And your heart, is a stone
Buried underneath your pretty clothes
-The Naked and Famous, "Girls Like You"

Her name was Rei. At least, that was what the man that she referred to dearly as Grandfather had called her. He wasn't her grandfather though, not by any stretch of the imagination. The term was one of respect though, one of love, even if he wasn't maternally so. The man though had raised her in his own sort of fashion after she had been left abandoned. A priest at a temple, it was only natural he could not turn her away and did not.

Instead, he embraced her as his own, and in the twilight of his years raised her as best as he could. As she grew older and began to question the nature of the world about her, he offered what insight he could, relating it all to her that she had been found, that her father was probably one of the countless warlords that overran the planet. He could very well be dead; he had no clue truly and of roving bands, there were countless.

Her mother just as well could have been anyone. A victim. A willing accomplice. Perhaps even she was the warlord and her father was just, as a bastardized saying went, just a stud for her means. Maybe they even worked together, maybe they had been at odds with one another. He did not know, and was honest with her. Such honesty though had her not speak to him for a score or more of days before she addressed him out of the clear sky, saying that it wasn't his fault, and that she needed to come to terms with it.

She was wise beyond her years, he knew that much. Often when they sat by the fire in meditation, something he had taught her to help come to terms with the uncertainty of her nature, much less future, she would gasp in surprise. He even dropped his own decorum once he realized she could see things in the fire's hypnotic dance. Many were drawn to fire for its most primal and basic attributes. It could heat, provide warmth, ward off the darkness with light. It could endure if fed properly. It could rage out of control, be impossible to harness much less control, and destroy without prejudice.

Fire did it all, and demanded the utmost of attention. He had never known of one that could read the flames directly; it was a rumor at best, something shrouded in myth. But he had known that it was possible. Only the greatest could, but that greatness was not so easily defined. He himself could not, yet neophytes and high priests alike could. The ability, the talent, the gift to read the flames was as whimsical as fire itself; it chose who it desired and woe be to any that tried to understand.

At first she had small visions, better explained as locating things. He was in his twilight years when she had been found at the temple, his mind was sharp but he often misplaced things. The flames told her where to find them, almost as though the fires were guiding her towards more difficult obstacles to overcome with training. From there it moved towards a sense of premonition, occasionally she knew who someone would be before they even introduced themselves to her.

That had taken her the longest to adjust to, this almost sense of omnipresence. It was not truly; she couldn't see exactly into the future, but she could sometimes have a feeling that something might happen. Something could happen. She didn't see all possible futures, but if it was something drastic, she would gain a feeling. One such time sealed her fate as a seer, she had a notion that everyone should be brought inside the deep caverns that ran under the temple. For why she couldn't say, but merely a few hours later a dangerous storm crashed down around them. The land flooded with howling, blistering winds. Lightning stuck with a fury all of its own, as though the weather itself was waging war.

Had she not the notion, countless would have been displaced, if not perished by the storms. From then onward, everyone regarded her differently. For good omen or ill will, she was considered both gifted and cursed. Someone to be spoken to in whispers, lest she call down the wrath of the heavens upon their blasphemy. It turned her further towards being an introvert, shunning most company unless it was her grandfather or the flames themselves.

It changed one day when two men came to the temple, seeking sanctuary. Both barely in their second decade of life, they could be mistaken for brothers if it was not for the fact both knew they were not. They introduced themselves to her grandfather, now barely able to leave the bed with his deteriorating health, explaining that they were soldiers who had seen enough death for so young in their life. They offered to defend the temple, and importantly the people that relied on it; notably the people that regarded the Seer as their protection from the growing restless warlords.

Both men were religious, believing in the old ways, the primality of nature. They had been conscripted at a young age from opposing ends of the planet, and eventually met somewhere in the middle in a battle. Unable to consider harming the other they both deserted, but they covered their tracks to not bring their leaders with their armies upon them. Unable to turn them away even if he so desired, her grandfather bade them to stay as long as they wished.

They slowly became friends with her, if not exactly friends then at least companions. If she went out among the people to treat fevers or other injuries, they followed her about. They had no name, at least not one that they could remember being called outside of "boy." It struck her as sad, having no name. Even if Rei wasn't her real name, it was her name. It was her identity; beyond how she could identify with herself and her place in the great Cosmos, it was one of the things that could make her ultimately unique. Not having a name seemed like an abomination against the very course of nature. It went against all teachings, both what she knew by her life and what had been taught to her.

A young mother had called one Phobos and the other Deimos, after the twin moons of the planet. For the Priestess seemed to be such a heavenly body and the two men the moons that would always circle about her. The name stuck without any misgivings, earning them both, as well as the young mother with her swadling child, the rare and elusive smile. The two took to it immediately, but with quiet and reserved reverence. To be named such, more so with their beliefs, danced the line between honor and blasphemy.

Of course though it wasn't always good times. That was the way of the world, karma, the universe. Whatever you wanted to call it. The temple had a small town around it, people came and went but most settled and were content to remain. The reason for strife and discord wasn't because of the increased activities from the warlords, but it was the easy way out to pass blame. Word of her fortune telling, future viewing, hadn't quite become widespread yet but was slowly gaining in notoriety. Even that wasn't the reason though. Travelers and pilgrims alike began to speak of rumors they had heard, rumors of rumors, about the Earth.

Who cared about Terra? What they did shouldn't matter. It would be like concerning yourself about what a Jovian did. Or a Mercurian. Or worse, a Venusian. Who wanted to care what the brutes thought; they obviously were incapable of thought as it were, or the ones too wrapped up in knowledge that they were cold, or the ones too busy fucking each other or anything that walked? Why then should they care about what the Terrans did? Let them stay on their backwater planet.

