Disclaimer: I do not own Escaflowne, nor its characters. I do own plot twists, characters of my design, and the souls of friends whom I have stolen to make this work possible. My ideas are copyrighted. No touchy.

"…" = speaking

~…~ = thinking/italicized

am'a-ran'thine: an imaginary flower that never fades

Part One: Beginnings of a Future

Chapter One: Starting Over.

The dripping of water echoed off the damp walls as it slowly slipped through air, splattering across rough stone. Even softer than that was the sound of ragged breathing, and then the silent grip of ice. A glimmer of light appeared, a sliver of hope barred away behind the cell door.

It took the girl a moment to get her bearings as she lie there, shivering in the cold. Struggling to sit up, she blinked, her eyes dilating in the death-like darkness. Instantly she knew she was alone. Something had gone wrong.

Summoning memories back to her muddled mind, she pictured the silhouette, black against a wall of flame. Nothing came before it. She sought frantically for something to grab on to. Where was she?

A loud crack was heard, making her jump in fright. The bolt in the door behind her was drawn back, light piercing her surroundings and temporarily blinding her. Suddenly he was there, a black silhouette against a wall of flame.

"Name," the man demanded, his features still obscured.

"I--" her voice cracked as she shielded her eyes. Feeling helpless and trapped, she scooted back until she hit against the wall.

"Name," he ordered, stepping into the cell.

She could see his silver hair and burning red eyes. She caught sight of the sword belted around his waist. She knew him, didn't she? "Dilandau," she whispered.

"Yours, not mine," he snapped.

Blackness swirled within her mind. Only his image stuck long enough for her to see. Staring down at her hands, she fought for her own identity. And it slowly came.

"Kosmos," she said softly, fear radiating from her as she watched the man come closer.

"Where are you from?"

She hesitated, but then murmured, "I don't remember."

"Don't toy with me, little girl. I have very little patience." Dilandau's eyes gleamed a dark mahogany.

"Wait, really, I don't know. I don't know who you are. I don't know where I am," Kosmos spoke quickly, almost pitifully. Her hand brushed against the ground as she tried to stand, silver rings scraping across rough stone. She knew he was watching her as her knees buckled under her and she fell back against the wall, gasping in pain. Sliding to the floor, she felt tears coming to her eyes. Gingerly she reached up and touched the long gash down the side of her head, cutting through her brown hair in a swath of crimson.

Silent, he watched her. Stared at her for so long, she looked up at him with those horribly innocent, hazel-blue eyes. A child within his grasp.

Letting his hand drop from his hip, he turned, ignoring the frightened whimper emitted from the girl. There had to be a reason he had taken her. Impulse, perhaps. Or something else entirely? It seemed she was somehow tied to the man he wanted dead.

Biting the edge of his lip in contemplation, he strode out the door, ignoring the creak of the bolt being put back into place. Something was wrong with her. Better judgment told him to leave it alone.

To hell with conscience.

"You there!" he barked. The guard passing by halted, immediately coming to attention. Dilandau smirked in satisfaction as he gave his orders, "Get Doctor Merriam down here."

***

Raindrops fell in scattered patterns, grays clouds overhead weighing down upon the crowd gathered upon what had once been acres of field. Now wheat had been replaced with crosses, stark white against the dusty ground. Some had faded, paint peeling and chipping, mixing with the dirt covering the graves. But others shone with a luster of empty beauty, freshly painted for this occasion.

~What a day for a funeral…~ The despairing thought quivered within the redhead's mind as she stood there, witnessing the last three graves being covered. Amber eyes trained upon the endless pile of flowers growing, she barely felt the man by her side shift closer.

"It was my fault," the voice was quiet but not ashamed. Time had tortured the youth into acceptance of the grief he caused. It was his duty to take blame where it was dealt, remove it from the shoulders of his people. Six months of fighting and a year of aftermath had made him into a king. The youngest king Fanelia had ever seen, yet the one they so willingly followed, even to the doors of death.

Shaking her head, Kari turned away from the men and women who had begun to mourn. "You tried," she told him softly. "And that is what they care about."

