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Act I:

Kuroko Tetsumi

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The night sky ebbed away, as rays of light perforated through the blanket of darkness. This emanation was but a haze beyond the horizon. After all, the harbinger can never be permitted to surpass the host's grace. The sun took form of a blaring sphere of gold, as it ensconced itself on heaven's throne that is the sky's entire expanse. Its splendor chafed against the earth's surface – grazing the each shallow crevice, caressing each abode, combing through the vagrancy of the forest's canopy. However, within a dungeon settled deep within the ground's grasp, the only visible proof of this phenomenon's occurrence was a clock's hand that pointed towards the sixth hour of the day.

Powder-blue eyes were met by a certain lack of natural luminescence of the torches' flames. Her view featured a nexus of bright blurs, gradually registering themselves as fires on corpulent masses of candlewax. The spark's dim luster provided light for the entire room. Its walls were comprised of stacked cobblestones, with moss and grime thriving at each and every single one of its cracks and crevices. The presences of depressions were indiscriminate. The damage that held the most caliginous vibe was the miniscule rift on the gargantuan door – insignificant, yet distinct. The sight, in itself, harbored a certain void of hollowness. However, what struck her as unseemly was the area's scent. It had none.

This was Kuroko Tetsumi's coffin.

Here lied the pilfered memory of a being that was never meant to come into existence. She fed, breathed, moved. However, she was not living. Albeit her body persisted to conceive life, her memories of living had long absconded into the ghost of her past. She was but a wanton piece that is stuck on the chessboard of physical world.

Kuroko Tetsumi could only wait for the denouement.

She breathed in the stale air – its emptiness, widening the sensation of hollowness within her core. Each breath she took provided not relief that it originally entailed, but only an additional power to the unknown force that wanted to strangle her. Her body's mutiny never failed to serve as a hindrance, not like it did not serve as one before. She allowed her feet to take her weight, as she proceeded to advance towards the scant reservoir that is refilled sometime in her sleep, or not at all.

The interactions with her were minimized to none, ever since the escape. The accommodating handmaids were exonerated from their obligations by what she presumed as execution, and were replaced with obtuse behemoths. No worker was allowed within her quarters and doors were to remain locked, unless she was unconscious. Once the possibility of her defiance came into light, the persistence of the ones who kept her here was awakened. Her chances of escaping are as low, as it was blasphemous.

However, all she could do was to go on with this burden.

The tips of her fingers came in contact with the water's surface, sending tremors of displacement in its wake. The cold's trickle that used to unleash shivers with a single touch now roused only a dulled sensation. After all, she had long grown accustomed to cold.

She splashed the liquid across her face. A shiver dared not to follow. The remaining specs of slumber left her face, along with the droplets of water cascading down her skin.

A metallic cry resonated from the vicinity of the door, overlapping with dripping water's insidious tapping. It was feeding time.

She made her way towards the sound. The object it came from was a silver tray, where a single plate stood – all of which were free of her detestation; albeit, not the same could be said for the confection that lay atop it. It was but a solitary piece of meat that closely resembled that of a charcoal.

However, none of that mattered.

As soon as her knees hit the ground, she took the charred meat in her palms. Unlike what its appearance conveyed, it was cold. A familiar, yet an unwelcome bitterness dominated her mouth, as she barred her teeth into its surface. Although the prospect of vomiting the pathetic excuse for an edible source of nutrition seemed plausible, she could not.

See, the reason as to why she persists to induce these culinary hazards was the same as why she had not followed him to his fate: to honor his will.

Live.

A cry pierces through the gossamer of silence, accompanied by a thumping pain within her mind.

Live on.

Another scream. She fell face-first to the ground; its impact too eager to assist her migraine.

You have to live on.

Only when she felt a pang of pain in the back of her throat did she realize that the voice was hers. It sounded a lot different. Or was it like this before? She could not really tell. After all, she had long forgotten how her voice sounded as the sands of time waded away her recollection.

Stop thinking she urged herself, only to be answered with crimson that bade farewell behind half-lidded eyes – all of it but a faded memory. The pain it brought forth never lessened.

However, not a tear left her eyes.

Author's Ubiquitous Angst Zone:

I LIIIIIIIIIIIVE.

I sincerely apologize for the (not-so)fashionably late update! I do promise to do my best to update at least weekly. My list of excuses/reasons as to why goes on to the end of the universe times infinity squared. What. I don't even know anymore. School is destroying me and my fanfiction plans.

I've decided to cut the chapter short because I'm reaaaaaaaally exited on updating? The next part, where something actually occurs, will (probably) come up next week, unless I get tons of homework yet again. Augh. I swear. School.

Anyway yeaaaaaaahhhhh~

I appreciate comments and suggestions. Please do tell me if you spot any errors. My BETA reader is currently doing everything she can to abscond from my general periphery. Also, don't forget to fave/follow if you like it! : ]

Godspeed.