An eggshell is cracks open and its yolk is in the form of ten-year-old girl that spills out into a chasm of space. Illyasviel von Einzbern is born; she wakes up. Her silver hair is flouncing about, her eyes are a deep alizarin. Waking. Being.
Wake up!
Illya's face trembles towards the void before her; fully awake, but half aware. Iridescent shrill screaming noises surround her, she covers her ears.
Is this the end of the world? Illya ponders while floating through an abysmal, expansive apocalypse-sphere. This is the best description of the undulating mass that she is awake inside of.
The uniformity of the space-time dimension warps from a cube to a sphereーto any other conceivable three dimensional shape in a matter of seconds. Illya can't really tell if the realm's color is blue or purple; it is far too dark and dreary in this place to be able tell a thing like that!
She is wearing an unfamiliar uniform, like something that she would see in those Pretty Cure series that religiously consumes. Out of the eggshell, she transformed into a flowing pink skirt that resembles petals drifting off of the sepal of a rose that then transformed into the brilliant fragments of rose quartz, flaring out in jagged segments; separating from her center of gravity. Particles detaching and floating away into oblivion. Below her were knee-high boots with white wings attached to them, also disintegrating before her eyes. Her legs looked like two scribbled lines to her blurred vision.
"Who else has wings on their shoes," Illya pondered with dreary recollection, unsure if the words are actually spilling through her mouth, "I know it was a Grecian deity... was it Hermès? Yeah, uh-huh, that's the guy... I guess… boy, this is a weird dream!"
Her vision is hazy, at best, and she can feel is a cold, dark sense of terror filling her belly. When her vision adjusts to the blackness, she sees another girl, about her age floating in front of her; she seemed to be unconscious.
Illya feels a faint flush rise to her cheeks. The sleeping girl has hair like black silk and a pallid, porcelain complexion. She has immaculate doll flesh; an angelic vision. Flawless skin, long eyelashes. A small, pointed nose. She was draped in a long, flowing, periwinkle robeーshe was like the living embodiment of an amaranth flower.
She's beautiful.
The thought feels like it is lifted from her head without knowing. Illya feels so light that it was as if her mind couldn't even contain a single thought. She tried to knot her face into a pout, but every part of her body has gone numb.
A tan-skinned girl with silvery, rose colored hair appears from an apparent wormhole in the dimension. Her eyes are a glimmering orange and she wears a mischievous cat-like expression that makes Illya's stomach peel backwards despite this girl's confident charisma. Her outfit appears to be a red bikini with a cape; it's like watching a science fiction movie! She then grabbed the amaranthine girl and tilted her small body diagonally, like a pair of ballroom dancers sensuously twisting together. Illya gaspedーthe tan-skinned girl suddenly unsheathed a serrated dagger from a utility belt that happens to be attached to her bare waist!
Illya tries to scream, but her voice bubbles up into a void and the raven-haired girl is stabbed through the chest! Tears escape from the beautiful girl's eyes, like tiny pearls of pain through the that can only be translated through this microcosm of a moment; these tears are torn loose from the petite girl's face; blood paints her sullen face, her mouth and chest are covered in red liquid. While her terrified, newly awakened eyes meet Illya's, her shivering lips mouth in something in a barely audible voice: "An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fadesーdon't forget me, Illya!"
(the bloodcurdling scream goes mute)
An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades.
(the vision begins to fade away)
An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades.
(further, the figures are mosaics)
An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades.
(far away; where did she go?)
An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades.
(is she okay; I can't see her anymore)
An amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades.
(where did you go; where am I? I can't see anything!)
Illya jolts awake, her heart rapping against her chest like a pigeon; white rays of sunlight melt away the colors in her bedroom. Twisting between the sheets, delirious with confusion and fatigue.
I need to rescue her!
Illya abruptly rolls out of bed like a sheet-burrito and hits the chair protruding from her desk.
"Umph, ow?" she says, quietly mewling, and them her eyes begin to flutter back into a REM-type stasis.
Maybe if I go back to sleep I can see what happens next.
Every prim practicality is evaporated by the sun's cruel rays. Leysritt and Sella gather together on either side of her newly formed sheet-cocoon.
"Ojou-sama," Leysritt began, "it's time to wake up. You're going to be late for school."
"Mmm," Illya groans, "give me five more minutes... just a few minutes and I can rescue... "
"Who are you needing to see again, m'lady?" Sella asked, tilting her head.
"Amaranth."
