Memories in Flames
She was born into a world stained red. Conflict after conflict weighed upon the people’s hearts, while desperation fanned the flames of their suspicion. Despotic statesmen abused their charges to breaking point, and the hatred of men spread upon the wings of war.
“And yet there was hope. A light so fierce it seared my eyes.”
She would never forget it. A single droplet of black ink that descended on a world bereft of hue. It had filled her vision with magnificent color, quickening a heart that before had beaten for nothing.
“Forgive me, Lord Hiro,” she whispered. Before her eyes, a fiery maelstrom raged.
A tear trickled from her azure eyes as she fell to her knees. There would be no escape for her, no salvation, not even the luxury of bemoaning her fate. A wall collapsed, as though the entrails of the building had been crushed by some great hand, and the flame-warmed rubble scorched her skin. Still, she felt no fear. The storm of violence held no terror for her.
“My path was fated to end here. Nobody is to blame, you least of all. This was destiny. I could never have eluded it.”
Abruptly, she was seized by a coughing fit. The room was filling with foreboding smoke, but this was not the cause. With her blessing to defend her, it could have done her no harm.
“Even now, my illness will not be denied.”
Her eyes narrowed sharply at the sight of the blood on her palm. She smiled bitterly, but as she closed her fingers as if to conceal it, her face took on a look of acceptance. She raised her eyes to the ceiling, where white smoke billowed.
“It must be raining out there.”
Her vision shimmered with a faint light. All at once, her eyes took on a mystical blue glow. Reflected in their depths was a boy clad in black. He cut down foe after foe as he sprinted across a battlefield, his features set in fierce determination.
“I have lived a happy life, Lord Hiro,” she whispered, willing her gratitude to reach him.
Her eyes reflected a night sky swollen with stars as she watched the carnage unfold. A world of tranquility and bliss unfolded in their depths.
“So do not grieve for me. Do not weep for me.”
The flames boiled her tears away as they trickled down her cheeks. Soon, no trails even remained to mark their passage. The inferno would have snatched away a lesser person’s consciousness, but her smile never faltered.
“At the end of your road, at the end of your despair, there is light. I have seen it.”
She had left nothing undone. Nothing undone...but she did have one regret. A future that no wish could make hers, but which nonetheless lingered in the depths of her heart.
“If I could have one thing... Just one thing...”
The unfulfilled desire stirred within her chest, demanding release.
“If I could be granted just one selfish request...”
She had never once bemoaned her fate, but this would be the sole exception.
“I would have wanted to live just a little longer!”
She bit her lip, fighting back tears, shaking her head as though to dispel the image in the back of her mind. With a bitter smile on her lips, she returned her gaze to the sea of hellfire.
“Let nothing stand in your way. Fix your eyes forward and run for as long as your feet will carry you.” She smiled at where he would never stand, where he would never come to her aid. “I will wait for ages. For eons. Until the end of time.”
She bowed her head to the boy who was not there. When she raised it again, her expression was calm and composed.
“Let us begin.”
Her voice was soft, sweet, and devoid of emotion—a pure white canvas. Solemn, beautiful, its touch lingered forever in the memory. It was truly the voice of the divine.
“Beyond despair awaits a future worth fighting for.”
Her golden hair streamed through the air, unblemished by the blaze, and her porcelain skin shone brighter than the flames. Her eyes, said to pierce through all, burned with an unbreakable will, refusing to falter at the despair they saw.
“And a world ruled by terror—a world of chaos—will birth naught but sorrow.”
Her last words were directed to the intruder who appeared within the flames. The figure approached slowly but surely, untouched by the blaze, at last coming to a stop before her.
“Tell me,” it said, “what know you of fear?”
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