"You've only been here two weeks. How could you say that?" Van met her gaze, questioning, yet calm. "I was unable to protect your friend. Such a loss is not easily forgiven."

Two weeks? Within that time, Fanelia had been thrown into another war and the casualties

mounted with every day. A war started by the king's very own brother. A man who had once been happy with such simple things, who lost himself to greed for power. A man that placed no value upon his family.

But that wasn't the worst of it. The kingdom was burning. The construction nearly complete after a year of hard work was destroyed. Hope was burning with that wood.

And then Kosmos had been taken--

"You promised you would help me get her back. Isn't that enough?" Kari asked softly, the chill wind playing with the tips of her long, auburn hair.

"Van-sama…" There was a pitiful whine as a girl appeared, clinging desperately to her best friend's arm. Her golden-orange ears drooped, her pink hair plastered to the sides of her furry face. A tail whipped at the air in annoyance before wrapping tightly around her legs. The cold easily pierced her orange jumper, the fur cuffs soggy and uncomfortable. Cats weren't meant to be wet.

Sighing softly, Van slipped out of her grasp and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close. "We'll go back soon, okay, Merle?" The girl nodded miserably.

Van let his eyes wander back to Kari once more. A stranger in his land, in this world. Pained memories haunted him as he remembered another woman that had come to him almost two years earlier. A woman who had changed his life entirely, and then had gone home to the world she couldn't leave. Now another. Another to haunt him, to chastise him, to support him, to reproach him. Another to win his heart and break it, crushing it for the last time.

He had promised never to let it happen again. His whole life was made of broken promises.

The Mystic Moon. A place of nightmares that created his dreams.

Following Kari's gaze, he watched bitterly as men and women, friends of his and others he could not name, fell back from the graves, tears coursing down their cheeks. They had laid to rest so many willing to die for their country, those who fought bravely against impossible odds. And so many were still out there, trying to sleep in this storm, taking shelter beneath crude shelters, eating what little they had.

~This isn't the end…~ his mind whispered softly, ~many more will die before this is through…~

***

"She has amnesia." The diagnosis was made easily enough.

"You are sure of this?" the wary question mirrored the look within the man's eyes. He needed to know what limits were present and where he had free reign.

Deft hands finished placing scissors and needles, cloth and thread back within the small bag the woman carried. She straightened, flickering her blond hair over her shoulder, then turned to face the stony gaze fixated upon her. "Yes, Lord Dilandau," she replied smoothly, "The blow she received to her head must have shaken her up a bit."

A glint appeared in his eyes. "Is it permanent?"

"I can't tell." Merriam shrugged, bending and retrieving her bag from the dirty floor. "It might be, it might not. It all depends." She shifted, impatient to be back in the medical wing. Places like these, the dungeon cells, made her edgy. "The stitches should be able to be removed in a week. I'll be back to check on her then," she stated.

Dilandau let his head turn thoughtfully, looking down upon the girl asleep near the back of the dingy room. The doctor had drugged her into a good, deep sleep, covering her with a warm blanket after stitching the deep gash up the best that she could. What use would this girl be to him? With only a name for a starting point… It was like she was living her life all over again.

The doctor slipped away, leaving the door open a crack, light spilling into the dark, cold cell. He didn't notice her absence, though. His thoughts drew him deeper into plots of murder and subterfuge. "Hmmm… Kosmos…" As he thought, a small smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. He knew what he could do.

***

Light poured in through the window, eliciting a groan from the woman lying in a pile of blanket. Muttering a death threat at the disturbance of her sleep, Kosmos shifted her arm to cover her eyes. Shielded from the glare, she slowly opened one eye, then the other, blinking sleepily at her surroundings. For a second, she couldn't place anything. Terror immediately gripped her, her heart rate skyrocketing as she sat up, tangling herself even more in the mess of gray fleece wrapped around her.

The last thing she remembered was seeing that needle glowing in the dark, hearing firm words telling her to sit still. Coldness and fear had permeated that place.

Shifting slightly, she tentatively prodded the soft bed underneath her. It felt real enough. The blanket was warm, or so she thought. The sun was shining through the large window off to the side of a dresser, wasn't it?

