son. Protect this world. She couldn't do that if she was back in the void, but she wasn't ready.
The story is being set into motion. His son needs your help. They need your help. Find the others. Save the world. Came the voices of the stars, clamoring to be heard.
No, she told herself. Solomon had said that to everybody, and the stars didn't know how inexperienced and weak she was compared to the others. Dantalion would make a much better choice.
No, the stars told her again, No, it must be you.
She gave in.
"If you do this is how…"
As Vega looked down at her forearms, they were no longer blue. Her hair was no longer blue, and her eyes were no longer blue either. Her hair was black like the night, her skin as pale as the moon in her beloved sky.
Her eyes were red around the edges, puffy from tears and rubbing, but the irises were the dark purple of the top of the sky during sunset.
Ali must have known that he was going to die. It must have been the reason why he had wanted her so badly to be free. He must have known that the last bit of magoi he had in his body would be just enough to free her before he passed on.
She appeared to be only a few years older than the age she was in Alma Torran; she had the body of an nineteen year old, three years older than what she was before.
Vega just didn't understand. When Ali had passed, Jasmine had not cried. All she did was run her hand through Vega's hair and murmur that it would all be alright. She, the one who had taken the last life from Ali, was the one being comforted. Jasmine sent her off with a small smile, and a kind heart.
Her hands were clenched at her side, wondering what Jasmine would have to face without her husband at her side in that large castle that would become lonely all too soon. Originally, she had wanted to stay there, but Jasmine had shook her head and replied with a definitive 'No.'
She and her late husband were both intuitive, and both of them had known that she had a bigger destiny than just staying there with them. She had been the selfish one, not wanting to let go of one of the only true friends she had, but now she saw the truth. Vega was destined for something much greater than their country, and she would do the world good in whatever she did. Other people needed her more.
But now, Vega was lost, and rather confused. One moment she was in Agrabah, the next she was in a totally different country. After she had waved her last goodbye, she had been swept up in some kind of magic and she had been unable to stop it.
Vega had departed from the castle with the clothes on her back and a few trinkets she was especially fond of. But now, more than a quarter of what she had in her dungeon appeared at her side.
Her body shivered and she felt bare. The anklets she had worn as a djinn had not sized down with her, and she felt empty and undefended. She would have to commission a set of those soon. After she paid someone handsomely to help her carry the items into town, she looked up at the stars again. They had fallen silent, not speaking a word after she had become free. She felt- lonely.
Though they had left her, she still knew her mission. She had to find the other djinns and warn them of the coming danger. She had to find Solomon's son and ensure he was safe. She had a world to save-
And her first lead was a place called Balbadd, a merchant country filled with turmoil.
Please note that this is an edit of the original prologue. Just let me know if you want me to keep the edited versions of the story different or just erase as I go along. I still have the original file in my google drive, so I can put it back up no problem.
I love all of the readers, but it gives me a little bit of light in my day when I see that somebody Favorited/followed/revied my story. Thanks~
