(1150 AD)
In the center of a vast crystal palace, a young girl sat cross legged over a crystal ball. Her audience was small, just the current queens of the magical realm and their closest advisors. In the left throne, an elderly witch by the name of Maba, who watched the performance with one eye. In the center, the pillar life in all it's chaotic nature, a white witch known as Iroha. They were the rising sun and the ever changing moon, with an empty throne on the right.
"Iroha's dream of finding peace between the realms will come to fruition." The fortune teller said. The two queens shared a look, having heard similar fortunes a hundred times over.
"That will be all." Maba said. The young girl collected her ball and bowed to the queens. "Tyche could have at least left us a hint who her successor would be, she could see into the blasted future." The old crone had been caught by old age, a pleasant surprise for everyone. So few witches ended that way. Clearly, she had the foresight to pass on her magic, but there were thousands of magic students who could cast a simple divination spell. Trying to weed out the oracle she chose was proving to be a headache.
"What's done is done." Iroha sighed.
"Send in the next one." Maba bit back a frustrated growl when yet another witch too young for schooling was let into the throne room. They literally had to check everyone. She was a gaunt little thing with stringy dark blue hair, no older than eight in appearance.
"Have you read a fortune before?" Iroha's smile was warm and inviting. The child shook her head. "Alright then, follow along with me." With her finger she used light to trace the pattern of a spell circle. "You open your spirit up to the universe and think of this symbol. If it's too hard, you can try using water or smoke to help you."
"Okay." The child seated herself on the floor. "What do you want to know?"
"We can't tell you." Maba sighed. "That's part of the test." The little girl nodded.
She squinched her eyes real tight and tried to make the symbol in her head. She wasn't the best at magic and these kinds of spells could be tricky. As soon as she opened her eyes, tears began to flow.
"Close the gates to the magical world." She said, her voice small and fragile. It had only been for a few seconds, but she couldn't unsee what the spell had shown her. "People need a place to hide."
"What did you see?" Maba asked. The young girl shook her head, she hardly had to words for it, let alone the heart to tell them.
"When will it be over?" Iroha asked gently instead.
"...when god-eating titans escape their cages," the child said, "and the first demon weapon is sealed."
"That will be all." Maba shook her head. Yet another drama queen grasping at straws.
"Please close the gates!" She cried. "If they stay open... There will be two empty thrones." Two staff members came to escort her out the room. The glass doors shut behind her after another girl was let in.
"Gosh, what did you tell them Cassandra?" One of the girls in line asked her.
"The truth." Cassandra wiped her eyes.
"Oh, you shouldn't have done that." The older girl rolled their eyes. "If it's bad news, you have to sugar coat it and give them hope."
"I did." Cassandra saw the line of girls that stretched down the hall and out the door. "If they don't close the gates, everyone's going to have to hide in the human world. It won't matter how people use their magic, they'll all be put on the list."
"What list?"
"Selene," Cassandra bit her lip, "you have to give them the same warning. If all of us tell them the same thing, they'll have to listen." She could tell by the disappointed faces, no one wanted to risk their chance at becoming queen over her word. Even still, young and old, she went down the line asking all the applicants to ask for the gates to be closed, the same doomy aura hung around their souls. Within five years, all of them would be murdered and eaten.
(1981 AD)
Gone were the glittering lights and gorgeous crystals. Decades of war and hiding in secret had worn the Fate's court down from hundreds to tens. Palaces had been traded for secluded mad houses and other places humans didn't dare tread. Cassandra knelt in front of a humble replica of the Fate's throne, now closer to seventeen in appearance. As she predicted, only Maba presided over them.
"When last you sat before us, no one could predict the one-sided war Lord Death would declare on our kind. You did." Maba said. "The burden bared by The Inevitable, is to know when and how people will leave this Earth. In such dark times, it brings comfort to see such a kind soul will help guide our sisters home." The room echoed with the sniffles of her fellow witches.
