The princess paced frantically in her chamber, The rich, golden filigree of the palace had long ceased to dazzle her; its opulence had become a cage. Nine years of courtly life had trained her to speak with elegance, to curtsy with precision, to embody perfection. Yet, in moments of anxiety, her carefully constructed facade cracked, and she stomped about like a child having a tantrum. The floor beneath her showed the evidence—a faint, circular groove worn by years of fretful pacing.
“My lady, you’ll wear down your heels again,” said Michelle, her chief aide, in a voice proper almost emotionless tone. She stood by the door, arms crossed, watching her mistress with a mix of patience and exasperation.
“I don’t care about the heels, Michelle!” Airi snapped, yanking at her shoes in a futile effort to prove her point. Instead, she tripped, landing unceremoniously on the floor. “This is going to be a disaster,” she moaned.
Michelle stepped forward, her tone as calm as ever. “The king and his planners have ensured that the wedding will proceed without incident.”
“But they didn’t ‘incident-proof’ me! I’m going to trip, or drop the ring, or something humiliating!” Airi exclaimed, moving her brunette curls from her eyes.
Michelle placed steady hands on Airi’s trembling shoulders, forcing her to still. “My lady,” she said, her voice dropping to a rare note of seriousness, “do you no longer wish to marry?”
“It’s not that,” Airi murmured, her stormy expression softening. “I want this to be perfect. For my father. For my mother, if she’s watching. I just… I don’t want to disgrace them.”
Michelle’s reply was wordless but decisive. In a swift motion, she tightened the back of Airi’s dress so she could no longer move carelessly without ripping the dress, effectively imprisoning her in its frilled confines. Airi gasped in surprise.
“You—! I can’t believe you!” the princess fumed, her cheeks flushing with indignation.
“Apologies, my lady,” Michelle said with a slight bow, her face betraying no emotion. “If it helps, you look perfect.”
Airi couldn’t tell if it was a genuine compliment or Michelle’s signature sarcasm. Either way, she had no choice but to sit quietly, her nerves simmering beneath the surface, until her father arrived. The king entered the room with the gravity of a man who had long since mastered the art of hiding his feelings.
“It’s time,” he announced, his voice a deep monotone.
“Yes, my lord,” Airi replied, her voice shaky. He stepped closer, brushing her bangs aside in an uncharacteristically tender gesture. The warmth of it startled her.
“You are no longer a bastard,” he said firmly. “You are to be a queen. You will address me as ‘father.’”
“Yes, Father,” she murmured, taking his offered hand. Together, they walked through the palace halls to the cathedral, its towering arches filled with sunlight and expectation. Rows of nobility stood to greet her, their eyes heavy with judgment as she stepped down the aisle toward Prince Jeremiah Raddwell, her husband-to-be.
Jeremiah was as striking as his portraits—tall, with swept-back blonde hair and a serene smile. As her father placed her hand in his, her stomach churned. But when he leaned in and whispered, “It’s nice to meet you,” the unexpected gentleness of his voice steadied her.
“R-right” she whispered back with a quake in her voice. She never thought he’d speak to her, especially not during the officiating.
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“You’re shaking. If you’re scared or don’t want to do this, I’ll call it off” he said with a reassuring smile.
“I don’t mind” she replied, her voice was calmer now and though her shaking had subsided.
“Prince Jeremiah Raddwell, do you promise to cherish Princess Airi Aeltear always, to honor and sustain her, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to her in all things until death alone shall part you?” said the preacher
“I do…” Jeremiah answered him confidently.
“Princess Airi Aeltear l, do you promise to cherish Princess Airi Aeltear always, to honor and sustain her, in sickness and in health, in poverty and in wealth, and to be true to her in all things until death alone shall part you?” said the preacher
“I-” But just as she opened her mouth to vow, an explosion tore through the cathedral, shaking the foundations and plunging the room into chaos. Darkness descended like a shroud, muffling screams and reducing everything to a panicked blur.
Airi barely registered the hand on her head before she reacted on instinct, grabbing the arm in a swift motion. The darkness dispersed in an instant, as if broken by Airi’s touch. The light revealed she was not holding Jeremiah, but a masked boy in black, his face obscured by a horned, white mask.
He paused as startled as she was. Before she could scream, he wrapped an arm around her, pressing a cold pistol to her temple. The cathedral fell silent. Guards poured in, weapons drawn, but the boy was already retreating, dragging her toward the exit.
“Kill both of them!” the king bellowed, his voice trembling with fury
“Dammit…” The boy exclaimed.
Gunfire erupted, but the masked boy raised his hand, summoning a shimmering black barrier that deflected the bullets. With a calculated sigh, he slung Airi over his shoulder and activated a strange device strapped to his chest. A countdown began—three minutes.
“What’s happening?!” Airi shouted, struggling in his grip.
The boy didn’t answer. The barrier cracked under the barrage of gunfire, forcing him to act. He launched them upward by thrusting them with a wave of darkness, crashing through the cathedral ceiling in a burst of shadowy energy. As they soared over the castle town, Airi caught her breath, only to see a familiar figure hurtling toward them: Michelle.
The boy’s mask betrayed surprise as Michelle grabbed his leg mid-air and flung them both back to the ground with superhuman force. He twisted to shield Airi as they landed in a pool of shadow that morphed into a galloping black horse. The beast sprinted through the city streets, dodging bullets and debris, but Michelle was relentless, matching the pace of a magical steed with inhuman speed alone.
“Blade Dance: Razor Gale!” Michelle’s voice rang out as a sharp gust of wind tore through the air. The boy deflected the attack with another barrier, but Michelle’s second strike decapitated the shadowy horse.
They hit the ground hard. The boy clung to Airi, placing the device on her back. The countdown ticked to its final minute.
"Who are you?" Airi managed, her voice trembling.
The boy didn’t answer. Instead, he tightened his grip, preparing for whatever came next as Michelle stood in their path.
Michelle swiped her arms, firing off numerous Razor Gales at the two. The boy dodged the attacks by running but both he and Airi noticed he didn’t come close to matching Michelle’s speed. It was only a matter of time before they were cornered.
The boy sighed again before suddenly flinging Airi into the air with one arm. With the other he summoned a shadow sword. Michelle, her attention split by the soaring Airi who screamed with the fear of death, left herself open to attack. The boy swiftly took advantage and swung his blade at her lower torso, aiming to bisect her with one blow.
“Blade dance: Sword skin” Steel blades sprung from Michelle’s skin, stopping the blade from penetrating her, however the sheer strength of the boy still sent Michelle flying through a nearby building. Kicking up dust and smoke
“Shadow trigger: Black Volts” a mass of dark lightning formed in his hand, and he threw it in michelle’s direction. Michelle screamed in agony before going quiet. The boy jumped into the air and retrieved the still screaming Airi as the last ten seconds ticked away.
“Blade dance: Gale Rapier” Michelle shouted. The boy had misread her durability and now he and Airi would be pierced by the pointed blade of air. At Least that’s what should've happened. Instead Michelle’s attack only penetrated the boy’s right shoulder. She had just refused to kill Airi.
The timer hit zero, a burst of thunder wrapped around Airi and the boy holding her in his arms. Michelle jumped after them but it was too late. A bright light flashed and when it cleared, Airi and the boy were gone.
“My lady…” Michelle remarked, defeated.