I write these lines while wondering if my life may be forfeit. Maybe I could keep on living like I always have, but curiousity drives me; the pervasive need to know has grown beyond comprehension, consuming me like a bottomless chasm. This journal is meant to help order my thoughts before I meet her, so that I can remember how it all began.

I have no memories of Lumina's birth; I was only two at the time, but everyone I asked tells me the same thing: it was a strange day for Shiroyuri. Her parents were an ordinary couple, perfectly lovely and perfectly human. Lumina, however, was not. She was born with stubby, white gossamer wings that bore a faint fuzz; I now know it is that of a silk moth. Her hair ended up the same colour, the very concept of ivory.

Now I know how it sounds. Clear case, her mom must have had a guy on the side. Except there were no moth faunus in town. I don't think I ever even saw one beside her. No one else I asked did, either. But when the child of two humans comes out a faunus, you don't think much about it. Her dad was devastated, drank himself to death within the month. I can only assume, but maybe the fact his wife died in childbirth just finished him off. If there was another guy, she took that to the grave.

The other thing everyone agrees on is that a completely healthy woman was unlikely to die giving birth. Except Lumina was born with an active aura; the nurse swears she shone faintly gold, like the first beam of light at dawn.

Lumina once told me the only reason she survived is Granny Bluebell. With her old man touring the bars, no one else cared enough to look after her. I guess the old fox felt for a fellow faunus, not like I can ask her; she died five years ago. Peacefully, in her sleep. Come to think of it, Lumina has not smiled since then. She had a soft spot for the old lady.

The first concious memory I have of her is also my first memory period. It was a sudden Grimm attack. Mainly Beowulves, some Ursas, a Boarbatusk or two. There were no hunters in town that day, so the militia had to hold the line; Shiroyuri was too young to have any shelters dug, so us kids were all running. Lumina was with us, three years old at the time. I was five and kind of leading the lot.

I will never forget rounding that corner. A giant wolf waited right behind, its tenebrous body bulging with muscle. A dirty bone plate covered its head and sickly, yellow eyes glared out malevolent intent. I locked up then, face to face with death. The adult with us pushed me back and was ripped to shreds; when I fell on my ass, the shock shook me awake and I crawled back while the beast was busy.

And there was Lumina, standing frozen at the sight of her first Grimm. I still recall vividly how it suddenly stiffened, focussing exlusively on her. The beast outright ignored the cloud of fear all of us must have felt.

I will never forget the Grimm. And I will never forget her face that day. Lumina was not afraid. She was angry. No. Not angry, angry is not nearly enough a word to describe it. Irate? Furious? Fuming? Apoplectic? None of these do it justice, that grimace of sheer anger. Her aura flared visibly, wings fluttering.

Anyone I asked later tells me that the Grimm screamed, shocking everyone but me and her into fainting. I understand why they attribute this bloodcurdling, inhuman screech to the abyssal spawn. But they are wrong.

It was not the Grimm.

Lumina screamed that day, her voice a physical force that paralysed my entire body. A scream so bridled with hatred that even the soulless beast was taken aback. It died before the surprise wore off; Lumina manifested her Semblance then, projecting light. It became a thin beam that punched a hole through its head.

It feels like every single Grimm in the village converged on us from then on; the moment she spotted them, a band of light connected Lumina and a given beast before it died. None was spared, none even made it near her.

I once asked her why she hates them so much. Her response makes some sense, but tells me nothing: "No mind to think, no will to break, no voice to cry suffering."

She never elaborated and I stopped asking long ago.

Her place in the village changed since then; she already was a bit of a pariah among the older children because of her wings, but now they were actively scared of her. Those her age and younger were just mesmerised by the light she produced. The adults, well, I think they liked that she made herself useful? Grimm attacks became more common, but Lumina always killed most of whatever force came.

That is not to say she became a celebrity; I don't think she ever cared, either. Her active aura and clear ability to kill with absolute ruthlessness made no one risk bullying her, but that was about it. She never had friends and never wanted them. She is not pretty despite her active life. Emaciated, more like. She never asked for payment or any recompense for killing Grimm; I offer her some of my food whenever I can spare it, wondering how she is still alive. Every day she rises with the sun and stands perfectly still for an hour to soak up its light. Then she does chores around the shack she lives in, eats what food she has, and begins to wander about town aimlessly. Sometimes other girls or some of the boys try to get her to hang out, but she just has no interest in anything we like. Back then I thought she looked down on us, but by now I know she simply does not care.

Sometimes she is heard talking to herself in alien tongues; not Valean or Atlesean, but something so utterly foreign they wonder if she made it up. Pitch and tones vary from time to time, but every single eldritch speech I heard sends shivers down my spine.

Everyone else ignores her eccentricities because she is useful or because she scares them. But I do not. I can not. I must know what makes her the way she is. For fourteen years she has lived in this village; she does not seem to care about us, but she still stays. Her wings work, she could just fly away and never look back. Why does she not? Who is she, and why? What secrets hide in this light that is exactly like sunlight?

Dawn breaks in an hour. I will meet her then and finally ask about it all.

The next entry is written in shaky letters, turning more and more illegible. Droplets of blood and tears smear some of the ink. It reads as follows:

She told me. Showed me. I saw heard felt smelled. I saw it. I saw it. I saw it. The first spark of light. The song from the beginning of time. Titans of flame spread wings, they are her eggs. A million million million eggs across time and space, waiting to hatch. But she was first, was ever, is forever.

Dawn will break!

I have seen the face of god Andsheis a MOTH!