Unusually dark and thick clouds covered the sky over the small town in Crystalia.

Fiona stood by the window, observing the slow motion of the water-filled cotton. No soul was left wandering outside since the air smelled too much like rain. The overheating of the ground during the past week hinted at a storm forming somewhere far away; with each second it was getting closer. Beside her, on a small round wooden table rested a crystal spear. It had been about twenty years since she had last used it, yet the feeling of the rough material rested soundlessly on her, now wrinkled, hands.

Fiona Roswell was a living legend. She used to be the best in every imaginable way: she held herself perfectly straight, knew the solution to every problem, and got rid of every nuisance of the Headquarters. She was perfection itself until she fell in love. Then she begun slouching, forgetting, and mourning. By the time her son was born, no trace of once an undefeatable pillar was left; instead of her now stood a mother who deliberately became a traitor. And she regretted nothing.

Fiona pulled her hair into a ponytail as the first drop of rain hit the overheated ground; pitch black and sticky. She grabbed her sword and inhaled deeply as she walked down the street. The air was worse than she had expected; the smoke had mixed with the sultry Earth skin and made it hard not only to breathe, but to exist in the time and space. The streets were empty. It was that emotional charge of the molecules that scared the inhabitants into their homes. They closed the doors and covered the windows with curtains; still, they would feel them fight for their future.

The army dressed in black closed the gap between them and Fiona with loud steps. She found it funny how they came the moment her son and Diane Hunster left; but then again, predicting Diane Hunster was never an easy job.

It would be a nuisance to have her return in the middle of the fight. And it is as likely that she will return tomorrow as it is that she be alive and ready to turn them to dust. What a ridiculous character!

Fiona smiled at their leader. She expected to see him there: the one who betrayed the Crystalian kind, the one who spread the ominous black liquid with every step he took. He was a sorcerer everyone feared but had never seen. Truth be told, he was more of a legend than a man of the truth; a mere Crystalian became a misty appearance of cloudy brains. His ability was quite strange, though: he drew his power from the magmatic core of the planet: black and sticky liquid that made its way into every horrifying story known to men. But Fiona knew he was just a coward who switched sides hoping for a bigger slice of the cake. She knew, because he was once her teammate. They saved eachother’s lives too many times to be afraid of what he had become; they were both traitors, after all. And so, Fiona marched towards the town center. It had never been so empty; not a single eye to match hers, not a sound to fill her ears, only that Hunster monster.

“What do you want?” she asked.

"I must say I didn't expect our next encounter to be here. I suddenly miss the days when we fought side by side," he told her, a mask covering his face; his dyed blonde hair made him look more ridiculous. “I am lead destroy. Care to join?”

Fiona smiled. "You've aged quickly. You look older than me with that new style of yours."

His lips curled upwards as he pushed his hair into his hood. “You have been given a second chance at choosing. What will it be?”

Fiona griped her spear as her hand started shaking. “Tell your God I am far too old for star-crossed lovers.”

The hood covered his eyes completely, so Fiona was unable to see them shift towards involuntary fear and madness. The atmosphere tensed up. Long, sharp, and playful black fingers spread out from Fiona's feet. The two clashed with a loud bang; their feet shattered the city center further and set off the infant alarms that hid behind the curtains.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear: “Glad to see you haven’t changed.”

“Try not to die,” she responded.

Fiona tried to push her spear through his stomach but the shield he had created trapped it midway. Then the liquid started climbing up her weapon, forcing her to drop it, jump backwards, and pull two knives out of her sheath. They had clashed so in the past when he was a Raven and not some demonic fairytale. Fiona’s shadows then filled the space around her enemy and trapped him in a nightmarish cage before the liquid spurring from his hands made her unable to move her feet. There was dust and smoke, so much smoke Fiona could barely breathe.

Only then did the Demon army charge forward. Fiona could smell her doom from where they last stood. There were too many Demons to count, and they were all too eager to rip her open for her to defend herself for long. She cut one or two of them before two arrows flew right into her tights and ripped up her muscles. Then someone slashed her hand and pushed metal trhough her hip and, once again, mixed red with black.

They say that, right before your life ends, you see flashes of every moment you have lived through. Vivid and clear, pictures painted before your eyes arouse emotions you never knew were building up within yourself. Fiona saw her son's birth, his beautiful eyes and small hands; her stealing the map and escaping, and its haunting her every night. At the end came Diane Hunster, her dark hair and eyes, the uncanny similarity with her father, and the golden 'R' that carried so much meaning. Lying on the ground with a red stain spreading from her hip, she watched a red-eyed monster aim his sword towards her heart. She closed her eyes. She had lived her life lying for what she believed in, never once regretting it. Until she showed up. Fiona never knew a girl so green could turn her life around: the mother once so obsessed with protecting her son from what his destiny had decided, let him charge head-on into an enormous tide, hoping that the girl with countless scars would teach him how to swim. But she would only let him crash and burn. Fiona knew now was the worst time to leave him behind.

