Spitting out a mouthful of dirt and grass, her whole body shaking, she lifted herself up from the ground and onto her elbows. Water seeped inside her shoes, the cold urging her to stand despite her head swimming. Colours danced before her eyes.

I'm blind, she thought with a start, the cold night air catching in her throat. After almost a full minute, the colours began to fade, shapes replacing the gloom. Unfamiliar trees towered above, leaving just a jagged patch of night sky overhead. Everything was wet, glinting from rain. Light-headed and breathless, she scanned her surroundings.

This definitely isn't Yates street. This is some kind of... Forest. A clearing. I don't - What just happened? Where the hell am I?

Clouds roiled in the sky, separating to reveal a sea of stars. No brown city lights penetrated the horizon. No birds or insects called, the silence making the meadow look and feel almost like a picture. Her breathing seemed loud and overpowering in the quiet. What do I do? Blood rushed in her ears as her heart began to pound in her chest. She stepped forward, the ground spongy beneath her feet. I should... Uh... What did Girl Scouts tell me to do when lost in the woods? Find a river. Roads and towns are by rivers. If I can find a town I can call ho-

A mechanical hiss cut the air somewhere in the distance, followed by a resonating crash. Birds and small animals erupted from the trees. Brambles snagged at her clothes and shoulderbag as she sprang forward, another impact shaking the ground out from beneath her feet.

"Ah!" she cried, thorns stabbing her back and legs. The tremor came again, louder this time.

Whatever that is, it's fucking big, and it's coming!

Gritting her teeth she tore free of the bush, darting along the treeline and into long grass. Under the starlight the ground was a smear of grey, shapes impossible to distinguish. Muddy soil gave way to water, which splashed up around her waist in the space of a few bounds. Wheeling to get out of the pond she caught sight of trees bending, parting under some colossal weight forcing its way through. Everything shuddered as it took another step.

"Stop running!" boomed an exasperated voice. Back on solid ground, she froze in her tracks. It had seemed to come from the broken trees.

"I've been waiting for you for hours and I can't be bothered with chasing you as well. I'm supposed to bring you to Dornkirk alive. Don't move or I'll slice you apart anyway." As the tinny voice spoke, the foliage at the opposite end of the clearing seemed to ripple and fall away, revealing a gargantuan iron creature.

"I'm dreaming. This isn't happening," she breathed aloud, taking a shaky step back, her mind racing. As if in answer the mechanical creature squared its shoulders.

Do I run? That thing looks like it has weapons. Looking back over her shoulder at the trees, their trunks only yards away, but the distance may as well have been miles. She hesitated before lifting her hands in surrender. If it shoots me I'll be cut down before I even get close to-

A whistling sound pierced the air, making her jump. Suddenly immobile, she looked down. Instead of a hole growing through her belly like she expected, what looked like mercury wrapped around her middle and legs, spreading around her entire body. Struggling had no effect against the hardening material and soon she was locked tight, just her head and shoulders free. Her chest burned. Choking and gasping, her eyes began to run, no air coming to fill her lungs.

The metal crushing her chest melted away, reforming elsewhere. Sucking in a breath, she flopped over as much as her lumpy prison would allow, barely aware that she was being towed towards the hulking giant.

"You're what all the fuss is about?" Jeered the voice, much closer this time. "A woman? What kind of woman shaves half her hair off?" Looking up through bleary eyes, she could just make out the general shape of a human face somewhere inside the mechanical suit. He sounded young.

"I don't-"

"Chesta, Gatti, return to my position," he barked, aiming his voice elsewhere. "Stratego, we have your Black Dragon, but I can't see what good you think it'll do. It didn't even fight. So boring," he lamented, then giggled - a hard, cruel sound that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

With a jerk and a shudder, they rose into the air. Two similar shapes exploded out of the trees some ways off, rising up to be silhouetted against -

Two moons?

Sure enough, two moons hung on the horizon.

Flying suits that shoot metal, weird forests with trees taller than buildings, and two moons? I've lost it. Bri, you've officially gone mental. I'm not being carried off by a boy in a giant robot at all, I'm being carried off by the men in white jackets. This is just my mind trying to cope with it. God, what the hell was in my drink earlier!?

Theground receded until it looked almost like a painting, though it was none she could recognise. Her ears crackling and the wind biting, she closed her eyes. Whatever powered the suit thrummed louder as they streaked upwards. What little light there was darkened even still, and she opened one eye just a slit to have a look.

