Chapter 1: Nightmares And The Stars In The Sky

The night is a time of tranquility. Night is a time of horror. We sleep in the night; most of us do anyway. The darkness that comes with the setting sun comforts us and allows us to be at peace. It is the scene that we see when we close our eyes and shut out the rest of the world. It seems even as though it numbs all other senses. The night is also the source of our greatest fears. The worst monsters imaginable, the ones unimaginable, the people we know and trust morphed in malice, and the strangers we do not. We are at our most vulnerable. We believe that we are somehow less capable of seeing at night than in the day.

Yet for this fear of the night, we enjoy its beauty. The multitudes of countless stars that dot the sky are like little points of hope. They bring relief to the darkness, an ever-present reminder in the darkness that there is light out there.

But is it of any consequence? If the stars were not there, would it matter? Surely the moon has been hailed for the radiance it brings, however fickle and transient. Yet there are nights when the moon cannot be seen. It is when the moon is at its peak, at its brightest, that the fearful things of the world are at their worst. If the brightest light to grace the night is not a safe haven, then what benefit can be expected from a number of tiny points of light far away?

It had been a fun day. As a little girl sat in her bed, her older sister sat beside her, reading her a story. These two girls, separated by ten years, were close. They were as close as sisters could be. The elder was quite well known, and quite well loved. Everyone that had perchance opportunity to meet her or hear of her bore admiration towards her. Yet her time was not most spent at trendy locales, or hobnobbing with wealthy elites or aristocracy. Her time was most spent with this younger sister. They were close. They were so close many said that they more resembled mother and daughter than they did elder and younger sisters.

The two sisters were also quite close to their only brother, Vincent. Just a year younger than the elder sister, he was a cool guy. He was regarded as having a mysterious aura to himself, quite different from the boisterous and out-going nature of the older sister. He was also quite beloved, and too spent lots of time with his sisters, though not as much as the sisters did with one another. One had to wonder if ever there were a trio of siblings as close as these three, spending even this day together at the amusement park.

As for her parents, they were your average parents who spent too much time working. The little girl didn't have any negative feelings towards her parents. She loved them quite a lot. But she never seemed to have a lot of interaction with them. They were always preoccupied with other things. Even being put to bed and read to was something one might have thought a mother or father would be doing for their youngest child. Yet it was her sister that almost always did so. Tonight she had only seen her parents briefly. They kindly asked her about her day as they patted her on the head. They apologized to her for not being able to enjoy it with her, and that they had to miss dinner that night. It was alright with her because she understood they had a lot of responsibilities. As young as she was it was amazing how understanding she seemed about such things. She hardly ever complained. Of course a child can't help but lament on something like that from time to time, but she had her big sister by her side so she never really felt that lonely.

The little girl was exhausted from dragging her brother and sister around the amusement park all day. But as kids often are, she wanted to keep that fun going as long as she could. It was past her bedtime, but she wanted to keep playing with her big sister. She had asked her sister a question once; what do you think the future will be like? It's an easy question to misunderstand. It was an eight-year old child asking the question. She was thinking in a much more limited frame than her choice of words suggested. Even at eight a child's concept of the future is rather confined to a horizon that rarely stretches much more than a few weeks or months, or aspires to some grandiose idea that can hardly be capsulized by thought. Her question at that time was limited in her own mind to the next day. With an extra ten years, you would think an older sister would make the mistake of answering in a lofty sort of way that made clear that difference. But what the elder sister said was a fairly balanced response. She neither treated her little sister like a child with little knowledge of the world, nor did she go completely over her head.

"The future?" she questioned. "I don't bother thinking about stuff like that. I can't see the future, so why waste time thinking too much about it? I don't know anything about it, so why worry? Why don't we just enjoy each day as much as we can?"

That was how she thought about a lot of things. It's hard to say how much that rubbed off on her little sister. But when you tell a child not to worry about the future, think about the present, it's inevitable that the thought of letting a fun day come to an end becomes all but insanity to them. A child can only hold out against sleep for so long. Eventually she just fell asleep as her sister read to her.

Any number of things can wake a child from sleep. Children aren't usually heavy sleepers. They can be exhausted, sleep for a bit, and then be completely full of energy right away. It makes children quite remarkable in that regard. Children are fairly finicky sleepers. Just as easily as a slight noise can wake them, they could sleep through almost anything as well.

A noise woke the little girl that night. She wasn't sure what it was. It was still dark so she knew it must have still been night. As she sat up in bed and listened for that noise again, what she heard was silence. She didn't think much of it. But now that she was up, she was feeling a little thirsty. So, she climbed from under the covers and crept across the floor to the door. She opened the door just enough to slip out. That scene was one she would admittedly forget rather easily in relatively short order. It was the sight of two men, two of the guards of her family's estate, dead on the floor just past her door. She knew they were dead. She was more than old enough to comprehend something like death, and being the men were laid out on the floor, eyes wide, mouth agape, and in a pool of blood, it was the immediate and obvious conclusion.