She paid no mind to the mill of rumors, caring not to know the importance perhaps that the Earth Queen had died. Who cared about royalty anyway? There was a King of Mars, but no one knew where he was at or much less gave a shit about him. If he was that important, he would have squashed the roving warlords. As he did not, it was easier to feign first, then claim utter disgust turning towards apathy about the notion of a ruler, much less one that proclaimed they were King or Queen.

Most of the town thought the same way, silently glad for the protection and leadership she offered while equally fearful. If she was so cursed or blessed by the Gods; the decision laying which way you thought, what would stop Them from visiting Their wrath upon the common folk if They grew displeased with her? Or perhaps, if They took her away? It was not much later that her grandfather perished, sending her already dour outlook to something darker. For a score of days she did not emerge from the temple's sanctuary, causing many to wonder if she had taken her life to join him in the afterlife. Perhaps she was conspiring with demons. Perhaps she had left and they were in turn left to their fate.

For a score of days she hadn't emerged, and for another score she still hadn't. It wasn't until near ninety days had passed; a day they could later deduce, for each year her grandfather had been alive, that she finally opened the doors to the temple. Firmly wrapped her in faith she looked out over those who had chosen to remain for her guidance and council. Standing foremost were Phobos and Deimos, bearing arms that had seen warfare.

She knew there had been fighting, having seen in it the flames. The warlords were growing more restless, more brazen. She had a duty to protect the people; her people. Not answer summons that she had found when dealing with the grief of her grandfather passing. They had been cast to the fire with a glower; how dare she presume! How dare she command, summon her, away from her people, her home, to the fucking Moon?!

She didn't know how her grandfather had received it, much less when he had, but if no one came for her by now, then it must not be that important. To the flames the fire licked the pretty parchment, drank the elegantly worded summon. To the flames she recalled the words. Serve as a glorified babysitter to some spoiled ass Princess. Hells no. Hells fucking no.

But the flames had done more than wipe away the existence of the letter. They had sent a warning that the warlords were coming for her. Her presence had spread while she was in mourning, the notion of what she could do made her a valuable prize and target. To Phobos and Deimos she looked, then to the rest, before she spoke. A handful of warriors, chosen by the two Generals as she named them, would accompany her. They would deal with the brigands coming to get her people, then return. They would do this however many times it would take before the warlords left her people in peace.

What she had failed of course to mention that not only was it grief she dealt with for near ninety days, it was also her awakening.

For days turned to weeks, turned to months, turned to years, it was what she did. That it only made her more desirable for capture never crossed her mind. That they sent spies meant she consulted the flames, before exterminating them without prejudice. It was always a small band, desiring not to leave her people unguarded. A smaller force could commit this guerilla warfare easier anyway, always choosing the prime opportunities and locations for themselves, not for who was after them.

Until, one day. The flames told her that the next person she met would change the very nature of her soul.

They had made a small camp in the shadow of Olympus Mons, but that great volcano cast its shadow so very long that anywhere could almost be within its shadow. The day dawned as it always did, with nothing special about it. Their small camp had not yet been broken up, yet Phobos and Deimos were out scouting in advance. They rarely spoke, serving instead as her silent eyes and ears, if not her very will. Phobos had gone up ahead while Deimos remained back, coming on guard at the gesture of his counterpart.

Someone was coming. Alone.

They had silently watched as the woman; oh it was obvious she was for the armor gave it away as did the nature of her legs, picked her way through the canyon to them. They picked this spot for a reason, for here they could effectively hold off countless due to its narrow inlet. That they could be ambushed was well known, but it would take time for the armies to line the sheer walls to do so. By that time, they would be long gone, hidden to the underground network of caverns and tunnels.

She watched as Deimos suddenly reached for his spear, his grip taken before he thrust forward. There, just around the bend in the rock she saw their guest. An armored idiot. Who wore a plume like that anyway? And a cloak? What, was she mad? No one fought in shit like that. Behind her, she knew Phobos would be equally giving her a deadly greeting if she so much as sneezed.

With silent satisfaction she watched as the woman raised her hands in the universal sign for surrender.

Then had the gall to speak.

They all did of course but none spoke with quite this … authority … that the woman did. She was used to being obeyed, to have her orders carried out. She snorted, rolling her eyes. Phobos and Deimos would handle it, turning away before something caught her attention. A flashback, the mind's eye replayed the scene.

The next you meet will change your very soul.

Your very soul.

"Wait. Let her … speak." She heard herself say, stepping around Deimos. Why would she say such a thing? Why did this spy matter when so many others didn't? Why had the flames decided now that this one was different? In full view of the woman she equally took her in. She refused, however, to be taken in the eyes. Like the sky, only more vibrant. Like the deepest lake, only far more dangerous to drown in. To call them blue was an affront. To call them alive was to cheapen their nature.

How dare she.

She scowled. "Kill her."

That the woman had the nerve to have both Phobos and Deimos actually stop made her further irate. "Why should they stop to kill you? You're a spy, or a scout, likely leading a host down here to take me. I won't go, and I don't care how many of you I have to kill to prove that point." She nodded curtly at Deimos to get on with it. Kill the blue eyed one before she enthralled her completely she silently begged of him. Or she'd do it herself.

That of course, was when the scouting party found them.

And that was when the woman took the words from her mouth, cleared them from her mind, and paused her heart. The drawn sword; falchion her mind whispered, was not for her. Not like they thought. It was instead presented as the woman…

As the woman knelt…

In front of her.

She knelt in front of her.

And spoke.

"I swear to protect you, to defend you, and to guide you. I will not let death claim you on my watch."