Oh. A city. A floating city. Yeah, okay. Fine, she thought. She would have shaken her head with disbelief if not for the struggle it took to breathe in the wind.

Colossal spires dotted with orange lights clung to a piece of floating land like some kind of jagged tick. Icy wind was replaced with a dry, oppressive heat as they entered an aperture in the bottom of the landmass. The blast of hot air felt wonderful at first after the relentless cold and as they ascended a tunnel upwards, she felt she could open her eyes at last. A hangar crowded with similar mechanised suits, coloured blue, spread out before them. Looking down at the red surface of her captor's machine as its arm oustretched to place her on the platform, she caught a glimpse of the metal around her liquify, snaking back up into the arm of the thing.

The hangar was mostly empty. Catwalks suspended high above had the occasional worker moving through them, but otherwise it was a great open space that extended far above and below where she stood. What looked almost like a toll booth or checkpoint sat unmanned in the far wall.

What is this, reception? Man, whatever was in my drink is amazing... But even as she joked to herself, an uncomfortable feeling clenched at her gut. ... This really doesn't feel like a dream. It doesn't even look like a dream. It's all I can think of to explain what's happening, but... Dammit, people don't just show up on another planet. That doesn't happen. Cities don't fly. There aren't two moons. I... Touching her hand to the railing behind her, she gave it a firm squeeze. It felt cool, solid... Physical. Swallowing with nervousness she realised her throat felt like paper, and began examining the platform further in an effort to distract herself.

A tall man wrapped in a cloak stood some metres off, standing so still that at first she guessed him to be a statue. To her surprise he stepped forward, looking as if he were about to speak. His eyes darted to the side however, and following his gaze she saw the boy who flew the machine approaching. The contrast between them was stark. With a black cape slung over his shoulder, short and messy blue hair standing on end and small gold hoops hanging from his ears, he looked out of place in the hangar. He doesn't really look like a soldier like this guy, she thought, looking back at the boy, whose stare and the gleam of his red armour reminded her of a cobra she had seen coiled up at the zoo once.

"Move," he snapped, gesturing towards the doorway. Her eyes looked from him to the taller man, who remained silent. "Don't you understand me? I said, move. I've been waiting in a forest all night for you to show up and I want to get to where the fighting is. Move it."

"Dilandau," said the tall man. "I will take it from here."

"I want to bring her to Dornkirk," he replied, turning his back to him. "You-"

"Dilandau," he repeated. The boy flushed with rage. As he spoke - if one could call screaming 'speaking,' - she realised he had not been conversing in English. Yet, the words were as clear as if she'd spoken the language all her life. She furrowed her brow, puzzled.

I hadn't even noticed before. Something about this language is -

"Are you listening!?" Dilandau barked. "I asked you if you understood me."

"I understand you," she replied, irritated, her fear beginning to give way into anger. "Look, I don't know where I am or what's going on, so if you could just tell-"

"I didn't ask you to talk," he snapped, his eyes flashing. She closed her mouth. "I asked you if you understood me. What's your name?"

She stared at him, incredulous. What the fuck is this guy's problem? He started towards her, making as if to push her.

"Hey, jackass, get away from me!" she roared, stepping back. It was enough to give him pause and he backed off. "I don't know who you are, or where I am, or why I'm here, and I don't want any fucking trouble, okay?" She blustered, shaking. "Look, I was walking home, and then I tripped, and there was a bright light, and then I was stood in some woods in God knows where and then you -" she snarled, jabbing an accusing finger at him, "- You nearly killed me with your stupid robot, so don't touch me. Okay? Just don't touch me."

He snorted, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes as he looked away, but said nothing.

"My name is Brielle. Uh, Brielle Lyons," she added, looking towards the other man, flustered.

"Brielle," he said, just as calm as if the outburst had never occurred. "I am Folken. Follow me. I will show you to the place where you will stay," he explained, turning towards the door.

"Is there some reason she should not be brought before Dornkirk immediately? You told me it was urgent, Stratego," grumbled Dilandau. Refusing to even look at her now, he uncrossed his arms and fell in at Folken's side.

"Other matters are now a priority. When the time comes, you will be present. Go and gather your men. Send one to me."

Muttering what sounded like curses under his breath, Dilandau turned on his heel and headed down the long corridor. As he turned the corner, most of her tension left with him and she let out a sigh of relief.

"Come," said Folken. She obeyed.

I don't really feel like questioning this guy too much right now. He says we're going to somewhere I can stay, so I'll just... try to make sense of my situation when I can actually think.