Cassandra hung her head. The council was holding onto the idea that slaying the weapons Shinigami-sama created would allow them to retrieve the souls that had been taken. She had tried a few times, but once the ritual had been complete, there was no way to extract the soul of a witch who'd been eaten. Their magic was forever trapped in a demon that was not quite human and not quite witch; a shapeshifting parasite used against their kind.
"You will have to move in secret," Maba said, "but we'll see to it firsthand that our fellow covens know the third Fate walks amongst us once more. The people need hope now more than ever." That was the problem.
Traditionally, when a new witch takes the mantel of a Fate, there's a huge coronation, and a week long festival. Cassandra was welcomed into the court quietly, with a handful of witches to see her inherit the ceremonial scissors. They dolled her up in something far more modern and modest compared to her predecessors.
A tightly scheduled road trip was plotted for them, so she could greet the other underground leaders. They'd make it part of the way before getting ambushed, her retainers would die and she would be captured. She had told them this, and even still, the witches would march toward their destiny. Yes, some things were inevitable, but did that mean they should just lay down and accept it? At the very least they could try and bring more people for protection or plan a different route.
She was put on a cramped RV with her fellow witches. As the scenery rushed past, one looming mountain stood out on the horizon. In six months, she'd be taken there. The edges of the mountain ebbed and flowed as they followed the highway. Just because their ends were determined, didn't mean the future had to be set in stone.
Long grey clouds flickered with light as the first few drops of rain soaked the pavements. They had pulled over at a rest stop for gas and a break. By the time they were ready to get back on the road, Cassandra was gone.
Being a lookout was boring work. A village, at the top of a mountain, in the pouring rain wasn't in danger of being attacked right this second. There was just nothing else to do, but watch from the outer wall to see if any customers stopped by the black lion statue and place their coins over its eyes. Suzaka's attention was grabbed when a woman at the base of the mountain bypassed the statue to climb the stairs.
"Uh, boss?" He said into a pipe. "Someone wants to talk to you." He waited for someone, anyone from the bowels of the base to give him the time of day. He heard the clatter of plates as the rest of the clan finished their meal.
"What's the request?" A cold, stern voice rattled up the pipe.
"There uh, there isn't one, not yet at least." Suzaka leaned back over the edge of the tower. Through the rain and his thick red hair, he could see the tiny figure continue to climb. "They have to want to talk to a person, they're coming up the steps." People laughed at him.
"Don't worry about it." His boss said. "That's what the stairs are for." The other line went dead, leaving Suzaka in the howling rain. For the ordinary person, the climb up the mountain was a grueling hour-long chore. Most looked up the winding path and gave up at the base of the statue. He couldn't help but worry why in this weather, someone would look up at the tiny glowing ember of the gates and try anyway. Half an hour later, he called again.
"She's still here."
Training had been postponed until storm lightened up. So, when Suzuka's voice rang through the main hall, he had the attention of the elders and his fellow trainees. People crowded around as their young leader picked up the call.
"What do you mean they're still here?"
"She uh, she made it half way up, and now she's kind of crawling?" Genbu, a leather clad master of disguise and Seiryu, a master in hidden weapons, braved the weather to join him at the outpost. They saw the glittering silk, bogged down by the rain, act as a weight against the visitors arms and legs. She alternated letting it drag on the ground, or waddling up the steps with the skirt in her arms.
"Hey!" Seiryu shouted. The visitor looked up and waved. "What are you doing!?" She laughed when the woman pointed at the door. "Yeah, I can see that." Genbu grabbed her by the mouth and pulled her back into the tower.
"What part of stealthy secret assassin village are you not getting?" Genbu hissed through his teeth. Seiryu shrugged him off and rang the rain out of her blue synthetic hair.
"Can't be that secret if she's coming up here."
"Call me again if she makes it to the door." Their boss said and hung up again. The trio watched with amusement as someone so frail battled to get to the top. Occasionally she had to rest, earning a few jeering shouts of encouragement from Seiryu and Suzaka. After almost two hours, she reached the iron door hangers and knocked once. The young assassin leader opened the door with a scowl.