A scream interrupted her peace. The Demons were disoriented, trying to save their lives. Like ants before the storm, they ran around the streets of the empty town. Chased by five girls whose uniforms resembled Fiona’s, they begged for mercy. But the girls didn't listen. Killing was their job after all. Before Fiona, like a brick wall, suddenly appeared a tall girl with a bow. She aimed flawlessly, never allowing her enemy to come a step too close. Her hair was dyed a strange bluish color with purple highlights, cut right under her ears. As she pulled an arrow towards her face, Fiona noticed her perfectly molded back muscles tense up.

"Do you plan on staying here, Mrs. Roswell?" she asked in a low tone.

Fiona was taken aback. "Who are you?" she muttered, wondering how she hadn’t bled to death.

"Diane sent me," the girl replied, her voice shaken by the force she used to free an arrow. “Technically.”

Only then did Fiona allow her body to relax and dive into the land of the impossible. Her life was now in steady hands. Whether they were ravens or doves, birds of prey would bring her salvation. This time. Then there was darkness, smooth and never-ending. She saw red eyes and blond hair. She knew the truth. All of it. So, why did she never tell? Did she not want to? Was she afraid? Why did she let her son be an ignorant fool and not a monster who swallows moons? And most importantly, why did she let Diane Hunster live a false life? Could she not have told that she had been living a lie? That nothing she had spilt blood for was true? Why couldn’t she see that the Dove would do anything to protect her Fool? Because it was him, not Diane Hunster. Him for Diane Hunster.

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Never.

And so, time passed, surrounded by complete darkness, with no sounds, only eerie red eyes. Was it Clara Heal that stared into her soul so? Was she demanding redemption? No, she only wanted sacrifices. Two sinners on her throne, one mad from exhaustion, the other from lack of faith. Lands as red as her bloody eyes. As her wishes. Her future.

No future.

Fiona shivered. Her fingers slowly traced the edges of the bandages covering her wound. Soaked in smelly red, rough, and once too white, they covered the left side of her stomach.

"Are you sure this is alright?" she heard a voice coming from her kitchen.

She was brought round by an unpleasant creepiness. Feeling uncomfortable in her skin, her eyes snapped open, and she lifted her body into a sitting position. Through the fresh wound ran an army of painful tingles, yet she didn't lie back down. Penetrating, soft blue eyes were the ones that now stared into Fiona's soul. On the couch, next to her legs, sat a young woman with baby pink hair. She chewed on a few wavy locks coming from her two side ponytails.

The girl tilted her head a bit. "You should lie down. Kyla said you're badly hurt," she mumbled, her mouth full of hair.

"Who are you?" Fiona asked nervously. She didn't like the look in the strange girl's eyes. They seemed lost in some far-away scenery.

"Why?" she said in the same monotone low tone. "Am I disturbing you?"

"Yes!" Fiona replied, a bit annoyed. "And answer my question!"

"It's useless," a voice said from Fiona's left. "She never listens."

Fiona watched as Diane folded the newspaper she was reading. She looked at least five years older than she did when she left Lewtown. Her sharp jawline was more distinguished, her cheekbones more protruding. A face without color looked straight at the injured woman. She wasn't wearing her usual uniform either. Instead, an extravagant long black dress covered her body. On her head rested a small black cap with a black see-through material stretched to cover her eyes. She had a few band aids on her face; perfectly clean, white bandages crept out from her long, black gloves. She looked horrifying.

"When did you get back?" Fiona asked, shocked by the sight.

"Six days ago," Diane replied. "You were asleep. We arrived not long after it was over." She opened the newspaper again. “They are saying the town was attacked as a warning to the crown. That the recent happenings are too strange.” She smiled. “The crown was plotting something. And while I was away. How discourteous.”

The princess looked at her, but Fiona didn't feel her gaze. She was empty, soulless, and unpleasant to be around.

“Don’t you think all of this is too ridiculous? I mean, we are risking our lives here. And what are they doing? Turning their heads away,” Diane suddenly commented, leaning forward and looking into Fiona’s eyes with too much intensity.

Fiona blinked. “But were they given a chance to participate? You’ve been keeping this a secret for centuries…”

“Because they are not capable of carrying this weight,” Diane replied. The burden on her back was getting heavier and heavier. “It is all so out in the open. They just refuse to notice it. Anyone with a brain would…” She stopped abruptly. “I appologize.”