Dark stone blocks formed the walls around them. Every few feet, a mounted torch burned blue. Even despite their countless numbers, their flickering light did not stop the shadows from filling every corner and swallowing every form. The sounds of growling boilers and metalworks emanating from afar carried with them occasional blasts of warm air that grew infrequent as they walked. The halls opened up into a room with ancient looking weight-driven elevators. As Folken closed a gilded gate with a rattle behind them, she shuddered. The cold kept creeping in as they travelled further from the bottom of the floating city.

She could not tell for certain how long they had been walking, only that her feet ached and she felt stiff all over. I really hope we get wherever we're going soon. It's got to have been around two hours now, surely? He's been quiet this whole way, she thought, looking up at the back of his head as they waited at what looked to be a train station. The place looked sad somehow, worn away like a gravestone, as if centuries of rainfall had taken away all its edges. But we're indoors? This place must be very old.

"Excuse me," she said, coughing into her hand. God, this is awkward. "Folken? What is this place?"

"You are in City Three of the Zaibach Empire."

"Okay. Right. So, there are... Two moons? Here on...?"

"Gaea," he replied, looking towards the shadowy tunnel.

"Do you know how I got here?" she asked. He seemed to hesitate before answering,

"No."

Wind whistled from somewhere deep in the tunnel, a fanfare to the empty carriage that came gliding to a stop at the platform. Brielle followed him onto the car, smiling with relief despite herself. Sitting down after so long felt so good, even the sting from the brambles' cuts subsided. With a lurch, they entered the darkness of the tunnel. What reminded her of Christmas lights flickered to life on the roof, providing dim illumination.

Leaning forward, she closed her eyes, allowing the rythmic clicks of the track to fill her head. A curious feeling settled over her, like Folken had not been silent this whole time so much as he had just been listening.

"Folken?" she asked. The silence between them did not change. "Who's the Dornkirk person that Dylan wants me to see?"

"Dornkirk is the Emperor of Zaibach. Dilandau is a Commander. Mistaking his name in front of him would not be wise."

"Yeah... I'll remember," she mumbled. "So... I assume I'm not going home any time soon. Am I a prisoner? Are we headed to the jail or something?"

"We are not headed to the jails. There is an area of vacant units near the barracks that will serve as temporary housing. You will not be unduly confined."

"Barracks? So far away from the robots?" she asked.

"Guymelefs," he said, correcting her after a brief pause. Seeming to choose his words carefully, he continued, "There are more direct routes to the hangars, but at this juncture you are not permitted to know them."

"At least you're honest," she mumbled. Sensing the carriage slowing, she turned to look out the windows. Light flooded in as the tunnel fell behind them, a platform identical to the one before pulling up into view. Seeing Folken stand, she got to her feet again.

The empty quarters Folken mentioned were not far from the strange tram. Though they stood in a gargantuan hall filled with pillars of stone and cobble, the living quarters were stacked on top of one another three or four identical units high. Thin metal stairs and catwalks spanned along each level for about a mile, at the end of which stood an imposing building that she could only guess was the Barracks. They came to a stop in front of the door at the end of the row.

"This it?" she asked. Sliding her bag from her shoulder she narrowed her eyes and gazed forward. Rubbing at her aching muscle she stepped forward to peer through the small, dark window by the door. Nothing was visible through the grimy glass.

"Wait," he said.

"It isn't as if I'm going anywhere," she grumbled, fed up. "If I'm going to be here and play along, I just want to lie down and try to digest all this weirdness."

"Sir?" called a voice. A young man in blue armour rounded the corner, almost running into her. "Oh! Ah, apologies," he sputtered before turning and throwing a salute, looking up at Folken who nodded. "I apologise for my tardiness, Stratego sir. A message came for the Commander." As he spoke, Brielle noticed what looked like a raising welt on his cheek. Aside from that, not a single sandy blonde hair was out of place. His armour looked similar to Dilandau's, save for the colour and a lack of spikes on his pauldrons. He must have felt both Brielle and Folken's stares on his cheek, for he coughed into his hand and shifted his weight. "Your orders, sir?" he added.

"Emperor Dornkirk requires your duty as a guard here for the night. Someone will be sent to relieve you in the morning. Attend to her needs and ensure she does not leave the premises," he replied. Without further word, Folken turned and left.

"Um, well, goodbye," she said, attempting to mask her confusion by reaching for the doorhandle. He paused.

"Good night, Brielle."

