Message from Chrissy: so this is the first post for "Breaking Rules" and I expect much criticism, etc. etc. I had to fudge a few facts, I did the best I could on years, don't bash that, considering that when the books were written they all only aged about a year or so in the process of 4 real years, so I guessed. -shrug-. Also, grammar is not my thing, i try but punctuation constantly throws me. I do proofread, but it makes sense to me. Consider my bad grammar to be some deep and personal contribution to my narrator, if that makes you feel better.

Disclaimer / Rating: the reason this is rated T for Teen is not necessarily because of what is in this first chapter, but rather where it could go, possibly, I haven't decided yet, but it could get to Teen, language wise at least. We'll just have to wait and see on that one. Other than that, DOTM is not mine, and 90 percent of the characters / rules / etc in this fic will be made up. All the rules are getting thrown out the window in this one just so you know, the rules have changed.

But now, the story.

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When light and dark meld as one, the surface realm will be in subtle war as the veil lifts. A daughter will be born of noble blood and gifted by the Goddess with powers that succeed her forgotten predecessors. But this line of Fate has yet to be drawn and the shadow vanquished has once more grown. The Atrox has returned to reclaim its title and only one stands in the way.

Kyra stared out of the window on the airplane, unable to distract herself even by the view of the cities and land below. Her cheeks were stained with tears as she flew through an endless sea of clouds on her way to Glendale, California, a place she had visited many times to see her family and stay with them over many summers, a place she had grown to love as her own. A voice came over the intercom, they would be landing within the next hour and all passengers were advised to let the attendants begin to prepare for the arrival into Los Angeles. Kyra tore her gaze away from the sun lit clouds and was suddenly overcome with emotion. Her grandmother had died, her mother along with her. Kyra would have been dead too, if not for the bad weather coming out of Florida. Kyra's father was already awaiting his daughter's arrival in the airport; he had been in Pasadena on business when it happened, she hadn't spoken to him since the accident, no call, no e-mail, no nothing, it unnerved her even more.

Murdered.

The word echoed in her mind, screaming and tearing through the walls she had begun to put up. They had been coming out from a restaurant and were killed, shot, but no one was caught or charged. Kyra's uncle Andrew broke the news to her and, mentally, she collapsed. She hadn't spoken in days, unable to make words come out of her throat, only tears made their way from her eyes. "Five minutes until landing, please fasten your seatbelts and put your chairs in their upright positions, thank you, we hope you enjoyed your flight" the voice said over the intercom, personable as expected, but cold at the same time.

Jeffery Adams paced across the airport floor. He had been restless since the news of his wife and his mother-in-law's deaths reached his ears. He was a sight to see, frantically running a hand through his frazzled chestnut hair, crumpled clothes that had been shoved tightly in a suitcase and bloodshot eyes that were a mixture of both sleep deprivation and constant tears. His life had been perfect. He had the perfect wife, the wonderful daughter, an amazing brother-in-law, and a mother-in-law that he got along with wonderfully. How could this have all changed so quickly?

"Dad?" a small voice managed to choke out, hoarse and strained, "Dad," it repeated louder, her throat closing up as the child ran to him. Kyra began to sob uncontrollably, despite her best efforts, and her dad just held her, saying nothing, not a comforting 'hello' or 'everything is okay' because in the real world, nothing was ever okay, a lesson that Kyra had learned at a young age. Life could be great, life could be amazing, but somewhere, something was going wrong. Her father wrote about it constantly, a columnist for a national paper based out of Florida; he always got the stories that broke your heart.

Andrew, Kyra's uncle, arrived a moment later with their baggage. Her uncle, usually a very upbeat happy person, had been extremely quiet ever since his sister's death had been brought to his attention. When he heard his mother had died as well, he became numb; there was just no other way to put it. He put a hand on Jeffery's shoulder and attempted to speak, "The car's outside" he managed to get out, not looking either of the two in their eyes, and with that he walked out. It was scary to see him act that way, it made Kyra's stomach turn.

The funeral was not small. Kyra could barely begin to guess how many people had shown up to pay their respects, maybe near a hundred. Everyone had gone by now, back to her grandfather's house for the reception, but Kyra had asked to stay behind. There was no argument from her father or her uncle. Her grandfather, however, protested, wishing she wouldn't be out alone, but she reassured him that she would not be out to late. She sat between the coffins and the tombstones, the coffins still up for display. Not until she left would they are subjected to going underground. Her pale fingers traced the letters of her mother's name, Elisha, Kyra said softly in her head, Elisha Marie Adams, beloved wife and mother, never will she be forgotten, 2008 – 2047. Below the etchings was a single rounded picture of her mother, caught off guard with a candid expression of happiness, it was Kyra's favorite. Kyra was always jealous of her mother's looks, she had light brown, nearly blonde, hair that lay in curls to her shoulders, matched with blindingly perfect white teeth and piercing blue eyes, she was, without a doubt, a knock-out while Kyra was, well, not.

Kyra shifted over, tears welling up in her eyes, to her beloved grandmother's tombstone. Her grandmother, even at old age, was obviously gorgeous, almost surreal looking in her picture. Kyra and her grandmother had gotten along extremely well, they were both hopeless romantics and loved the same foods, and most importantly, Kyra knew that something was special about her grandmother, that something always made her feel safe and like she would always be watched over. "Heart of hearts, soul of souls, never shall you truly die, for love will keep you alive" was etched onto the tombstone. Kyra repeated it aloud, the words filling her with emotions she couldn't even describe. "Here lies Vanessa Saratoga, grandmother, mother, wife, daughter, 1984 -2047."

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