The change of setting confused her. And confusion only made her anxiety worse.

Grabbing the edges of the blanket, she pulled it tightly around her for a moment. The feeling of safety only lasted a moment. Her expression was torn into one of dread as she faced the tough decision to leave the bed and investigate farther into the small expanse of empty space.

Bare feet finding the floor, she pushed herself up and stood there for a moment, a wave of dizziness washing over her. A dull throb spread across the left side of her head and only then did she remember the wound that the woman had told her she was going to sew up. Quietly she moved forward, placing her steps with care.

A chair rested under the window, a gentle breeze stirring the curtains that had been pulled back. Reaching out, she retrieved the small metal framework that rested upon a small stack of clothes. Slipping the glasses on, everything came into focus. Looking out the window once, she staggered back a step. She couldn't see anything but cloud. A misty fog hovered far below, but that was it.

A knock at the door caused her to jump.

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she stood there as the metal door was retracted into the wall, sliding along a greased track. "You!" she exclaimed, recognizing the silver-haired man easily. He looked even paler in the light, his skin almost white.

Without hesitation, the man stepped inside. He stopped a few feet from her, folding both arms and letting them rest against his chest. "I have an offer to make you, Kosmos," he stated bluntly. He wasn't one to dodge an issue.

"Yes?" she questioned softly, forced to look up to meet his eyes. He towered over her, his height blatantly intimidating. Subconsciously she fell back a step.

Arching a slim eyebrow, he looked her up and down. She still wore the torn and bloodstained clothes from the night before. "I would like to extend an invitation for you to become a Dragonslayer and fight with us," he kept it simple. One thing at a time.

Kosmos blinked a few times, not quite understanding what the man was saying. What was he talking about? Hesitating, she asked, "A Dragonslayer? What is that?" The man seemed to be one that held thinning patience and didn't enjoy answering stupid questions. But it wasn't a stupid question for her; she really didn't know.

Dilandau relaxed his arms and let one hand hang while the other rested upon his hip. "A Dragonslayer is a fighter directly under my control. There are only an elite few that make it to my platoon."

Glancing sharply at him, Kosmos checked to make sure he was serious. "Fight? With what?"

Biting back a sarcastic reply of irritation, he forced himself to explain as patiently as possible, "Any numerous weapon, mostly the katana, and also with guymelefs. They are large fighting machines piloted from within their metal framework, understand?" He waited for a moment to let that information sink in. She nodded after a moment and he was able to continue, "You have no home, no family, no friends. All you have is your name. All you need to become a Dragonslayer is your name."

"But--"

Dilandau wouldn't let her cut in. "Let me finish," he snapped with a hiss. She immediately went silent. "Here, in Zaibach, you could create a whole new life. Almost all of the young men in my platoon come from undesirable backgrounds and wish to start over with a new beginning. I'm offering the same opportunity for you."

Kosmos lost herself in her thoughts for a moment. He was right. She didn't have any clue where she had come from or where she was going. Memories of the night before were flooding back to her, the only memories she had beside the name that seemed to have come floating out of oblivion. It was as if she had been abandoned in a time glitch. She was living a life she wasn't supposed to be living but had no other choice but to live.

Once the choice was made, an easily won smile appeared on her lips, her eyes flickering brightly. Bowing slightly, she said with some respect, "My lord, Dilandau, I would be honored to be one of the Dragonslayers." Not allowing herself to think of the burdens she was shouldering, she took the title upon herself, adding it to her name.

Dilandau nodded in approval as he quietly praised her, the last time he would do so, "Wise decision, Kosmos. Very wise. We will train you in our ways, dress you in our uniforms, and teach you our codes. This is your home now. You never had one before, and you will never have another home besides this one again, got that?"

"Where I am, now I live. No place else." There was no regret when she said this. No longing for anything else. After all, she was forgetting about a home she didn't remember existing in the first place.

"Change into those clothes behind you, then meet me at the end of the hall. I'll introduce you to the other Dragonslayers."

A sense of belonging came over Kosmos as she agreed to do so. She was no longer a vagabond with nothing shaping her life. A black silhouette against a wall of flame.

Her destiny, she decided.