Bound by God, bound by Law, and filled with zealotry.
But just how long could angels fly when stripped of dignity?
The clock rang at exactly 5:55 PM, though, in the quiet village of Marianna in Mistral, a certain nun was already up and running, preparing herself for a new day. She had already braided her brunette hair into one fine, large string of locks, white tips at the very bottom, and was busy getting dressed up, putting her robe on, a large piece of purple cloth covering her form modestly, and hiding it from the world. She looked at herself in the mirror as she dressed, silver eyes glaring at her from the other end, sighing slightly as she took her glasses, a large, round pair, putting on. She was never proud of this impairment on her eyes, though she knew this was but a trial of the Lord for her to overcome. As she finished dressing up, she looked out the window, the quiet countryside scenery always pleasing to the eye.
"Alright. Today is the day. You can do this." She whispered to herself, taking the cross pendant on her neck, bringing it close to her mouth, and giving a short prayer to her Lord, the God of Light, to guide her through this critical day in her life. The final trial the small church she belonged to was to put in front of her if she wanted to be promoted, like her mother before her, to a protector of the village. After finally finishing her morning prayer, she heard a knock on the door, and turned to it as one of the church's attendants came in, greeting her with a smile.
"Good morning sister! Are you ready for your trial today?" The caretaker asked her, and she smiled back, bowing a bit.
"Indeed. With the Lord's guidance, I am sure to pass." Her faith burned brightly through her eyes, and the attendant beamed in response.
"That is heartening to hear, dear. Now, hurry along, the primach wished for your appearance this morning, and its best not to let him wait long."
"Of course. I shall be leaving post haste. Blessings upon ye." She bowed, taking her weapon with her, a large broadsword, easily her own size, standing at five feet and four inches, and collapsing it to a more compact form of a rather blocking looking object with only the handle sticking out, mounting it on her back, and walking out of her small room, through the church's halls. Fond memories of her life flashed through her eyes here, of the training she had with her mother, of the teachings the lord imparted upon her since she was a child, and the many nuns and priests who served her company in this small village of theirs. As she walked to halls, she reached the primach's hall, and stepping inside, she marveled at the grandeur that laid before her, golden spires erecting from the floor, and expensive tiles of karmic origin beneath her feet. She approached the man, an elder easily four times her age at the very least, kneeling before him patiently. "I hath arrived, father. What hast our lord above wishes of thine humble servant?"
She waited a bit, the old man opening his eyes, looking at her with grace. Through his age, she could still see the endless wisdom he could spare, as she let him take a deep breath, pleased to see her. "Child… The Lord hast showeth me thine trial. Art thou prepared to undergo it?"
"Yes, father." She replied definitively, and in a single breath. She couldn't let doubt cloud her mind, not now. Not at the most important step of her growth.
"Good, good… Then heed mine words, child." The old primach straightened in his seat, seemingly adding a few inches to his height. "Head to the old fields of the south… There, upon yonder, thine trial awaits thee. Slay the spawn of darkness, and thou shall be the ascendant thou wish to become."
"At once, father, Blessings of the Lord upon thee." She concluded. Getting up, and turning to leave, walking backward with her face turned towards him. It would have been coarse of her to turn her back on the spiritual leader of the church, after all. Stepping out of his chambers, she made her way out of the church, the Lord's sun hitting her face, warmth, and love filling her all over. Wherever she went, the townsfolk regarded her warmly.
"Sister!" She heard a young voice beacon her, as she turned her head to a small group of children, acolytes like she was so long ago, running over to her, each young gift of the Lord onto this world giving her a giddy, happy smile.
"What is it children?" She smiled, bending down to their level.
"We heard you were going to your trial today, so we made you this!" One of them told her, handing the nun a small crown of flowers, and placing it on her head.
"How… Lovely." She thanked them, holding back her joy, a complaisant, calm smile on her face. As much as she wanted to show them joy, nothing good would come out of letting her emotions out. She had to constrain them, to prove the Lord she was worthy of her title and position. A good guardian doesn't show emotion, she taught herself this well. She rose up, giving the children a nearly blank, though graceful look, walking away towards her objective. Her training was long, grueling, and more than once did the Lord put her life on the line, but she pushed through all of it, finally reaching the final trial, where she would receive her first mission as a rite of passage.
After about an hour's walk, she finally arrived there: The southern fields. A few days ago a large grimm started haunting the area, forcing the farmers out, and finally, it was her job to dispatch of the foul beast, and restore light to the area. As she walked through the ashen scenery, grayed out dust and untended crops all around her, she heard a loud shriek, raising her head to see the monster: A huge, menacing nevermore, flying in circles around the field, as if claiming it as its own. A familiar bust of holy fury started to bubble from deep within, and she took her weapon, transforming it into its sword form, a large barrel of dust in the center of the blade.
"Foul beast! Cower before the might of the Lord and perish!" She yelled, turning the barrel of lightning dust, raising her blade and, calling upon the power of the dust, as a jolt of lightning came from above, smiting the Grimm. It bellowed in anger, not down just yet, falling down towards her, swinging one of its wings, razor sharp feathers darting towards her as quick as thunder. She managed to react in time, raising her blade to shield herself, as a few of the feathers slipped through, tearing pieces of her robe, one even managing to scratch her leg and draw blood. She winced in pain, looking down at herself, her zealous tendencies only growing stronger, as it finally got close enough.
She swung the blade, jumping towards the Nevermore, hitting it square in the face, sending it off a little staggered. Trying to push through with the window she made, she spun the barrel to fire dust, calling upon it again, as a rain of fireballs descended from the skies, hitting its back. She jumped backward herself, hoping that would have been enough, but alas, the grimm proved more stubborn then she anticipated. Her aura was running out quick thanks to each dust skill she manifested, and if she weren't careful she'd run out before she could fell the foul creature.
It turned in the air, falling back on her. This was it, all or nothing. Taking the pendant in her hands one more time, she gave a short prayer, readying a battle cry, and jumping in front of it with all the bravery she had, she turned the barrel one last time to a unique blend of dust that her mother gave her.
Silver dust.
The blade erupted white light, as she poured all of her aura into the weapon. The Nevermore came face to face, and in an instant, she swung her weapon again, launching a wave of aura at the beast, slicing its wings clean off. It fell to the ground, screaming, and she hurried to finish the job, letting her blade fall on its head like a guillotine, beheading the grimm and ending its reign for good. "May the world be at peace." She uttered to herself, as she did after a successful grimm slaying mission, heading home, using her blade to hold her injured leg.
The town welcomed her back with a warm greeting. She ignored them, heading into the church, only reporting her dead mattered to her now. A small trail of blood oozed from her leg, but she didn't mind, walking into his chambers, kneeling before him just like before.
"I hath slayeth the foul beast, father."
"Indeed… But thou hast used thine mother's gift, have you not, Leila?"
She shuddered at the mention of her name by the primach himself. "Y… Yes, father."
He paused, thinking for a few minutes. "Then mayhap… Thou would need some more training, a reassurance of thine preparations. Thou shalt be sent to Beacon Academy for hHuntress training."
Her heart sank, though her body didn't move an inch. All Leila could do was nod. "It shall be done, father."
A/N: And... There we go. All four of the trailers are out, and now, the real show begins. The curtains rise, the band practices, and soon enough...
The show will begin.