Leysritt and Sella both look at each other; baffled, asking synchronously, "Who?"
" ...amaranth is an imaginary flower that never fades."
They both exhale a sigh and Leysritt gathers the small girl in her arms and carries her to the dining hall, while Sella sets out an assortment of croissants and flavored jam on ornate, ceramic plates. The two of them work together like clockwork.
Illya is shaken into wakefulness and immediately puffs out her cheeks at Leysritt's voluptuous figure, "Let me go! I can't see anything, Leysritt, your boobs are too big!"
"As you wish, m'lady."
Leysritt looks at her with her usual deadpan expression and drops her into a dining seat. Illya seems contemplative, not phased by the fall.
"When is Shirou coming over?" Illya asks, transitioning from the melancholy of a sad dream to a feeling of burgeoning excitementーat the thought of seeing her dearest childhood friend; a brother in spirit.
Leysritt has already drifted away to to make Illya's bed; Sella flips a pancake from the next room over, and answers, "He called earlier and said that he'll meet you halfway there. Said he had to pick up a bundle of emergency donuts for Artoria, since he had way too much work to do to fit in the time to make her breakfast. He is always working on something, trying to help someone."
"Yep, that's my onii-san!"
Illya chuckles to herself, clasping her mouth, imagining a grumpy, food-deprived Artoria. Last time this happened, Illya dropped by to pick Shirou up and Artoria had a golden, cruller donut sticking out of her mouth.
After breakfast, Illya hugs Leysritt and Sella and heads out the door; commenting that the color of her uniform looks like a boring bisque soup.
"You've never complained before, madame?" Leysritt comments, expressionless as always.
"Oh!" Illyasviel gushes, "I dreamed that I was a magical girl! Like Cure Blossom! I was in a really cute pink uniform... it was amazing! I had wings on these stylish, thigh-high boots and I could fly! It was marvelous! "
There is a beat and Illya felt like details of the night before has slipped from her memory; something was at the tip of her tongue.
"You watch too much television," says Sella, instead of sounding concerned, the intonation was monotone.
"I see her playing those visual novels quite often," follows Leysritt, pronouncing visual novels with quotation marks.
"Not something that a young heiress should be engaging in." Sella continues.
Illya's face flushes, not wanting to explain to them that she was secretly an otaku, she nervously twiddles her pointer fingers, "Mmm, well, I'm going to be late. See you later!"
Before she reaches the door, she prayed at her deceased parents' shrine. Portraits of Irisviel and Kiritsugu were placed next to each other, Illya regularly places vases filled with white lilies next to their memorial; Leysritt and Sella have left the room alone, out of respect for Illya.
"See you later, Mother... Father!"
While Illya is running out of her Western-styled mansion, she nearly trips over a large groaning cat; it has matted fur like a typical stay animal and one of its eyes are sewn shut with a scar. Its meowing has a baritone timbre. Illya shivers in disgust and mutters, "Urgh, I already hate cats, but last night made me hate them more!"
Under a snow of blossoming cherry petals, Illya meets Shirou. He smiles politely at her.
"What's up?" Shirou asks; his presence always calms Illya's nerves.
"Oh, not much!"
"Hm," he replies, "Sella told me that you dreamt about being a magical girl and refused to get dressed for school."
Illya is stunned with shame, Why did Sella have to blab about that?
"Y-Yeah," Illya replies bashfully, "it was pretty awkward."
Before Shirou can respond, trying to find words to not completely humiliate herーa figure from across the street catches Illyasviel's eye. A petite dark-haired girl who looks eerily familiar.
I think I know her, somehow!
Music starts playing in Illya's head; a virile chorus infiltrates her mind. Her heart is audibly palpitating in her ears. Shirou opens his mouth, but Illya interrupts him with a curtーSorry!
Illya impulsively runs across the street without looking, recalcitrantーa horn blares and there's a large truck immediately veering towards her; Illya stops; stunned, like a deer in headlights. She feels a pair of hands grab her and pull her off of the road.
The scent of lavender mingled with the scents of cherry blossoms in the spring arouses her senses. Her eyes are still clenching from the terror of the near-death experience. She hears Shirou shouting from the crosswalk, but she can't understand a word of what he's sayingーjust that his voice sounds maniac.
"You're alright now."
A familiar feminine voice breaks through the delirium. Soothing, the chiming of tiny bells tied to a tree branch. Illya's eyes widen as they openー
An imaginary flower that never fades.