〖 A Prequel Story of the It Could Only Be Fate Series 〗
The Assassin of Flowers
〖 PRELUDE 〗
Bud
Dazzling lights – colors flitting through like soft bubbles of sparks in the room.
The blossoming of flowers – the fragrance engulfing and warm.
People – dancing and laughing, their voices a distant buzz.
Music – its tune telling a tale of bright days to come.
(Everything feels like a dream.)
She walks amidst the ongoing party, carefully threading through the sea of people.
Nobody seems to see her, or merely pays her no attention in favor of the celebration everyone is indulgently partaking in.
Her expression is placid, and her eyes are distant.
Everything she sees is a blur, everything she hears is dead to her ears.
Everything is so familiar, but at the same time, everything is so foreign.
She feels as if she does not belong here.
After all, this party held inside the castle was meant for the high society in the country. The aristocrats of Arzil. Her mother's kindred people.
She yearns to go outside the castle grounds, where the rest of the – her – people are.
She yearns to see the starry night with them, dance around the bonfire with them, and perhaps meet other children, perform the Flower Dance with them and laugh under the shower of petals with them.
But alas, she is powerless against her mother's command.
"You are forbidden to leave this castle while the party is going on. It's not safe outside, do you understand?"
"Y-yes, Mother."
Strange, because she strongly feels that it would feel much safer outside, out in the open air and shining sky.
The music plays still, and it sounds a bit melancholy – bittersweet.
Just like what she's feeling.
(Everything feels like a prison.)
She stops in the middle and turns toward the window to her left. She places a hand on the tinted glass, and looks down at the world outside just beyond her reach.
The Flower Dance had already begun, the children from all over the country dancing and laughing with joy as the petals fell all around them like colorful rain.
The Flower Dance was a part of Arzil's tradition during the celebration of Elauna. It was said that the Goddess herself once sprinkled flower petals upon the country, bestowing her blessings of eternal prosperity on its land and people. This is her homage, and the natives always believed that children who partake in the dance received abundant blessings and grow to be very fortunate and highly successful.
She had never experienced it before – and probably never will – but she thinks that it doesn't really matter. It made little difference. She had always been unfortunate.
Her heart aches – always has been – and she closes her eyes tightly.
Perhaps, she decides, it might be better to return to the room where she had been originally – hidden – kept. There, she would patiently wait for her mother's return, bringing with her another of her clients.
She feels a little better thinking about it. That had been the silver lining in her life, or specifically, the power she possessed. It made her happy, gave her a sense of purpose, whenever she uses her power for her mother's sake.
Another task completed would surely please her mother, maybe pleased enough to let her go outside…
She shakes her head at the encompassing thought, feeling a little bit ashamed. She knew she existed for her mother's purpose – as what she has always been told –, not the other way around.
Slowly she turns her back from the warmth that the world outside the window – promised – emitted. Reluctantly she left.
She blends into the party once again. Everything seemed much distorted than before.
The music continues to play, the tune soft and heartbreakingly beautiful.
She unconsciously pauses at the middle of the crowd, and allowed a moment to close her eyes, savouring the pleasant humming sensation in the air.
Through the duration of the night – and perhaps even in her life – this was the first time she felt relaxed, the first time she felt at peace.
(Everything feels…)
She felt it before she even saw it.
The pleasant feeling she initially felt thumped and writhed into something unpleasant. Something sinister.
It was small, unnoticeable, invisible even, but it was there. She couldn't tell where it came from, but the shocking sensation it brought felt like someone just jabbed her in the ribs.
Her eyes opened in alarm, her shoulders jolting in fright.
She looked around and the feeling disappeared. No one seemed to notice it but her. Everyone was still talking animatedly, some dancing to the music that she didn't notice changed into something much festive and upbeat.
She sighed in relief, ironic that she was somehow comforted by the very environment she despised. 'It must have been my imagination', she thinks, but inside her heart was still racing.
Once again everything reverted into a blur. The people moving patches of colors, the music a low drone in her ears.
(Everything feels normal.)
She turns around, now determined to return to her designated room, only to freeze on the spot.
In this world of blurred colors and distorted noise, he was the only thing that she saw with perfect clarity.
Her eyes had been instantly drawn to him, this boy who could not be older nor younger than her.
At that moment, everything seemed to flow in a state of slow motion. She found that she couldn't take her eyes off of him.
He moved like a ghost, silent and unnoticed, weaving in and out through the plethora of people like how she had once done before. The only difference was that there was a sort an otherworldly quality in the way he moves, the way he looks, with his casual gait and his hands hidden in his pockets.
His posture suggested he was looking straight ahead, although his head was angled downward. And she found this strange, for how can he see where he's heading to, and how did he navigate with such smooth elegance when his eyes are hidden behind his long, silver fringe bangs?
The fact that she couldn't see his eyes unsettled her, but he took her breath away when he walked underneath the chandelier. His silver hair shone under the light, the vibrant flowers of the flower crown he wore bearing a stark contrast against his diaphanous locks. Everything else in between about him was either pale or white.
He looked entirely like an angel to her. An ethereal novelty.
