Note: When I first posted this story, I didn't think anyone would be reading it so I just checked this recently. Thank you for all your reviews, I appreciate all of them! I'll continue to make an effort updating this now. Thank you for your patience.

**Title has been changed and chapter one has been updated with some adjustments. If you have time, please re-read/skim over the first chapter.

Chapter Two

It was just after dawn.

The clouds above rolled with pink and orange hues like waves on the Great Sea; small slivers of gaps formed between them, where the sun, taking advantage of the fact, extended its rays. One ray hit the main road of a large capital, flittering north and pausing when it fell upon the vast face of four stone walls. There, sitting behind the protection of those walls, was the Sky Palace of Fuuka.

The Sky Palace itself was a complex of buildings. In the center, there was the main palace—the Sun Palace—where the First Queen and the King resided; surrounding the enormous structure were two lesser palaces — the Moon, where the Second Queen lived, and the Star, home of the Third Queen. Each was cradled between expansive, stretching gardens and sweetly scented man-made ponds.

The ray of sunlight flickered slightly before moving once more. It danced on the roof of the Star Palace almost mischievously before traveling towards another building, this one much farther out from the others. The light landed on the building's large pair of polished doors, only to be all but snuffed out as the clouds moved above.

The doors belonged to the Great Archive, a building whose origins dated back a century after the appearance of the First Flower; it's original purpose being to house a revered set of writings known as The Gift of Flowers—the first historical texts of Fuuka, written in a language that now only a rare few still spoke. Through the later years, it had grown into a library of enormous proportions, which now was home to thousands of various books—history, mythology, finance, agriculture—and roomed a thousand and one scholars.

It was inside, past the labyrinth of texts, and up the hundreds of steps to the highest floor, in a room called the Master's Study that a young man dressed in red robes now sat, staring out through a large window.

The young man's name was Reito Kanzaki, the first and only son born in what was currently the seventeenth generation of scholars. He had a tall, graceful stature and a handsome face, framed by dark hair that reached his ears. His grey eyes—whose depths looked as if they belonged to a man not in his late twenties but to someone much older—narrowed in contemplation as he stared at the glasslike surface of a nearby pond.

If only he could reflect that stillness into his mind, Reito thought. These days, he felt as if there was a tightly wound rope pulling at the back of his thoughts; it twisted and twisted with every academic study he had been reading lately, and the somber truth echoing through them all: there was something strange happening, something wrong with the flowers—the beloved moonlits.

But despite all his readings, he had yet to figure out why. The flowers seemed to wilt in the most random of places, without any rhyme or reason. From the most recent reports, the soil samples had been fine; nothing was out of the ordinary. He placed a hand to his chin, his eyes thoughtful. It really did seem like nothing was out of the ordinary. In fact, despite the flowers dying and the warnings of failing harvests, there seemed to be no sense of urgency, no real direct orders from the royal family to find out why.

"I wonder," the man said to no one in particular, as if it was the first time it had ever occurred to him, and not the seventh. Even so, he had a feeling he wouldn't find the answer any time soon; the Council had given him a fair share of other work to do. He stared down at the stack of papers lying on the desk in front of him and picked them up. The first sheet was an old hand drawn map depicting a small piece of land in the middle of a vast sea; detailed images of mountains and rivers were painted in specific spots and the names of a few villages and towns were carefully inked in.

Fuuka, the land of peace and prosperity, Reito thought, amused, remembering the words from a book he once read as a boy.

He thumbed through the rest of the papers, his eyes slowly growing with disinterest as he took in the flat planes of white, filled with nothing but blocks of inked words. Then the scholar closed his eyes and, in an uncharacteristic move, slumped forward ever so slightly. How dull. It seemed as if all he would be doing in the next few days would be nothing more than mindless paperwork.

Grey eyes opened once more and the scholar absentmindedly pressed a finger against the small, dark mark on the side of his neck. It was a Kiss for one who had been gifted with the extraordinary ability to memorize and recall all things read, learned, and seen without error; an eidetic memory. His late father had told him it was the perfect Kiss to make the perfect scholar, but the older man had never known him well. If his father had seen who his son truly was, Reito had no doubt the man would have been disappointed. Still, despite his flaws, the Kiss had allowed him to succeed, and he had taken over as the Master Scholar after his father had passed a few years prior.

