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Prelude: Lore

Lore. It was a place where science and magic coexisted, and flourished. Where in other worlds, tradition and innovation clashed, in Lore they thrived together.

Lore was a vast, magnificent country. From its gleaming northern snow to the sparkling sea water down south, every place had its unique splendor. Even the bleak mountains tops and desolate deserts had a strange and primal beauty.

Lore’s cities were also a sight to behold. Some were ancient towns and settlements full of stone forts and weathered, old cobbled streets. There were charming little villages of whitewashed walls and well-groomed gardens, where everyone knew everyone else. Of course, there were also the giant metropolises, where vehicles fly in the air and zoom on the ground, where skyscrapers pierce through the clouds, reaching for the heavens.

For all its glory, Lore had shadows, too, along with not-so-secret secrets. It’s common knowledge that slavery was popular, especially in factories and homes of wealthy people; while some might treat their slave well, more often then not they were underfed, tortured, sometimes even worked to death. The people of Lore most ungratefully kidnap children from Earth, from which Lore was originally created, to use as slaves. They would mercilessly slaughter their family, then take the child.

That is not the worst. These slaves would have their memories taken. All they remembered of their home, their friends, their happier times, were gone, erased. It was for them to be less resistant, because without these memories, the slaves had no hope, no knowledge of better times. They would think this is how it’s supposed to be, they were tricked into believing their thankless work was a privilege, something to be proud of. They won’t fight back, they will never escape.

Chapter One: Pursuit

Lyria never once doubted her memories. She had precious few, and most of them were hazy, but they meant a great deal to her. It was the only thing keeping her sane in all her slavery and labor.

Her kidnappers had her prisoner for some times, though she can’t quite remember how long, exactly. She was then sold to a factory making handmade clothing for upper class women. Lyria was assigned to embroider, and she soon became one of the best. Perhaps Lyria’s happier memories came through to her works.

She was taken from home a long time ago. So long ago, Lyria could almost forget her parents. Almost.

Strangely, her master’s memory wipes never did work properly. Lyria had a strong hold on some of her more fondly remembered memories; no matter how many times they tried, they could never pry them from her grasp. Of course, Lyria soon learned to pretend the wipes worked, so she wouldn’t have to be subjected to it time and time again. Who know, the wipes might actually work sometime, and she wouldn’t risk that.

Life was hard there. She wasn’t paid, even though her capturers said the food and housing given to her were more than enough. She was an earthling. They were the lowest of the low, especially since they’re without a drop of magic.

Lyria embroidered in the factory, the dresses and robes ordered by rich and usually over weight women had to be custom made by hand. It’s a tiring job, but she learned a lot from it. She learned patience, for one, a quality that’s worth its weight in gold. Just not gold for me, she always mused.

Lyria never quite given up of escaping the place, so she was on her way to an out-of-the-way window when —

“Wha’ are yeh doin’, yeh lil’ b***h?” Lyria jumped from fright. Her boss’s speech was slurred, the last word spitted out of his vile month, his accent thick and harsh. “Thinkin’ yeh can run orf again, lil good-fer-nothin’ earthlin’? I tell yeh, nothin’ll come ‘ther tha beatin’s!” He smiled maliciously. “An’ I ain’ go’ no problem with usin’ them whips!”

Lyria stumbled backwards intuitively, moving away from the man, and crashed out the window, wincing as the shattering glass cut into her flesh. The man ran at her, wobbling, and cursed when he found the window too small to allow him through. Then he remembered he could use magic, and was in front of her in a flash.

Seeing the furious face in front of her, Lyria cringed, and knew there was no way to run. Eyeing the crop hanging from his belt, Lyria braced her body and closed her eyes, but instead, she felt a fat, greasy hand going up and down the length of her arm. The sickening smell of alcohol surrounded her and she knew he was close. She did her best not to gag, though goose bumps were forming on her skin. She was disgusted by his touch, yet she knew struggling would only make it worse. But even as she told herself to bear it, the hand went to her chest, and she flung open her eyes. Not thinking about the consequences, she slapped the man hard and somehow scratching him. The scratches started to bleed.

Grabbing her chance, Lyria ran again, hoping for some kind of miracle, for she knew she is doomed without one.

“YEH LIL’ b***h!!!!” after realizing what he has done, the man went out of control and with a wave of his hand, the fallen glasses rose from the floor and darted toward Lyria.

Following an instinct she never knew she had, Lyria turned left onto an empty street, dodging the glass shards. But the pieces followed her into the alleyway, threatening to puncture her. She practically flew, running at an impossible speed.

“Run, girl, run all yeh wan’! I’ll catch yer, yeh can run ter the en’orf the world, an’ I’ll still catch yer!” the man cackled madly. He chased the girl; his excess fat didn’t seem to bother him at all, all the while making things chase after her and yelling obscenities at the top of his lungs. Though he was panting, a little bit.