He was drawing closer and closer, and despite her intense and unabashed observation, he didn't seem to notice her attention.
Her breath caught in her throat when they were but a mere 12 inches apart. She didn't even see him shuffle pass her when she blinked.
Everything about him was unbelievable. He left her staggering to comprehend his existence that she would be convinced if he's nothing more but a mirage that her mind made up at the peak of her loneliness.
But then his shoulder brushed against hers.
It was light and barely grazed her, but that split-second contact was enough to send an electric current surging through her body.
For a second her heart roared in her ears, for a second her temperature dropped and collided with the heat that rose in her veins, for a second the two of them were the only people in the room filled with nothingness and sublime silence.
It was a second of eternity.
Time snapped back to the present.
Everything reverted back to the clear and lively atmosphere after he appeared and disappeared from her line of sight.
For a moment she wavered, blinking twice, thrice, like waking up from a dream.
She whipped around to where he was heading off to, suddenly worried if that had been real. Relief and astonishment filled her when she saw him with his back turned to her.
How strange that had been, that hazy sensation she felt. Now that it's gone, she became aware of something she hadn't realized before.
That silver haired boy was wearing the traditional white Arzillian costume that a child must wear when he participates in the Flower Dance.
Curiosity overpowered the initial envy she felt that he could participate in the event. She was certain that she just saw the Flower Dance commence outside – and judging from the laughter and noise it hasn't ended yet – so if he is part of those children, why was he here? Why is he inside the castle where no one but Arzil's aristocrats and distinguished guests are allowed? And if he had been an aristocrat's child, shouldn't he be outside?
(Curiosity kills the cat.)
A frown formed between her eyebrows. She'd follow him, she decides.
She quickly followed suit, keeping a close eye as to not lose him in the crowd, murmuring quick apologies to those she bumped into in her haste.
Anxiety began to grow and palpitate the closer she gets. She knew that she should go back to where she was intended, but if she stops now, she gets the feeling she'll never see him again, this mysterious, fascinating boy.
She should've been alarmed at how easily he overrode her priorities. He was compelling her in the likeness of a moth drawn to a flame, or perhaps a helpless captive seeing the exit to a maze.
She stares at his retreating figure and dismisses her silly thoughts.
Perhaps he is lost, she tells herself. If that's the case then she would gladly show him around. But then she remembers the way he moved, and a lost person would never look so calm as he did.
He moved with purpose – every step elegant and precise – and it had occurred to her then that he was there for a reason. A reason she could only fathom until she sees it for herself.
She's made up her mind. She was going to follow him wherever he may go in this place if it meant freedom from the miserable routine and boredom she's trapped in, even for a little while.
However, it began to grow increasingly difficult to not lose sight of the boy. The people seemed to increase in number, making it hard for her to keep a steady eye on him and push through with her small frame. The boy on the other hand, seemed to have no trouble moving amidst the horde of people as he moved further and further away from her.
His silver hair and flower crown, his most distinguishable features that she could see, her guiding star among the crowd of moving colors, was beginning to look far away from her reach.
She was losing him, and just when she stood on her toes to see where he's headed to, he disappeared. She tried to locate him but it was no use.
In a fit of despair she squirmed and burst through the mob, stumbling unto her knees when she hurled herself forward. She heard a woman's cry of protest from her left and someone calling her from behind but ignored them when she caught a glimpse of his figure.
She immediately turned her head only to see him exiting through the door, his silver hair swaying from the flow of his actions was the last thing she saw of him before the door closed completely.
She dashed forward and nearly tripped when she almost ran over a guest that suddenly passed by in front of her, earning a glare that she paid no heed to.
Finally she was at the door, and with small hands gripping the handles, tugged it open.
Nervous and out of breath, she peeked outside and looked from left to right, expecting to see his figure any second now. To her surprise and utter discouragement, the hallway was empty and quiet with a ghostly ambiance.
She pulled away from the door and stood lost marvelling at the mystery. Where had he gone? She was on to him a moment ago but now he's nowhere to be seen. How did he manage to move so fast?
Who is he?
Her personal butler and instructor who had been calling her from behind back at the ballroom finally caught up to her. She was instantly filled with contrite, remembering that not only did she leave her room without her mother's permission, but also failed to adhere to her butler's condition of not deviating from his sight when he allowed her a limited amount of time to roam and explore the party.
Her butler eventually asked what had caused her to run off on her own, and while she has never lied to him, she just couldn't bring herself to tell him about the mysterious boy with the silver hair. To her relief, he dropped the issue, along with bringing her time of leisure to an end.
The events that transpired after she was found passed like a strip of film fleeting across her half-lidded eyes like faded motion pictures. She was returned to her designated room without her mother finding out that she had actually snuck out.
(Everything is normal again…)
(…but not everything stays the same.)
That night, the peaceful world she knew shattered.
That night, she got to know the color of blood – red like the flowers of Obiores (the Arzil god of Death).
That night, she never felt so alive – following the trail of liquid crimson that led her to the silver haired assassin.
That fateful night, the third Heiress of the Cariona family met the Heir of the Zoldycks.