Master Scholar.I wonder if my father ever thought it was a dull job. Reito smiled and shook his head. Knowing him, never.

There was a soft, whisper-like knocking on the room's large oak door, and Reito glanced in its direction. It was still quite early even for the other scholars — there were still a few more hours before he expected anyone to come looking for him.

"You may enter."

A few moments passed, and it was all but silent.

Reito stood from his seat and moved toward the door, pausing briefly mid stride when he saw that an envelope was now sitting on the floor in front of it. And was that the faint sound of retreating footsteps?

He picked up the envelope, flipping it over, eyes tracing its surface for any hint from who it may have come from. . Even so, he still had an inkling of who had delivered the letter. One of Yamada's messengers, no doubt.

He carefully opened the note, brows arching in surprise at the object nestled within. It was a small flower, colored the lightest of purples. It had been delicately placed in a fine, expensive cloth, and it was clear that whoever had wrapped the flower did it with the utmost care.

He placed the flower in a pocket in his robe. There was only one place where this could have come from.

Well, well, he thought, lips tugging into a small smile. What an unexpected surprise. Without even the slightest glance of the work sitting on his desk, he left the room.

It was only a few minutes later that he found himself riding in a carriage. He laced his fingers in his lap on top of the small brown bag he had brought with him, and as he sat, he let his mind wander, eyes gazing out the window. Where he was going would be far in the outskirts of the capital, and it would be a good while until he reached his destination. His mind slowly filled with questions and wondering, so much so that even when they arrived, he did not move to exit the carriage until a good moment later. And even then, after the carriage had left, he found that he still had to will himself to focus on the present.

He took in the structure in front of him. The once pristine white walls of the building were now stripped to the color of rotting wood, and the large stained glass windows collapsed within themselves, making way for nature's growth to pass through; vines and leaves coated the outside and reached within the holes. From where he stood, he could almost see the memory of ghostly figures standing on its steps, waiting for the doors to open.

And to think this once used to be one of the many revered Sanctuaries in Fuuka, he thought. Sanctuaries, he remembered, had been places of light, places where the pain in your mind could be healed with simple platitudes; however, now at the sight of the building, most would have uttered a prayer of protection. After all, it was common knowledge that crossing a Sanctuary on your travels could only mean bad luck — the narrative had been pushed for so long that it had become reality.

Stories had twisted these buildings into myths, something out of an old wives tale or a nightmare, and just like that they disappeared, a history intentionally removed. Just like the Kissed that used to run them, he thought. Eibin's Voices.

Reito maneuvered his way through the broken door frame as gracefully as he could. All that was left of the inside was a decent sized hall, the sides lined with remnants of thick, wooden benches, and at the far end, up a few wide steps, stood a large stone altar. It was behind the altar that a woman stood, hands laid flat on the stone surface. Her eyes were closed, and her head tilted slightly ever so forward so that locks of light colored hair fell gently around the sides of her face. She was so, so still, it seemed to him that she could have been one of the many statues that used to be there, bound in that spot until nature took her and the four walls surrounding them with it.

Reito quietly took out the flower he had kept in his pocket and made his way to the altar. With every step he felt a tingle run up his arm, and although he could not see the woman's lips moving, he could have sworn he heard whispers. He stopped at the bottom of the steps and placed the flower on the rough surface in front of the woman's hands. It was an offering.

"A flower for Eibin," he said in a low voice.

At the words, the woman's eyes opened, revealing a shock of crimson color, her lips pulling into a mysterious smile. She placed a hand gingerly over the flower, as if the touch would crush it. Silence hovered in the air for a moment, and then she spoke.

"Through Eibin's will—" Reito closed his eyes as the woman's light voice danced in his ears, filling his head. At the sound of the third word he felt as if his mind no longer belonged to him; as if a hand had grasped it in its palm, so gently that it would not break, but firm enough so that he could not take it back. "—may you feel his love."