Turning the doorhandle she stepped inside, the young man in blue following close behind. The space was small, bare, and depressing. This feels more like a rabbit hutch than a living space, she thought, looking at the room to the right that was just managing to contain a simple bed and small table. Still, the quiet will be nice after the night I've had. The main room had just enough floor for a miniscule wood oven, a countertop, some unremarkable shelving units, a small table and two chairs. A third door was tucked away in the far wall, behind which she assumed was a water closet. Light came in from two grubby windows in the front and bedroom, the orange gas-lamp light from outside illuminating several old wooden buckets and some kindling in the corner. The air smelled stale.

"I guess no one's lived here for a while?" she wondered aloud, examining the fat-bellied stove and its pipes that ran through a stone wall. Despite being candle lit, the only friendly thing about the room was an old brass kettle, sat atop the stove. She picked it up, turning it over in her hands. Noticing the boy standing stiff as a board in the entranceway, she sighed, replacing it before saying, "You don't need to worry. I'm not going to be making any escape attempts. I'm going to sleep, I think. You, um. What's your name?"

"Gatti. Gatti Rochirion."

"Brielle Lyons."

"Um, we prepared this apartment for you earlier, and there should be some clothes and linens in the bedroom I think. I'll let you be as much as I can," he explained, giving her as wide a berth as possible as she walked by. "But, um, I think - well, we all expected you'd be a man."

"Right," she replied with a tired laugh.

The bedroom door was just a few simple slats of wood, and could not close properly. Gatti took up residence outside it, but looked as if he were trying to give her as much space as he could whilst keeping his station, his back to her. Only too glad to peel off her torn, damp and muddy clothing, she was relieved to find that there were some clothes folded atop the pillow. Pulling plain cloth slacks over her legs and slipping on the white linen undershirt provided, she sat back on the bed with a creak. Running her hand over the shaved parts of her head and through her scruffy mohawk, she sighed.

"Hey, Gatti, did you say?"

"Yes?" he said from beyond the doorway, having moved out of sight, she assumed to afford her privacy.

"I can call you just Gatti, right?"

"Yes. Do you need something?"

"Well... You said your people had prepared this room for me earlier, right? This has all happened so fast. Your Commander said in the forest that he'd been waiting for me." She paused, shaking her head. "I don't... I don't get all this."

"Uh..." he began, his armour clicking against the wall as he shifted his weight. "So, you really are from the Mystic Moon," he muttered, seemingly to himself.

"Mystic Moon?"

"The big blue moon in the sky."

"Oh. Earth."

"Er, anyway, I saw you appear inside lightning. I don't really know how to explain it, but Emperor Dornkirk has known of your coming for a long time. He told us when and where to wait for you. It's just like the legends," he explained, his tone reverential, breathless. "I had thought it might be some kind of illusion, but it's true. There's supposed to be another girl here somewhere, also from the Mystic Moon."

"This is really just creating more questions than it's answering," she groaned, dull pain now throbbing behind her eyes. "You're telling me I was, like... Prophesied to arrive here? I'm just some woman, I'm hardly a prophet. I don't know anything. I'm not about to invent amazing new things, I'm not a genius or a doctor... I'm just some asshole who works in a piercing studio."

"A what?"

"A piercing studio. You know, like this ring in my lip. I pierce people's ears and tongues and stuff," she grumbled, rubbing at her eyes. "And I design tattoos. If you want a sleeve designing or an eyebrow ring, I'm your girl - But I don't know what some Emperor might want with me."

"The Great Leader has never led our people wrong," he said, sounding hurt. "What he asks for doesn't always immediately make sense, but he is always right in the end."

"Okay. I don't know anything about this place or your people and I shouldn't make assumptions. Maybe he is right," she said, scratching at the back of her head. "He didn't say anything else about this prophecy to you, did he?"

"No, Emperor Dornkirk sees very few people. He has audiences with Commander Albatou and Stratego Fanel regularly, though. The Commander doesn't tell us more than we need to know."

"Commander Albatou, eh? That that Dilandau guy in red?"

"Yes."

"Is he always such- er, is he always like that? So intense?" she asked, catching herself. Gatti was quiet for a moment.

"I am honoured to serve under his command and in the Dragonslayers."

"Right. I understand." The welt on his cheek came to mind, and she grimaced before blowing out the candle on the little night-table. "Well... You seem alright Gatti, but I don't want to deal with him if I don't have to," she said through a yawn. Laying back onto the pillow, the darkness of sleep came much easier than she expected.