A child may comprehend death, but even an adult will be flustered when confronted with one, let alone two, dead bodies. What one does and what one is supposed to do are worlds apart. In this regard children and adults are not that far apart. It can't be helped. It's a matter of nature. As the girl saw those bodies, she already knew they were dead. Yet she asked in a small voice whether or not they were alright. She repeated it a couple times, each time inching her way further and further down the hallway.

When we see something as unimaginable as a dead body, especially in our own home, our reaction is usually to run to the place that is safest in our minds. As an adult, that place is any person of authority or trust away from the scene of that murder. We think of calling the police, we seek shelter at a friend or neighbors house. For a child their thoughts of safety are invariably going to go towards those closest to them, their family. The little girl turned away from that traumatizing scene of the dead bodies and ran towards her parent's room. As fast as she could she ran to her parents. It was doubtful she had any other thoughts on her mind but reaching her mother and father, or even her brother and sister. She might not have even realized tears were rolling down her cheeks.

But that was no more a comfort to her than the place she left. She ran from terror and straight into hell. With every moment that passed she saw more and more death. It was a terrible sight, a massacre of stark proportions as if purposely laid before her on her quest to her parent's room. One after another dead bodies were scattered through the halls, like the river Styx had been summoned to this world. Blood soaked into her bare feet. Her nightgown became trimmed in crimson as she navigated this site of brutality. There were spots along the way where she had no choice but to slow down, so many bodies in the hallway that she had no choice but to try and step around them. Nevertheless she continued to press forward. All she wanted was to reach the safety of her mother, father, sister, and brother. She couldn't stop to think about what was going on or what else she should do. Her focus was entirely singular.

After this trial came another. As she made it past that river of blood her eyes went wide in excitement. She could see her parent's room now and that meant she was right on the precipice of her sanctuary. However that sanctuary was yet another sphere of hell. It was another terrible indelible mark that would haunt her for as long as she lives.

On the boundary between her parent's room and the hall lay another body. It wasn't just another body to her. When the police would investigate this scene later they would determine one thing that makes this body unique. It was the body of the first person to fall in this massacre. This person had died nearly an hour after the little girl had gone to sleep, over an hour and a half before she awoke, nearly two hours before the little girl came upon it. This timeline was of no consequence to the little girl at all. She knew nothing of it. It didn't matter. That body was not just another guard or staff member of the home. This person was that little girl's brother.

The little girl staggered to her brother's side. She collapsed to her knees in the tacky pool of blood that seeped from his body. She whispered out his name, pleading with him to wake up. She put her little hands on him to shake him. She knew, yet she didn't. He was dead. His body was already starting to feel cold. But she didn't want to believe it. Her beloved elder brother whom she spent the day with, there was no way he was dead now. And then there was a noise.

She was lost in her focus on her brother. She stopped her fruitless efforts at rousing him at that sound she heard. It came from within her parent's room. The door was slightly ajar. It wasn't enough to see in very clearly, especially in what little light there was in the darkened hall and room. The little girl felt a trepidation creep over her. She didn't know it, but it was probably a subconscious fear that the killer was in there at that moment with her parents. But that fear, her apprehension, didn't stop her from easing her way in. She may have felt a slight fear of going into that room, but she more felt an urgent desire to be with her mother and father.

The little girl eased open the door just a bit more, enough to make it inside. It was this scene, this one scene, which would replay itself time and time again. For a long time it was the only event of this terrible night that actually stuck with her. She wanted to forget, and tried hard to. But it was something she could never forget. It haunted her always, as if forcing her to recall it in every detail. Yet, it was a brief scene. It lasted not more than a few seconds. Some say she must have passed out after seeing that scene, the reason her memories stop short there. Others have theorized it was just too traumatic for her and she did actually just forget the rest. As for that girl… she doesn't know for sure. She wanted to forget ever seeing that scene for quite a long time. But eventually her desires changed. It didn't become any less horrific. It didn't become any more acceptable. It became necessary. She wanted to understand, needed to understand, what happened that terrible night. That final scene of the most macabre play of her life was the key to understanding the unfinished plot.

When the little girl entered that room, she froze in place. In that room was her family. There she could plainly see her mother, father, and big sister. It should have been a relief to see them. She had spent the better part of a half hour trying to see them… but not like this. Today she can't really remember if she screamed or not. She thinks she might have; anyone would. She might not have though. A shock like that does tend to leave some speechless. After the incident she goes nearly ten days before she utters even a single word to anyone. Even then she doesn't say much of anything but brief replies.