His mind started to burn. Slow at first, then stronger. Suddenly, he felt the burn turn to flame and the flame to an uncontrollable fire, burning so brightly, he felt as if the inside of his body would burst with light. It was suffocating, and yet he felt no pain, no suffering, just the sweet, sweet warmth of the light pulling him into an strangled embrace. It was almost a high—that feeling of being cleansed—and it was just as overwhelming then, when he had first felt it as a child, as it was now.

He felt the hand that had grasped his mind open, and a strange longing washed over him, almost loneliness, as the world around him faded back into place. A soft hum buzzed in his ears, almost as if he was slightly drunk, but he forced his eyes to focus, training his facial expression to show a calmness he did not quite feel.

The woman watched him patiently, as if she had seen the same reaction many times before, and her lips pulled into a fuller smile when Reito matched her gaze.

"And to think they say that all Eibin's Voices have been lost," Reito said, staring into the woman's disarming red eyes. He smiled. "Welcome back, Shizuru."

The woman chuckled softly. "I'm not entirely sure I'm glad to be back," she replied, moving from behind the altar and pulling her hand gently from where it had been resting on the flower. "But I am glad to see you doing well, Master Scholar Reito." There was a teasing in her voice as she said the last few words.

"Ah, that." Reito shook his head, still smiling. "Many things have changed since I last saw you three years ago. Not all for the better, I'm afraid."

"Oh? I do hope the other scholars aren't suffering too much under your care."

The man's smile turned into a small smirk. "To be honest I'm not sure who they hate more, myself or my father." The woman looked as if she wanted to answer, but instead just shook her head mirthfully with a smile. Reito continued, "As for you, what brings you back?"

Shizuru came down the steps, her black cloak trailing near her feet. "Oh my, I missed you, of course."

"Ah, I'm flattered," Reito said, flashing a small grin. He had known the woman long enough to tell that there was something else—there was always something else. "But I have to know, Shizuru, what do you need from me?"

The woman arched a brow, as if surprised at his direct question. He knew she wasn't. "Need?" she repeated, and cocked her head to the side, looking almost thoughtful. "Well, since you've asked, I was hoping you'd take me to the market district."

It was his turn to raise a brow. "The market district? So you've called me all this way so that I would whisk you away on a night of fun?"

"And will you?"

He watched the woman's face as she feigned a fragileness, as if she would crumble at any time if he were to reject her. It did anything but convince him. "Well I suppose I have no choice," he said, playing along. He knew she was still hiding something from him, but decided not to push. All in due time. Reaching into the brown bag he'd brought, Reito pulled out a bundle of civilian clothes. His smile slowly turned mischievous. "Anything for a beautiful lady."

The woman laughed.

Footsteps fell quickly in the Sun palace as a green-robed man made his way through the halls. The man's thick, puffed hair, and small wired glasses made him easily recognizable as the Great Healer Sakomizu, the royal family's personal medic. He had just given a report to the King on the Third Queen's health and was hurrying back, sparing little notice to the surrounding blooming trees as he made his way through the courtyard and gardens. Soon he came across a clear pond that separated the Sun from the Star palace.

The man stopped and sighed deeply. If one looked closely, they could see the dark patches that circled under the man's eyes—a clear sign of the lack of sleep or stress that he had most likely undergone during the past few weeks. And even now, he had no rest.

He had been discretely handed a message by one of the servants earlier, sent from one of the Third Queen's guards. The princess had been found alive, and was now being hidden in one of the many secret tunnels running underneath the capital. The man had felt the initial relief of someone expecting the worst, but now he wasn't so sure. He straightened his posture before walking across a small decorated bridge and into the connecting garden of the Star palace.

Although built in a similar fashion to the Sun palace, the Star palace was distinctly different. Unlike the vibrant shades of reds, golds, and greens that painted the Sun palace, the Star palace was colored with serene hues of blues and whites, each shade shimmering slightly as if dusted with gold; while the gardens at the Sun palace were allowed to grow unchained, twisting and growing to their full length, the ones surrounding the Star palace were trimmed and composed into a picture of manmade perfection. However, what made the Star palace most distinct was its silence and seemingly lack of human life, an atmosphere that made the building seem almost lonely.

