Disclaimer: I do not claim the rights to Star vs. the Forces of Evil nor any of the characters that appear in the show. They are the property of Daron Nefcy and Disney. I do, however, claim the rights to any original characters that may appear in this story as well as the plot, and would kindly ask for permission should you want to include any of the story elements in your own works.

Star vs. the Forces of Evil: New Dawn

Prologue

Sunrise

Pale morning sunlight streaked through the open ripple fold curtains of the large rectangular bedroom chamber, reflecting off the embroidered man-sized mirror suspended on the righthand side of the room next to the dark rosewood closet where the young teenage girl kept most of her attire. She lay in her large queen-sized bed that, frankly, could have easily accommodated at least ten more people, although she would probably have declined the offer if anyone asked her to share it. She'd grown a bit spoilt, she had to admit. Slowly opening her eyes, she sat upright on the soft woollen mattress that may as well have been a puffy cloud and she stretched thoroughly, relishing the feeling of her joints loosening. Wasting no time, she tossed the luxury gold-embroidered blanket to the side and rushed to the mirror where she gave herself a good look and frowned. As usual, her purple hair was a complete mess! Irritated, she ran the red comb through her long hair for a good ten minutes before it finally gave way and hung loosely down her back. She then made her way over to the rosewood closet and chose her clothing for the day: a traditional blue Mewman dress, with her own personal touches here and there that included wider sleeves that hung loosely and flowers swimming amid the blue fabric. To her absolute horror, the changes that were initially met with scoffs and distasteful glares were beginning to catch on amongst fellow Mewman nobility. Seriously, why did everyone and their grandmother want to copy the attire of the royal family? It was just clothing for Pete's sake!

Glossing over herself one final time, she gave a nod, apparently satisfied with her appearance and stored the comb in the drawer below the mirror, then sat out into the massive hallway leading to the dining room and dozens more rooms throughout the castle. Arriving at the nearest window, she glanced out to see the young sun creeping over the horizon's edge. She smiled. As usual, she was the first person awake, excluding the cooks making breakfast in the kitchen several stories beneath the hallway, and the royal guards posted around each corner, although they functioned more out of precaution than a necessity; her mother always did like playing things safe, even when the need was absent. Either way, waking before everyone else meant that she had practically all of the castle to herself, and none of her usual chaperones would be there to pester her.

She gave a nod as she passed the royal guards and rounded a corner, and as soon as she saw the coast was clear, she did the one thing no princess was ever supposed to do: she ran through the giant halls as fast as her feet would carry her, each footstep resonating with the stone tiles beneath her feet. She knew she'd get a talking to from her tutors were she caught behaving in such an unruly manner, but hey, that rule was stupid anyway, so she was willing to take the risk. And besides, she enjoyed running and having an additional risk behind it made it all the more interesting. As she rounded another corner, she bumped into something and planted butt-first on the stone tiles.

"Ouch!" Evidently, the 'something' was a person.

Oh no.

"Hey! Watch where you're-" the familiar voice belonging to a familiar boy exclaimed only to stop mid-sentence and stare at the purple-haired princess with his large, bird-like eyes of mismatched blue and green colours. Heterochromia was the term if she recalled correctly. Some people found it weird, but she'd gotten used to it by now; it would be hard not to given how much time she spent with the half-demon.

"Oh, thank goodness it's just you, Fitz," Zora said, sighing a relieved sigh as she pulled herself upright.

"Just me, huh?" he said in his ever-sarcastic tone and stared at her with a bemused smile. "You know running within the castle grounds is strictly prohibited, right? If the queen heard a word of it, you'll be in trouble, Zora."

Zora had gotten used to the half-demons casual way of addressing her, and while it was a fresh breath of air from being called 'your highness' or 'princess Butterfly' or 'your benevolence, all of which she found silly and surplus, somehow, having Fitz casually address her by her name had lately begun to irritate her even more. She almost felt the urge to force him to call her by one of her many formal titles, but petty spite was beyond a proper princess. Well, that's what she'd been told, anyhow. After much consideration, she finally came up with the most logical response.

"Oh, can it, Fitz!"

"How polite, my dear princess."

"...!"

With puffed cheeks, Zora stormed past him, making sure to bump into him along the way, and the half-demon sighed and followed her, well aware of what was to come. It was almost like a morning ritual, really.

"Are you well-rested?"

"I slept fine."

"Are you certain?"

"Yep."

"Then why are you awake at such an early hour?"

"Went to bed early."

"I see. So the person who was climbing into your bedchamber through the main window using a makeshift rope at approximately 1:44 AM was not you, Zora?"

"How did you-" Zora spun without thinking and noticed the sly smirk on the half-demons lips.

"I did not know, Zora, but thank you for the confession."

"Argh!" Zora slumped her posture and glared at Fitz. "Why do you keep doing this to me every morning, Fitz?" she asked, her tone signalling more fatigue than anger, and the half-demon replied with a steady tone.

"I have to, Zora. You know as well as I do that the Queen appointed me to be your personal attendant and ensure nothing goes awry."