She found her family, or what was left of it, in that room. That is where her memories of the night end. Investigators would note that there was a period of over an hour missing from her memory starting at that point she entered the room and finishing at the point where the authorities arrived at the home. It used to be longer. There was a time her memories stopped just before that, at the point when she found her brother. Shock is the only explanation she could think of as to why the limits her of memory are as they are. There was a time she didn't care one way or another. In time she would come to desire those memories with such fervent longing. And then, continuing on the cycle, she would come to dismiss the need of those memories. She came to a conclusion about that night and with amazing determination chose to accept her own understanding of reality. Which is fine since, after all, reality is a construct of each individual's understanding of the definition of that word. Truth and reality are not always in line with one another. The truth is the truth. Reality can be the truth, or it can be a lie. That lie can be malicious, or it can be therapeutic. It can be intended to hurt someone, to save them, or to save yourself. An individual is in the unique place where one can create a reality for themselves and be powerless to alter it on their own. That doesn't make sense, but once again, that is a truth. Reality must be validated by the belief in it as reality by another. Reality requires two individuals at the very least who believe it to be reality. Once reality is created, all those who recognize it as such must consent to destroy it, otherwise that reality persists, albeit at some capacity different than if everyone believes it. This is itself a source of magic, of miracles, and of curses.

She found her family, or what was left of it, in that room, that little girl did. Her father lay on the floor in a pool of blood, much like her brother and the scores of other bodies. She saw her mother drop to the floor as well, her face gruesomely disfigured, as if someone had clutched it tight and squeezed the life from her. And her sister – her beloved sister whom she spent each and every day with, laughed with, played with, and admired more than anyone else in this entire world – stood over those bodies. Her eyes were wild, like a deranged beast's. A pencil thin smile adorned her blood-splattered face. Her clothes were similar to the little girl's; a vibrant crimson. This was the scene the little girl would forever have burned into her retinas. When she slept, when she was awake, at any time her mind was free to wander more than a moment, she would see that sight again, and hear those words, "It's alright, no one'll hurt you now, my precious little sister,". Those were the last words she heard from her beloved sister's lips, as that beloved sister cocked her head to the side to gaze at her with those terrifying eyes. It was those eyes that were filled with rage, anger, malice, sadness, and love, that the little girl saw almost every day of her life. From that night forward they would only be visible to her in her memories, whether she wanted them to be or not.

That was the end of her dream. At a point in time separated from now by several long years she would have sooner described it as a nightmare than a simple dream. It wasn't that she had become used to it, because it still roused her to a cold sweat each time. And in reality she couldn't justify the choice of nomenclature if she were asked to. She knew it was just a matter of fooling herself, an attempt to foster a different reality that failed to reach that threshold since she didn't believe in it herself. Calling it a dream and not a nightmare preserved something for her, something she didn't want to lose. If that was good enough for her, then what more is there to say?

Her nightmarish dream ended, and she woke up. She was awoken by a gentle hand rocking her in her bed. She sat up in her bed, squinting just a little at the sunlight that passed through her thin curtains. It was that time of the year where the sunlight of the morning shone through directly on her bed. She would certainly have to have them changed out for something a little heavier.

As her eyes adjusted to the morning light, a little rubbing to coax them to waken, she looked at the person who was trying to rouse her. The woman spoke softly, asking for the girl to wake up. This woman had a gentle voice. It wasn't quiet or particularly soft. It simply had a silky tonality to it. She was slender with long fingers. Her dark eyes were sharp, as if threatening to pierce through any veil. Yet it wasn't as though she appeared angry at all, her eyes almost as though they were twinkling with joy to be here. Her dark wavy hair settled neatly behind her reaching down to the center of her back as she sat on the bed beside the girl.

Perhaps it would be rude to call her a girl any longer. She was already well into adulthood. In the many years since she witnessed the massacre at her family's mansion she'd grown older and now had a family of her own. She wasn't an ordinary girl back then, and she was even less of a common woman now. She had a lot of responsibilities now, so much so that her mind rarely had opportunity to return to those days.

The little girl's name was Midna Celestine-Reinsworth. Right now she was the empress, the Imperial Majesty, of the Twilight Kingdom. This wasn't the case of a queen from a pauper. She was always a princess after all. Her sister had said that it was pointless worrying about the future. So that idea of one day becoming empress was as far from her mind as could be imagined. Midna had expected that it would be her sister that would become empress, but that possibility disappeared the night of the massacre.

Midna was a striking beauty now, her appearance a lot younger than her actual age by now. She had long hair of a fiery orange color. Her eyes were a shade of crimson many have said came from that night, though they were always that color. She was graceful in her appearance, even with having just awoken from a somewhat restless night's sleep.

