AN:
All rights to Sailor Moon belong to Naoko Takeuchi. All rights to this fanfic and these idea's belong to me. Do not steal. :)
I advise you to keep checking back because this will probably become a completely different piece of writing in a few days, knowing me. xD If this were a drawing, this would be a few circles and lines that are the beginning of a fleshed out figure. Rated MA. Just in case. :P
SAILOR MOON: SuperStars
A season six fan fiction by Nike-chan.
Prologue
What curious and benevolent combinations of light and dark do make us who we are. What inconsequential and perennial moments define whether and how any one creature may be classified- good or evil. Light or dark.
There are rules. Rules that dictate the world of energy and darkness. Rules that dictate what a Dark Lord- what the almighty God of Destruction- may or may not do. Rules that detail who the one born in darkness may or may not love. The punishment for breaking such rules, for transcending one's place in the world- is harsh. Not even the one born in light may save herself or those she loves from such consequences- for she has yet to learn-
Why the brightest light,
Casts the darkest shadow.
In such pure, undefinable darkness there is spilt silver blood that trickles slowly.
There is a white dress adorned with seamed black roses. A flicker of ebony hair. The rustle of a wing.
Drip.
How wasteful. To break the laws is to meet death by ones' own hand. But that matters not.
Where the dark is pure and all consuming, there is regality and beauty in evil- where there is hatred in its hottest form- there is power unyielding. It is to be harnessed and used- the elegant spidery writing scrawled across the burning letter, in its destruction, now holds this power. The creature whose graceful hand produced it with long-fingered frailty has been smote and abolished- betrayed- killed by those whom for so long she tried to honor, so much did she desire to be one of them. No- in the end, it was the one to whom she addressed her letter that killed her.
And the endless dark.
There is a glimmer. A feather of pure light. It lies a few inches from the outstretched hand. Besmirched. Flecked with droplets of scarlet blood. It tastes of pain. Of betrayal. Does it belong to the one who lies shamed, drawing energy from the velvet black? No. It's her- her wings ripped clean away. It begins- the end of everything, at the hand of the one born in light.
AN: Yes, I know you can't tell whats going on or who's who or what's happened. :P That's the point. Please review and tell me how it sounds! Worth being continued? Or should I scratch that and try another opening? :DD