A Flood of Light
"If any man hear my voice, and open the door, I will come in to him, and will sup with him, and he with me."
- Revelation 3:20
Long ago, she had realised that passion was the soul of art. Nothing would come from a tender heart, one had to love fully with all their heart; only devotion and worship could breathe life into effort. In childhood, she had not known that passion. She had done as instructed, she had spoken only when spoken to, a shadow at her father's side, the great head of the Harima family, painfully aware of her position as the youngest daughter of one of the four founding families of the Alchemys Union. It had not been until adulthood that she had truly begun to understand the significance of passion.
Quite when her fall from grace had begun, Harima Shiori did not know. Perhaps it had been with the birth of her younger brother, the first boy amidst a gaggle of elder sisters. Perhaps it had been when, following graduation, she had been appointed a simple investigator, her aptitude deemed to be less than stellar by those in power, her rank so, so far below that of a super A-class alchemist.
Perhaps, she thought darkly, picking at the scabs that ran up her arm, perhaps it had been when she had placed all her hopes and dreams on the shoulders of a boy in high school, hoping that he would spirit her away from the tyranny of her father's household, hoping that he would not bow to the pressure exerted on him by one of the four founding families of the Alchemys Union.
An inappropriate match, her father had said, his final words on the matter. She had not seen the boy again after that, not for a good many years, not until they were both adults, and even then, he had averted his eyes at her approach.
The world was ruinous, the world was cruel. A new world was needed to replace the cruelty of the one she had been born into; a new world was needed so that no one would have to exist as she had.
Passion, she had learnt, was the key.
To vow in love unspeakable, to devote yourself to that which is forbidden, this was how to usher in change.
From Clotho, who span out that which was to come, from Lachesis, who decided upon the length of one's life, from Atrops, who cut short those unworthy, she had followed the sisters in grace to the Door of Darkness, and now… now, she stood on the threshold, the last of her lessons complete.
Now, what was required of her was passion and talent, and tomorrow, she would stand beside her gods in paradise.
All she need do was stand at the door and knock.