Lightning danced across a blackened sky. Clouds rolled and swirled around each other. Heavy rain and hail falling to the earth. The earth heaving and shuddering under the strain as titanic forces battled with each other. The city burning around them as buildings toppled into the ground. The screams of tens of thousands of people added to the cacophony of sound. Above the sounds of screams and violence was singing. The song was beautiful in a language that she could not understand.

The sword swung across her vision. Golden and ornate. The blade was nearly four feet long and glowing in a golden halo. Set with gems and other precious metals she knew the blade was part of her. It was wielded by another, this figure was cloaked in shadows, even with the golden light of the sword she could not make anything out about this figure. And yet she continued to sing, giving her sword and its wielder power she did not understand but felt it in her soul that it was the right thing to do.

The golden sword clashed with a sword of black and purple. Were the golden sword radiated, this sword absorbed. Where the golden soul was pure, this sword was corrupted. But there was a power in this corruption. Seeping into the world around it, urging others to give in. The other song was like a sirens. So sweet in its melody but if you listened closely you could hear how wrong it was, but if you listened to closely it would snare your soul and you would fall just like they did.

The one wielding this blade was lost in shadows as well. Deep shadows that were so dark it hurt to look at them for too long. The only other she could make out was this siren who sang the song so opposite her own. Skin so fair, it was like freshly fallen snow. Without mark or blemish upon it. Hair black as night with lips as red as rubies. Eyes that shifted with the strangest colors that had no words to describe them fully. She was dressed in a way that invoked pain. Her corset tight around her chest and midsection. Around her bust was barbed fabric that pricked against her skin, but never pierced it. Her arms were left bare but that same barbed fabric wrapped around her arms. Wearing little more than leather over her private parts that too had barbed fabric around the waist and thighs. Her legs were getting the same treatment as her arms. Her song pained, giving the wielder far more power than she should have been able to, but at the cost of the Siren.

The battle between the four of them was bringing the city to ruin. Each time the swords clashed the emotional echo rippled out from them bringing further chaos to the city. Everything that was happening was part of one discordant song. She had to last longer than the other siren, she had to provide power to the sword that was so much a part of her, and through it the one who wielded such power. She knew she trusted this individual. She knew she should love this individual. Here they were at the end of it all, battling in the ruins of the city she called home with an enemy she knew she should hate.

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She couldn’t make out what she was wearing. It was changing with her song. Radiant and pure. Hers was a battle of wills against this siren. Each attempting to overpower the other with their song which powered the one who wielded those weapons they had given. So tired, but she knew she couldn’t stop, couldn’t give into the siren or everything they had accomplished would have been for nothing.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Josidia rolled over and touched her hand to the alarm clock. The same strange dream again. It never ended. She never got to see how the dream ended. She never got to know who the shadowed figures were. Only that siren was as clear as day to her. And it was a woman she had never met or seen before. Making no sense to her she pushed the dream away from her and got out of bed.

Tall and fit for her age Josidia was by many who knew her stunning to behold. Tan skin and long black hair. Blue eyes that sparkled the seas. She was of mixed descent. Her mother was of Japanese descent, her father Eastern European. Growing up on the West Coast of the United States she knew of a life of privilege. Going to the finest schools and graduating at the top of her class. She was soon to finish college and start her life. 

She went to the park for her morning jog. There were people out and about going their own routines. Paying little attention to them as she listened to her music while jogging. Something at the back of her mind was nagging her, telling her something was different today than any other day.

Near the jogging trail was a woman practicing with a wooden sword with the rest of her class. A sign in the ground that read “Awaken yourself.” As this woman looked up their eyes met and she knew. This was the siren of her dreams. Stumbling as she ran, she felt as if the air had been sucked out of her lungs. Struggling to breath she felt a burning in her chest. In those moments it took for her to recover, her vision swam and the memories of her dream came back to her.

In the span of a few heartbeats she recovered before anyone noticed that something was wrong. That siren smiled to her as if she knew what had just happened. Deciding it was better to head home rather than push herself further.

Once she was safely back home she stripped of her clothes to get in the shower. Looking at herself in the mirror is when she noticed that where the burning was on her chest was a small mark. Unable to know what it was she got in the shower in an attempt to wash it off. As the steam filled the room, that strange sensation that she was not alone came back to her.

Awaken. Awaken. Awaken.

It was written on the glass and anything that the steam touched that could be seen.

Dizziness overcame her. Darkness dancing in the corners of her eyes. As she began to black out she heard a voice.

“Awaken, for you are Sword-Born”