Prologue:

Illyasviel had not closed her eyes. She wished she had, as somehow her consciousness never fully drifted from her after the blonde man had reached into her chest and torn out her heart. At first, she didn't even feel pain. It was simply too overwhelming to register a 'feeling' at all. She slumped over, feeling visibly lighter as she found herself completely unable to move. She could only stare, without blinking, at her home that had been mostly destroyed. The home that, along with her two maidservants who were now dead, had raised her. The large, empty, cavernous mansion that felt like the emptiest place in all of existence.

So she waited. Because that was the only thing she'd ever done. Waited.

She'd waited for her father to finally come home. She'd waited for the horrifying visions and dreams of her 'mother' to stop. She waited to grow up and finally look like girls her age did. And now, appropriately, she waited to die. Right after finding Shirou, someone she thought she would hate because of everything he'd wrongfully stolen from her, but turned out to be the closest thing to what she yearned for all these years. There was a glimmer of hope. A possibility that maybe she wasn't condemned to this fate. Perhaps the Grail would never come to be, and perhaps she could finally break through the shackles of her isolation. Maybe she could go to school. Talk to other people. Study magic at the Clocktower. Or, conversely, maybe she could pursue a life without magic. Maybe that would be best. She knew the girl Rin went to school with Shirou, maybe she could be like her. Though, the prospect was intimidating. She couldn't imagine talking to a bunch of people she didn't know. Then again, she couldn't imagine talking to people she did know. She didn't know anyone.

She internally pleaded for it to be over. She wanted to finally die. Maybe that would grant her some solace. She wondered, did someone like her have a soul? Did it even matter? Would death, when it finally came, be painful? She was presently in enough pain as it was, she couldn't imagine it being any worse. The blood loss was immeasurable, and the initial shock had worn off as the crater in her chest throbbed with a searing, nerve-shredding, white-hot pain she didn't even think was possible for her to feel. How long would this take? Shiro and Rin left to pursue their adversary nearly an hour ago. Or was it hours? She couldn't make heads or tails of it when she really thought about it.

The sound of footsteps pierced her consciousness.

She had been there for a while, so any difference in her surroundings would stick out like a sore thumb. The only trouble here was that she couldn't see the source of the sound. Her head was turned in the opposite direction, and there was no way she'd be able to move. Instead, she simply lay there, mildly terrified of what could possibly happen next.

Was this the angel of death, finally there to take her away from this awful place? That was her best possible hope.

She felt a presence near her. It wasn't someone examining the wreckage of the Einzbern home, it was someone approaching her. In terms of the few people she knew, there just wasn't anyone left. Not to her knowledge anyway. She hoped that maybe it was Shiro and Rin, maybe coming back to say a final goodbye. That would've been nice.

"Illya, sweetheart… what's happened to you?"

The voice made a chill run down her spine. Even near death, she would never escape the horror of that sound. It was sweet, soft, feminine, melodious, and nothing on earth terrified her more.

A delicate hand ran its fingers along the side of her face.

"You're so cold…" the voice whispered.

She tried to speak. She tried to move. She'd long since given up on attempting either but this made her want to try again. It was to no avail though.

Two hands turned Illya over on her back, her body limply complying with the motions. It was there she saw the presence before her. A woman with silken white hair, piercing red eyes just like her own, a living doll that looked like it was made of porcelain. The face she'd seen in endless nightmares that had twisted and contorted itself in unimaginable ways.

Her mother.

She smiled at her daughter softly, tears forming in her eyes. Was this some sort of trick? Had Illya already died? Was this her fate?

"I'm so sorry," she said, the tears pouring from her eyes as she visibly choked back a sob.

This wasn't right. What was this? This woman before her… it wasn't the spirit that had tormented her for years on end. It was something different. Something she hadn't seen before, and yet it was familiar.

Was this…?

"I owe you so much more than this," Irisveil said, pausing as she found herself unable to speak, "I love you, Illya,"

She pulled up her daughter into a tight embrace. Illya croaked out a noise that signaled her utter shock, unable to do anything more. She couldn't return the hug, but she felt the closeness of her mother. The warmth. The thing she had dreamed about for years. And still, here she was, unable to reciprocate the gesture.

What was happening?

Her mother became encased in a brilliant, glowing light that nearly blinded Illya. Her unblinking stare forced to reckon with the sheer magnitude and brilliance of it. Irisveil clutched at her daughter even tighter, never wanting to let her go. She didn't want this to be the end, and she would've done anything for it not to be.

But it was.

She found solace in that moment. Peace, of some kind, no matter how bittersweet. She shut her eyes tightly, afraid just as her daughter had been at what would come next. The fear of blinking out of existence clawed at her, but not nearly as much as the joy she felt at finally seeing Illya.

Illya was overwhelmed as the light that erupted from her mother seemed to overtake and swallow her. A surge throughout her body could be felt, a warmth like no other. She was finally allowed to shut her eyes as the light seemed to pour into the hole in her chest, overwhelming her as the pain and stillness seemed to evaporate. Her consciousness was flooded with an overload of stimuli of all kinds. Every nerve felt as if it were exploding, a wall of sound felt like it was crushing her and would make her deaf, it almost felt like she was being torn apart.

