Prologue
I woke to darkness, utter and complete. How one would go about creating such an absence of light I do not know. I had not even thought it possible. Possible, the word is a lie, as well as the word impossible. The words stick in my throat. Neither does justice, they are too simple, too vague. My head is still fuzzy from my long sleep. Lying on a large comfortable bed I stretch my arms above me, yawning deeply, and trying to asses my position. I am clearly being kept in a cell, a bed in a cell?
That aside, I must find out where I am, and moreover, how I came to be here? Who could have done this, to me of all people? My eyes are beginning to adjust to the minimal lighting. Yes, lighting, it is coming from a miniscule window many feet above the barren floor. In the dim room no entrance or exit is visible from where I am except for the lone window. The two walls that create the corner my bed is in appear to be impossibly seamless and solid. I do not panic; I have been trained for situations such as these. I must be brave and logical.
There is something weighing down slightly on my shoulder, I can feeling it moving slowly through my thin shift. I glance over and can barely make out the silhouette of a very large spider. I am then dismayed to hear my shrill scream pierce the eerie silence of the cell as I shout the only thing I can think of to save me from the monstrous thing on my shoulder, "CIEL!".
No doubt Ciel would only admonish me for being scared. I am a master of various defensive arts, I am strong and agile and fast, but I am also a thirteen year old girl. How can he blame me for my fears, it was a pretty large spider. The thought of Ciel makes my cheeks grow warm and my eyes to sting. I miss him so much already. I cannot stop the sobs from wracking through my body or the tear that pool from my eyes and trace lines down to my chin. Oh Ciel! Grabbing a pillow from the bed I give way to the pain and sorrow. Letting it out will help me concentrate later, and I need my mind to be clear incase I have need to defend myself. Besides, crying is not very cute at all. I brush the spider of my shoulder cringing slightly at its hairy texture. I will not be be overwrought by a spider!
Why, I wonder again, would someone who spirited me away and locked me in a cell, provide me with a comfortable bed? I am a prisoner, am I not? And why allow me the lone window, an implausible hope of escape, so improbable it is torturous? Caught up in my thoughts I become oblivious to the world around me until a small warm hand grasps my trembling fingers. Looking down in shock my frenzied sobs subside. Following the tiny arm upwards I discover an equally tiny body, the body of a tiny girl. Wide innocent green eyes stare back at me from under a fringe of golden curls, identical to my own.
Through dry lips I manage only to stutter, my frustration with speaking building back up to panic. Before I can start crying again she simply puts her finger to her lips in a motion to be quiet and grabs my hand. Giving it a gentle squeeze she helps me rise to my feet and begins leading me away from the bed and into the darkness.