"Hi." Cassandra said, a breathless dopey grin on her face. She had actually made it. The rain masked her tears, because how in a million years could she explain why she was so happy to have just gotten this far. He looked exactly like the hero in her visions. A stern warrior with grey hair and stars in his eyes. "Right, you don't know me." His scowl deepened as she floundered. In six months, he would have been sent to assassinate the demon lord that captured her. While all the prisoners slowly died from poisoned tea, she alone would bear witness to the faces of this village collecting the souls of the dead. Unable to kill her, she assumed she was brought here, since in further visions they were usually together. "I'm here to be your bride." The door shut in her face.
On the other side, several members objected, their curiosity further peaked by her outlandish statement. There were shouts as someone was pushed out of the way and the doors opened once more. A withered old lady in a gi and drooping robe gestured for her to step inside.
"You're early." She said. Cassandra nodded, the piercing glare from her future husband aimed square at the elder's back.
"Early for what?" His question was left unanswered as everyone was ushered inside out of the rain. The young man's objects swallowed by the howling storm. The first of several bridal candidates had arrived.
The Asuka village had taken great pains to bring the what they could from Kyoto to West Texas. The center of the village was lined with alleyways of rural homes, wattled together with steep roofs to combat the rain. She was led to a wide, sprawling dojo that divided the communal space and the training grounds. Converse and colored leather boots followed in the muddy geta footprints of the elders.
The interior of the dojo was lovingly decorated with artifacts from the clan's days in Japan. Ornate swords, ink paintings of epic battles, and clay pottery lined the walkway. Cassandra was able to slip out of her flats with ease, but her dress left a wide trail of water on the lacquered floor. The old woman grabbed her by the shoulder, waist, and hips.
"Go with Seiryu," the elder said, "she'll help you find something that will fit." Seiryu rolled her eyes, but motioned for Cassandra to follow. She was brought to a room, with a wall of different ornate fans. Cassandra lingered at the display, the slightest silver glimmer along the fan's edges suggesting a blade of some kind.
"Don't touch those." Seiryu said. She threw open a wardrobe full of different silvery-blue ponytail clips on the top shelf and rows of baggy, colorful cloths. A set of wide high-waist acid-wash jeans and a drooping orange sweater was thrown Cassandra's way. "No, tuck in the sweater. Have you never dressed yourself?"
"Not exactly." There were spells for everything, from washing your hair, to making modest clothes fit like a glove. To use magic in the human realm would involve dropping her soul protection spell. Any wrong move could invite death on their doorstep. So she fumbled with her buttons and wondered if such obnoxious clothes was some form of hazing.
"Did you bring anything besides this grandma dress?" Seiryu held up the angel-sleeved robe dress Cassandra had been wearing. Maybe in the twenties it had been fashionable to lounge around in sequins and silk, but that time had passed.
"I..." Cassandra hadn't really thought this far. "I was just so excited, I forgot to pack."
"Aww," Seiryu cooed, "you're going to be so disappointed. My cousin's a total Monet, nobody's got time to fix all that mess, but good on you for trying." She frowned, something wasn't quite adding up as Cassandra followed her to the main hall like a lost duckling. No one who came here was ever excited to do so, not even the clan members. She'd definitely have to keep an eye on this new girl. They entered the main hall; knives and other sharp objects embedded in the walls. "Looks like they finally told him." Sieryu said under her breath.
"It's part of your duty to carry on the bloodline White Star." Said an old man in a yellow suit long fur coat. He had deflected every blow with a gold cane. The current head of the Star Clan, Charon was a grizzled old man who gave up keeping pace with the outside world around twenty years ago.
"Why?" White Star threw a glare at Suzuka and Genbu, who passively watched from the sidelines. At least one of them should be on look out duty instead of foisting it on a newbie. "We have all the useless bums you could possibly need."
"I'm on break!" Suzuka said as he covered his teased curls in a cloud of hairspray. Genbu shielded his black leather top from the spray with a plate.
"They're not the ones demanding to be head of the clan, you are." Charon slammed his cane on the ground with deafening clang. "When those other girls get here, you better show them respect."