And then, nearly as abruptly as it came, it was gone. Silence.

Illya found herself flat on her back, but now with the sudden wherewithal to sit up and move. She jolted upright, looking around to see if anyone else was there. She found herself alone in the empty room, shaking and terrified at whatever had just transpired.

"M-Mom?" she pitifully squeaked as she found herself able to talk.

She placed her hand on where her wound had been. A wound that was no longer there. The blood caked her outfit and skin still, but there was no longer a scratch on her.

Illya could do nothing but sit there, utterly mystified and entirely confused. She had no idea what had just happened, and emotionally, it was far too much to have any specific response. It was all just more than she could handle.

A tear trickled down her cheek. It felt icy as if it would drop from her chin and turn to a snowflake when it's contact with her skin ceased.

She was alive.

Illyasviel Von Einzbern had survived the Fifth Holy Grail War.


Zouken Matou sat in his study, swirling a glass of whisky in his hand as he watched the dark liquid ease itself around the large, singular piece of ice he'd placed inside it. He'd had a few that evening, which was uncharacteristic of him. He didn't drink, normally. His diminished senses and unique metabolism meant that alcohol did very little for him, and yet there was a primal edge that was taken off by it.

He was seething, still. His plan to win the Holy Grail war had yet again fallen through. The Tohsaka girl proved to be faulty, just like her uncle. At least Kariya had the decency to curl up and die so Zouken didn't have to trouble himself with him any further.

Zouken hadn't kept close enough tabs on the other participants to get a full picture of what exactly happened. He was far too focused on making sure things on his end were secure. The Grail War had always been a disaster. A sordid affair full of heroes and scoundrels of all shapes and sizes, all with ideals and values and loads of other nonsense that did nothing but complicate matters. He was in it for the prize, as any sensible mage would be. All the talk of heroics and honor bored him, which made him happy he was little more than an observer because it did nothing but irritate him. The rules of the Grail War always ended up being broken, there were always double-standards or exceptions, and it made playing this particular game feel like four-dimensional chess where every contestant was blindfolded. Ridiculous.

The girl hadn't shown herself back at his estate. He didn't know how or why, as she was bound to him. At least, she had been. Maybe she'd grown strong enough to be free of him, but that much felt unlikely if she still wasn't strong enough to win. He couldn't locate her, so maybe she'd died in the conflict along with that useless fool Shinji. Another asset lost. Shame.

The door to his study opened, breaking the night ambience of the fireplace and his much-desired solitude. He'd told the servants not to disturb him, which furthered his already irritable state. He didn't want to have to punish someone, it was too much work, but a target to take out his frustrations on… that would've been something.

He turned in his desk chair to see a surprising sight in his doorway. It wasn't the Tohsaka he had on his mind the past week, but instead the other. The sister.

She stood in the doorway dressed rather unusually. An entirely black outfit that didn't look at all in keeping with what someone her age would've worn. A black turtleneck sweater, black cargo pants, boots, and even fingerless gloves. Her hair had been tied into a ponytail behind her head, and her aquamarine eyes blazed in his direction even with the relatively minimal lighting in the room.

"How the hell did you manage to get in here?" Zouken asked, more amused than annoyed.

Rin scoffed.

"I'm here now. Does that really matter?" she asked.

The girl always had an intense aura about her. She spoke with venom and contempt, understandably so. She was a girl who couldn't possibly understand her father's sacrifice in giving away her sister to Zouken. She may have been a proud mage, but she understood nothing when it came to the importance of the continuation of legacy. In her position, she should have, but this new generation of magi was hopeless.

"I suppose not," Zouken mused, "Judging by that getup you aren't here for friendly conversation,"

She sneered.

"No, I'm not," she said, carefully closing the door behind her as she stepped closer to the man.

He cackled, setting down his glass on his desk and properly facing her, still not bothering to get out of his chair.

"Ohoho look at you," he said, "Survive one Grail War and all of a sudden you fancy yourself an assassin?"

She looked at him with as much contempt as anyone had. Not even Kariya had eyes as harsh as hers. In fact, she bore a startling resemblance to her uncle at that moment. Zouken briefly wondered if Rin even remembered the man.

"So you've come to kill me then?" he asked, "Alright, out with it. Why? Revenge?"

Rin took several steps forward, face harder than stone, walking around Zoukan's centuries-old ornate wooden desk, and stood nearly a few feet from him. He sized her up, and as soon as the two made direct eye contact, Rin Tohsaka spat in his face.

Never in a million years would Rin have seen herself doing something so vulgar and undignified, but the last few weeks had changed her in more than a few ways.

"I don't owe you an explanation," she said, pointing at Zouken's face and raising her thumb upward.

A gemstone from a pouch attached to her belt sprang forward, floating in front of her finger as it shone with a bright purple light. A curious armament, but an effective one. Magical jewels were expensive items that typically barred most mages from mastering them, but not her.