The healer made his way deftly through the maze of sculptured plants until he spotted a pebbled path, this time leading to a destination he was sure to find another face: the Third Queen's quarters.

He inclined his head in a knowing greeting at the two guards standing at its steps, before passing them by into the building. The soft sound of footsteps filled the silence as the servants moved, quick and efficiently. They all dropped their heads at him as he walked past, giving a small nod of respect, before turning back to their work.

Sakomizu made his wall through the first hall, following the path, turning corner after corner until he stopped at a set of large, sliding doors. Another two guards were positioned in front, and they nodded at him in recognition, before rapping softly on one of the doors so quietly the green-robed man wasn't sure if anyone on the other side would have heard it. He was proven wrong when he heard a murmur coming from behind the doors, and they slid open, the space just large enough for him to move through. The man walked in, and the doors closed behind him.

Two attendants who had been standing near the entrance moved back to their post at the foot of a large, extravagant bed, where a woman lay, dressed in equally lavish robes. She was thin, too thin, and pale to the point that the healer was sure that many might have mistook her as dead.

As if sensing a change in movement, Healer Sakomizu quickly bowed his head, being careful not to let the glasses perched on his face fall to the ground.

"Great Healer Sakomizu," the woman rasped. It was a painful sound.

Healer Sakomizu kept his eyes trained on his feet. "Third Queen," he greeted. "Your majesty, how are you feeling? I'm glad to see that the color seems to be returning to your skin." He winced at his own words, knowing that was a lie. "We've been working on a new medicine — it seems to be very promising."

The woman on the bed said nothing, her eyes still closed. After a while, she took a deep breath. "What news have you?"

The healer glanced at the two attendants. Both loyal, he thought, before lowering his voice to almost a whisper. "The princess has been found alive. Right now she is being kept in the east most tunnel under the capital."

"And what of the men meant to kill her?"

"Dead," the man reported. "It seems that they were cut down. One of your guards trailing them said that he saw the figure of a woman leave the site."

"A woman?" The Third Queen sounded curious.

"Yes, but by the time they collected the princess, the other had disappeared."

"No witnesses then."

The healer nodded. Realizing that the woman probably still had her eyes closed, he quickly replied. "Yes. No witnesses."

For the next few moments, there was nothing but the sound of haggard breathing. He peeked up at the other figure. She hadn't moved from her original position, eyes still closed and face still looking upward, but he could tell she was thinking.

"And what from Artai?"

"It seems as if the kingdom of Artai is willing to grant the princess asylum," the man said. The name of the country left a slightly sour note on his tongue. He never quite learned to trust that kingdom. He had met the ruler only once when he was training to be a medic. It had been a meeting that lasted no more than thirty seconds, but he felt that the smile on the face of Artai's king that day was almost sinister. I guess it couldn't have been helped, he thought. They say that Uthar, the god that Artai revered, had no love within him.

The Third Queen's voice broke his thoughts, sounding a little bolder than before. "Find that woman — the one who killed those men. Give her an offer she can't refuse."

Sakomizu looked up. "You can't mean to have that woman take the princess to Artai—" The man stopped abruptly, knowing he had overstepped his position. He dropped his eyes. "Forgive me, your majesty, but I have to respectfully disagree. We have trusted men who would give their lives for you. Why not have them take her instead?"

"Those men are weak, even you know that," the woman replied. "They know nothing of the world, only luxuries." It was true that most of the queen's guards were born noble of some kind. "They wouldn't last where I'd be sending them. They would be more useful here."

The healer tried to sound convincing. "But to trust a stranger—even the princess would be safer here. At least we know where the wolves are."

The Third Queen opened her eyes, looking down at blue veins tracing her skin with bitterness. "What difference does it make, living here and dying?"

It was silent. The man did not reply.

"Now leave me." The voice sounded small, kind almost.

Sakomizu sighed inwardly.

"As you wish."