"I get that, but I don't think I'm in much danger inside my family's own castle."

"A fair point," Fitz admitted, "but you know well that it is not only you who the Queen is worried about."

"..." Zora crossed her arms and stared at the stone tiles beneath her feet in silence, her expression bordering on shame. A warm touch on her shoulder reminded her that she wasn't alone, and she looked up to Fitz to see him gazing at her with a stern look.

"How have your dreams been, Zora?" Fitz asked, his serious tone masking obvious concern for the young girl. "Anything out of the ordinary lately?" Zora shook her head, to which Fitz looked relieved. "And your powers? Have they been acting up in any way?"

"Not that I'd know of."

"That's good," Fitz said. "This will put many people at ease during today's ceremony."

"Are you sure it's a good idea to go through with it?"

"Hmm?"

"I mean, you know what happened the last time I so much as touched that thing, right?"

"You mean the Royal Magic Wand?" Fitz asked and Zora replied with a silent nod that he mimicked. "I remember."

"...what if it happens again, Fitz?" Zora asked, her voice like a gentle whisper in the breeze. "What if this time, I won't be able to control it?"

"You will."

"And if I won't?" Zora countered and gazed through the nearest window to see the sun rising to paint a vivid landscape in its golden light. She ran a finger along the glass panes of the window, then turned her hand so that the open palm of her left hand was facing towards her, and with it the crescent moon symbol that was etched into her skin.

"I almost unmade reality, Fitz..." Zora sighed and looked at the open palm of her right hand and ran a finger along the scar that simply would not heal. "Sometimes I wonder whether I really did go through with it and this reality I'm in is just my own machination, you know? That it's all one big lie, just like the other lives I've lived. All fake, including myself..."

"You know that isn't true, Zora."

"Do I, Fitz? Do I?" She looked him in the eyes with a challenging stare. "You know what I am, Fitz."

"What you were."

"What I am," she repeated, putting additional emphasis on the last word. "So how can I be sure of anything anymore? How can I be sure that any of this is real? The castle, my parents, my life." The princess paused and looked to the side, and added in a tiny voice. "You... how can I be sure it's genuine, Fitz?"

"You're spiralling again, Zora," Fitz said and reached out with one hand. Zora was startled for a time, then reluctantly placed the palm of her hand in his. "See?" he said, smiling a reassuring smile. "I'm real. Well, real enough. As are you, Zora." The half-demon stepped closer to her and aimed his gaze out the window. basking in the brilliance of the rising Sun. "You fought hard to create this world, this reality, and don't allow your own doubt to strip that from you, Zora."

The two shared a companionable silence that Zora broke, smiling again.

"Yeah, I guess so. But allow me to correct you about one minor detail, Fitz." The half-demon arched an eyebrow at her, and the young princess placed a hand atop of his, to which the boy didn't know how to respond. "We fought for this world, not me. All of us did, you included, and don't I dare catch you saying otherwise." The half-demon found no response and stared the princess in the eyes unwaveringly. Zora released his hand and sighed; maybe it was time for a change of topic.

"Are my parents up yet?"

"Queen Star and King Marco are at present yet in the royal bedchambers," Fitz explained, "they appear to be fatigued as ever, therefore I have refrained from waking them."

Zora couldn't help but frown. Fatigued, he said? If only it were just fatigue that was afflicting her parents.

If only.

Her gaze wandered to the wall opposite her, and she smiled at the painting that hung there, a picture of her family.

Her mother, beautiful as ever; her long, pale-blonde hair that may as well have been silver streaking all the way to the ground, the Queen's crown nestled atop her head, and her gentle smile adorning her ever-youthful face. Her father, sporting a set of traditional Mewman kingly attire with puffed shoulders and pantaloons was standing to the right, a protective hand resting on her mother's back. And herself, a girl with purple hair that made her stand out more than she would have liked, her own dress mimicking the flower-patterned kimono she once wore as a child. She still had that one neatly locked in her closet.

A frown crept onto her face. Soon, the painting would only be a distant memory of times gone by, and no matter how powerful she may be, even she was powerless against Time itself. And yet, maybe, just maybe, she could make another miracle happen like all those years ago. Even though everyone she spoke to insisted that that had been no miracle but simply her own doing, she knew better, because, without that miracle, the reality she knew would never have come into existence.

"What's wrong?" Fitz asked, taking note of her saddened expression. Zora looked at him and smiled.

"Nothing's wrong, Fitz. I'm just thinking."

"Of?"

"Of those times," she calmly replied, and Fitz gave a nod of understanding. Even though she kept being told that what was done was done and that she should look towards the future, her mind kept wandering back to those dark days.

The days when hope was dead and shadows reigned.

The days when all seemed lost and resigned to the grave.

The days when reality itself nearly shattered.

She remembered those days well, and the trials she had to surmount in order to save all that was dear to her.

End of Prologue

A/N: Welp, thus begins the final chapter of this story. I hope you'll stick along for the ride, however long it may take. As always, feedback and input is appreciated.

-jolleIQ