"You think you can just walk in here and expect me not to put up a fight?" Zouken growled, "What makes you think I won't kill you right now?"

She smirked. She smirked in a way that made Zouken livid.

"Because you like to hear yourself talk too much to get to the point," she said, "And because you're too stupid to realize drinking the same bottle of whisky every night leaves you susceptible to poisoning,"

Zouken's eyes widened. He gripped the glass in his hand tightly.

"You're bluffing," he said, a bead of sweat rolling down his forehead.

"Am I?" Rin asked with an insufferable grin.

He looked at his glass and back at the girl. He felt no different than he had any other night he had consumed the drink. Surely he hadn't had enough to kill him yet. He would've noticed that.

"If I knew how to get in here without setting off any alarms, totally under the radar, what makes you think I couldn't have done it all last night after you went to bed at… approximately 11:45?" she asked, assumingly rhetorically.

Zouken had enough already. This young woman was playing games with him. He didn't need anything but his mind to effectively utilize his magic circuits. He attempted to move a tome on the bookshelf behind her and hit her on the back of the head. As he contracted on it, just as he had done hundreds of times before, he struggled.

Nothing happened.

"Having trouble?" she asked, seeing him furrow his brow.

His hatred for the girl burned hotter, hotter than it had for anyone in years.

"What have you done, girl?" he asked, voice crackling with fury.

"The poison won't kill you. But it will dull your magical circuits for about two hours, making you entirely useless," she remarked with a frighteningly casual air.

His gaze narrowed. What was her gain here?

"Why not just poison me then, hm?" he asked, partially fearing her answer.

She chuckled.

"So I can do this," she said.

She pointed her finger not at Zokan's head, but now his left kneecap. Without hesitating, she fired the stone like a bullet from a gun into his knee. Before the old mage could fully howl in pain, another stone was telekinetically summoned from her pouch, and she fired it into his other knee.

Zouken hissed in agony, but in his pain, didn't realize Rin had leaned forward and grabbed him by his shirt collar. She lifted him up as though he was a feather, and tossed his weakened body over the desk and onto the floor. Rather than wailing in pain, he propped himself up on one arm and gazed at the girl who was now walking towards him like a predator about to finish off its prey.

"So Sakura is dead, then?" he hissed.

Rin stopped, cocking an eyebrow.

"Sakura is..." she trailed off momentarily, "None of your concern anymore, pig,"

She continued her advance, and Zouken froze. He couldn't move even if he wanted to, but he was mostly just paralyzed out of fear. He had spent so much of his centuries-old existence prideful and assured of his power, so much so that he never had to fear death. Now he was looking it straight in the face.

"I would have poisoned you, but you deserved worse for what you did to her," she said, "If I didn't have to be quick about this, and if I wasn't so eager to be rid of you, I would've made this last a lot longer. Believe me, I've been thinking about plenty of ways to do it these past few weeks,"

Zouken laughed. Not out of character for him, but it was transparently a facade.

"Is that it, then? Because I made your sister a stronger mage?" he asked.

"You tormented her. You… you violated her. You let your disgusting grandson hurt her. You're a pathetic old fuck," she said, her voice nearly breaking when she spoke of Sakura.

"Pathetic, am I?" he said, nervous laughter ensuing as his blood began to pool, "I'm one of the oldest, more powerful men in the world. Even if you manage to kill me, you can't erase what I achieved. What the Matou clan has done. What we've given to our kind,"

Another gem floated in front of Rin, and she pointed her finger straight at his head.

"A pathetic man in his last moments trying to justify his own miserable existence. You're a cancer on this world," she said.

His laugh became a bit of a wheeze.

"A man who still ruined your life. Destroyed your family ever since that miserable uncle of yours wanted to play hero," he said, struggling with every word.

Rin paused for a moment.

"Tell me," he continued, "What does that make me, then? If I am pathetic… if I am a cancer, what are you? So weak you were ruined by the likes of me? Call me what I am girl, a man powerful enough to have toppled regimes and dethrone kings that you managed to get one lucky opportunity to defeat. If I'm pathetic, then you are a worm. Your sister is nothing! I am the head of the Matou clan! I am more powerful than any other man in this world! I was able to bend you, your wretched father, your stupid sister, your bitch mother, and even you to my whim with nothing more than words! What does all that make me? Hm?"

It really was no more than desperation. Rin saw the pain in his eyes. The fear. Maybe even a shade of regret that faded as soon as it was detected. In his last moments, he was merely fishing for an acknowledgment. A desperate plea that his hardships had been worth something.

A plea that would go unanswered.

Rin sighed, and then cracked a sly smile. She fired the gem straight into Zouken Matou's head. It traveled at top speed right between his eyes, leaving a hole the size of a thimble in his head that began to leak blood as soon as his body crumpled to the floor.

"It makes you a waste of my time," Rin said as she walked past the corpse of the Matou patriarch, delivering another spiteful spit onto his corpse as she left the room, disappearing from the estate.