"Other girls?" Cassandra asked. Charon's demeanor softened as he welcomed her to sit down. Everyone in the room put their best foot forward while White Star glared.
"Yes, my dear," Charon said, "all members of our family are skilled warriors. Traditionally, the strongest of the bridal candidates marry into the family."
"The others drop out first." Sieryu whispered. Cassandra tried to picture their first meeting from the past, but events had already shifted, leaving it a distant memory. Without her magic, she wasn't stronger than the average human.
"You could be the first." White Star said. His cousin slowly stepped away, her comments no longer helping. "Save yourself the trouble."
"I did not come this far just to give up now." Cassandra said. Regardless of what he said, the visions she had of them together remained unchanged. "I'm not going anywhere."
"We'll see about that." White Star stalked away.
In the middle of the night, Cassandra was woken up by White Star. In all black, he narrowed his eyes and nodded toward the doorway.
"Come on," he said, "you think you want to apart of this, I'll show you exactly what we do."
He offered Cassandra a set of dark clothes and they waited for her to follow. The had a short cut down the mountain, taking all of ten minutes to get to the paved roads. White Star gave a run down of the mission to her on the drive over.
"Texarcana's in full lock down as soon as the sunsets." He said. "If someone shows up, I'll do the talking." He drove Cassandra up to a cliff overlooking the town. A full, laughing moon, bathed the city in a white light. The sparse drops of rain, chirped against the glistening pavement. For once, they were alone.
"You know, it's kind of funny," she said, "I've waited so long for this part of my life. Now that I'm here, I don't know what to say." She fidgeted with her sleeves. "I know it will take time to get used to each other... I'm sorry it's been a burden on you."
"It's not a burden." White Star shrugged. "It's a mild inconvenience at best."
"Still," she sighed, "I just wanted more time together, however much you'd let me have." She shook her head. At the end of the day, she'd been in love with the idea of them together. She didn't know much past the tiny glimpses she'd seen during other people's last moments. "It's one of the few things I've had a choice in."
A large, gangly shadow passed in front of the moon. Two glowing eyes peered at them from inside a burlap sack.
"What is that thing?" She whispered, afraid if she moved too much it'd spot them.
"That's the product of automation." The creature had six arms, and a heavy gait. "Ever since Lord Death let people's own souls guide themselves to the underworld, the stragglers have been getting eaten and turning people into Wraiths." It past by the car without a second glance. "I guess it doesn't think we're a couple either." He shrugged and reached for the car door.
"People are dying alone?" Cassandra's horror made him pause. He was about to say something, when the glass shattered. He grabbed her by the shoulder and both of them ducked as a bullet ripped through the car.
"About damn time!" He rolled out of the car and chased after the monster. A looming figure on spindly limbs, it walked waist high to the treetops. It was swarmed by attacks from all sides, and slowly fell to it's knees. All that was left behind was a corrupted red soul. She flinched, but no Ker or Fury came to collect it. It bobbed aimlessly in the air as White Star shoved it in a jar. He walked back to her and waved it for her to see. "People pay big money for us to exterminate these things. They're everywhere, and not always so nice." She took the jar, knowing only she could see how many threads this person had stolen to extend their own fate long past what it should have been. It shouldn't be possible. The dead shouldn't leave behind extra time. The corrupted soul in front of her had degraded into a shell of what it once was.
"How could he let this happen?" She asked. White Star took back the jar with a sigh.
"If they had a say, I'm sure they'd look like David Hasslehoff, but you don't get to be pretty and powerful I guess." He grinned at her. "It's not too late to go home." She felt ill. All her fallen sisters, none of them had a sympathetic soul in their corner when they died. No death spirits meant no witnesses. White Star's smug grin didn't last when his cousin punched him in the shoulder.
"You're going to get in so much trouble for this!" Genbu said. "Bringing an untrained mook as bait? Look at her, she's traumatized." White Star played keep-away with the jar. "This wasn't even your mission to take. Give it back!"
"It's not a Wraith." She said. "Whatever that thing was, it was alive."