“Do you think Lila had something to with this?” the pink-haired girl asked out of the blue.

“Probably,” Diane replied, looking out the window.

“They wanted to kill everyone,” the blue-eyed girl said with a smile. “You weren’t obedient enough, you know.”

“Obedient?” Diane repeated.

“Yes. You’ve already made one crack. This makes it two. Now they want to make you crack. That’s what the Judge said.”

Diane run her hands through her hair. “What are you going on about? You haven’t seen the Judge in months.”

“I’m just warning you… You better get your act together or…”

“Kiara, please, I’m too tired for your nonsense,” Diane replied, knowing that she had one too many burdens to carry; the truth had to wait.

“Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Kiara had her fingers in her mouth this time; she was aggressively biting her nails.

"Where's Thomas?" the mother plucked up enough courage to interrupt them and ask.

Diane looked in a daze. "At a funeral."

Fiona's heartbeat fastened. She could feel the echoes up in her throat. "Whose?"

The pink-haired girl laughed burst out laughing. She moved her body to the left, stopping centimeters away from Fiona's face. "George Brown is dead!"

At that moment, Diane looked unbelievably like her father. Her expressionless face screamed for help; her crystal eyes drowned in the heavy truth as she looked at her subordinate. "Kiara," she told the strange girl, "will you please leave?"

"Why?" Kiara responded.

The princess patiently replied: "Because I said so."

“We even broke the rules because you said so. I wonder what we will have to do this time?” the girl chuckled and skipped out of the room.

Once they were alone, Diane crossed the small space and sat beside Thomas's mother. From there, Fiona noticed the awful purple and black circles under her eyes as well as the red swelling that covered them.

"I found the Grave," the princess began as if they hadn’t crossed swords in that same room, "and I've read the Will. My mission is now complete."

“Is he truly…” Fiona tried to ask but was cut off by Diane.

“Yes. Jeremy Blake as well.”

Fiona watched her in horror. If there wasn't for the horrible shape Diane was in, she never would have guessed the princess had lost two of her companions. There was nothing sorrowful or disturbed in her words and tone, nothing to indicate the hell she had been going through over the past few days.

"Are you alright?" Fiona asked suggestively.

"We couldn't take the bodies with us." Diane’s large, dark eyes unexpectedly met Fiona's. "They buried empty coffins."

Fiona could see it clearly, Diane’s urge to rip her royal chest open. Putting her hand over her mouth, Fiona silenced horrified cries. Every moment of fear she had experienced since Diane showed up came back to haunt her, and she knew the son could have been hers. She was glad George’s mother was dead.

Diane put her hand on Fiona's. "Tell me about the attack."

Fiona quickly cleaned her eyes, took a deep breath, and said: "They saved my life."

Diane nodded. "They are my subordinates. They were supposed to be here months ago but there was a certain... complication. We’ve managed to capture that man. Timidus, was it?"

“Yes,” said Fiona, too distressed to utter another syllable.

“He is Crystalian, no?”

“Yes.”

“So, he was there at the ball,” Diane said to herself. “How curious this situation is, don’t you think, Mrs. Roswell? ” The princess raised her hand, and the blue-haired girl walked in. “And now it seems I have a mole in my orders.”

"Yes, captain?" she said as she confidently stood before Diane.

"This is Kyla. I believe you've met her," Diane explained.

Fiona nodded in response, tears still coming down her face, only silently. "Thank you."

"It was an honor," Kyla responded before turning back to Diane. "Captain, I believe there are things we must discuss."

Diane suddenly stood up, evidently lost. "Yes, yes, we must. Oh, but first," she quickly turned towards Fiona and looked into her eyes so intensely Fiona’s wounds all started hurting at the same time. “Will you be kind enough to explain to me how you know this man?”

“Oh,” Fiona stuttered, “he used to be a Raven.”

“Did he now?” said Diane. “And why was he at the Grand Ball?”

“I-I don’t…”

“Is it possible that he didn’t betray Ravens, but was simply ordered to join the Demon army? No, there is no way,” Diane commented and left Fiona alone with her thoughts.

The woman gently lay back down and stared at the ceiling, trying to push her feelings back inside. A few girls walked in and stood by the door, but none felt the need to say anything. Fiona observed them for a while, then drifted off into the beautiful land of the notional. Once she had opened her eyes, she saw her son sitting next to her, gently stroking her hair.

Thomas smiled at her. "Good morning. Have you slept well?"

His voice was tired and husky, his face red and swollen. Fiona pulled his body towards her, and he embraced her tightly. A tear rolled down her cheek and met his light hair.

"Welcome home."