The woman who woke Midna was also quite the beauty. Her facial features were sharp, yet her expression was gentle. She had long, slightly wavy, dark hair, and deep dark eyes that made her seem a bit mysterious, even compared to the mysterious Midna. This woman was Shahazael al-Rahaman. She was Midna's Chief of Staff, nicknamed Hazel by Midna. Hazel was almost a literal example of a ruler's right hand. Since the day Midna became empress, Hazel has been by her side. They spend so much time together few can think of one without thinking of the other. Hazel assists in much of Midna's professional duties to the Twilight Kingdom, managing her schedule, setting up her meetings, and acting as her general representative when Midna herself is otherwise preoccupied. In Midna's personal life they are best friends who share just about everything. It is to the point that Midna's children even refer to her a lot of the time as "aunt Hazel".

"Good morning, Hazel," Midna said, her speech slightly distorted while yawning. "You're timing is something this morning,"

"I see. Was it that dream again?" Shahazael asked. She got up from the bed and went to the window to open the curtains.

"You woke me right at the end," Midna replied. She got up as well and headed for the en suite bathroom, removing her nightgown along the way.

"That's fortunate then, isn't it?" Hazel chuckled, heading over to the closet. She walked in and started to remove some clothes.

"It's been a while since I had that dream," Midna called over the sound of the running shower.

"Is there a reason?" Shahazael called back from the closet.

"I wouldn't know,"

"Perhaps you shouldn't go to see that woman any more. She's never told you anything of importance; I don't see why she would suddenly,"

"I can faintly remember her. Talking to her helps me remember my sister, so it's fine,"

"There's no point complaining, is there?"

"I've already made up my mind,"

"So stubborn," Shahazael said quietly to herself.

By the time Midna was through with her shower Shahazael had selected three outfits for her to wear. Shahazael was at the door, receiving a report from another member of the queen's government. Midna was nearly half dressed once Shahazael wrapped up her conversation and closed the door again.

"Is something the matter?" Midna asked.

"No. It seems the hostilities on the western border have come to an end. I've been informed that the enemy has agreed to a cease fire and to the start of negotiations,"

"That's a relief. I was preparing to send our new unit over that way,"

"I've told you this before; I think it's too reckless to put both Selvaria Bles and Alicia Melchiott in the same unit. Those two tend to fight so much… Furthermore they're among our most powerful fighters. Deploying them together to a battlefield is borderline insanity, meaning we're diminishing the strength of the squad altogether,"

"On the contrary, that squad is our final bargaining chip. Everything you said is basically right, but that's what makes it an especially effective unit. Most of our enemies would relent at hearing those two are heading their way. And the rest of the squad aren't a bunch of slouches either. It's enough to scare the enemy into submission,"

"You shouldn't say final, not when you have at least one other force on your side. Then there is you of course,"

"That is true. I misspoke slightly. What else do we have to do for the day?"

"There are about twenty minutes before breakfast with your children. Anehara still hasn't called or been home so Hildegarde is going to the school to see how she's doing a little later. It's not a big deal, but I know you worry about her from time to time,"

"It's just that if you don't check on her every few days she could end up trapped in a maze of her own trash and work,"

"Speaking of work, Alita won't be returning for a few days,"

"I sometimes wish I hadn't let her work there,"

"You're really worried aren't you? But she shouldn't be doing anything too dangerous this time around. I've heard her mission is a simple raid on a low-level cell that hasn't managed to connect with a larger cell yet,"

"I know she'll be fine, but I can't seem to stop worrying about her when she goes out,"

"You're a much kinder woman than I suspect many see you,"

"Please don't start that again, Hazel,"

"Just a reminder. Let's see…" Shahazael said, picking up a small notebook from the dresser and flipping through a few pages. "Castor should be able to attend breakfast as well. After breakfast you should have approximately one hour before the official security briefing. That will be followed by an economic briefing. That one should last a little longer than normal because of the need to determine what concessions we will seek in the skirmish we talked about before. Afterwards you had promised to call you sister. I've set aside an hour for that. Following that will be lunch. You will have some free time after lunch, but this afternoon we will have to attend a small gala hosted by some business interests from Salles. Representatives from the Arima and Houjouin Lesser Duke Houses, and the van Hosen Grand Duke House, will be in attendance and offered the invitation. The Hazelrink house has not confirmed their attendance but it is likely they will attend. It would be rude to ignore at this point. It would also serve as a vote of confidence considering recent concerns over the vulnerability of the kingdom's nobles if the empress would show her face at these events once in a while.

"The gala should end with plenty of time remaining for you to return here to the palace for dinner with your children. After dinner you have some time set aside for reviewing paperwork, including a number of treaties and trade agreements. They will of course be placed in priority order, but none have any pending deadlines within the next week. That should be about it for today,"

"Another busy schedule today… alright, let's get going then," Midna said as she finished setting her hair. "Maybe my children can give me the will to tackle another long day,"