Despite the constant stream of random objects pursuing her, Lyria was able to outrun all of them, but as a consequence of her blind sprint on a busy street, she almost ran over a dozen people, resulting in even more profanities directed at her. Finally, a mean-looking dog decided to bite, and clung tightly on Lyria’s pants, stalling her for half a second. At the sight of glass, nails and other sharp objects flying at it, however, the dog whimpered and padded away, leaving Lyria free to run again.

Unfortunately, Lyria could not dodge them this time. Instantly, indescribable pain coursed through Lyria’s body as the objects hit her. Struggling not to scream, Lyria simply crumbled on the ground and closed her eyes, feeling her life blood flowing out of her, her whole body trembling. You’ve been through this many times, she lied to herself, trying to make it easier, one more time won’t make a difference.

Suddenly, as abruptly as the pain came, she was free from it. Even with closed eyes, Lyria saw flashing red light. She heard the dull thump of a body falling on the ground with a smoky odour. Opening her eyes, she saw the blurry outline of a person in black, his jacket swishing. She felt herself being picked up, the movement hurting her wounded body. The body against hers felt cool. Surprisingly, the icy temperature soothed Lyria. As if assured she was safe, she allowed her eyelids to fall again.

Memories: Left Me

In front of a warm fireplace, a woman and her daughter sat and talked. It was Christmas Eve, and there were festive decorations everywhere. An enormous Christmas tree was standing next to the fire place, filled with wool snow and plastic faeries and other such things. The house was full of warmth and happiness.

“Mom.” The girl whined.

“Yes, my dear?”

“I don’t wanna go to school anymore!”

“Why, dear? You like school, don’t you? Is something wrong?” turning to face her daughter, the woman looked intently into the girl’s eyes. The book warned pre-teens are a bit dramatic and easily upset, is this what it’s talking about?

“But, Mom! I just don’t wanna go to that school any more! I’ll go to, like, that church school you told me about or something!” Seeing her mom didn’t like her request, the girl was silent for a long time, obviously considering something. Her mother didn’t say anything either.

“Um…At school, you know, people tease you, right?” The woman nodded. “Well, my classmates said…said that I’m not your real child!” The girl exclaimed. “Like, you and Dad picked me out of an orphanage or something! They said their parents told them I was left to you by my real parents and they made you take care of me! They said you’re only keeping me because you have to, and that you’ll leave me as soon as you have the chance! They said you hate me!” The girl was hysterical by the time she finished, for everything she said came from her private nightmares. “Please, Mom, tell me they’re wrong! Tell me they’re wrong and everything will be alright and I can go to another school! Please, please, please!” Her voice died down to a whimper, and girl wept, gasping as sobs tore out of her lungs. It was pitiful sight.

The woman did nothing to try to comfort her daughter. Something, fear, perhaps, or maybe guilt, flashed in the woman’s eyes. But it soon vanished, the woman turning towards the front doors, where someone was knocking.

“I’ll get it, dear!” the girls father shouted. He was at the kitchen, putting the final touches on the turkey for dinner.

The mother was surprised by the guests, for they all their friends and relatives were eating Christmas dinner with their own family. So it must be strangers. Uninvited strangers. Still, she did nothing to console the girl. There was a hard edge to the woman’s eyes, and she glanced at the calendar, where December 24 was marked with a red pen. The marker so viciously drew the rough circle, that the paper was a little ripped and crumpled.

The woman remembered the strangers at the door, and dragged the still weeping girl up, toward the door. The strangers didn’t talk. As soon as her father opened the door, a gun sounded. The girl screamed, and the woman went ghastly pale. The strangers walked into the living room.

The girl would remember what happened for the rest of her life. Her mother pulled the girl behind her fiercely, the hard glint of determination, and strangely, grim triumph, in her eyes. I will do this until the bitter end!

“What do you want!” the woman demanded, but her voice broke. Her eyes filled with overwhelming relief, and she eyed her dead husband longingly. Her daughter couldn’t see her. “Leave now! You have n –”

Another gun shot, and the girl stared in horror, wide eyed, all crying forgotten. A chill ran through her, but she was so scared, she couldn’t even scream anymore. Oddly, the strangers simply picked her up, and dumped her on the curb. They burned down the house, and left, taking the girl with them. All through this, she could only stare, wide eyed. Something was blown to her, a shiny piece of plastic. It had been on the Christmas tree once.

The stranger destroyed her life, as easily as they had burned the Christmas tree.

~~~~~~~

She was somehow brought to another world, by what she now thinks of as her kidnappers. She was an earthling, and had no place in this much more advanced magical world.

It was Christmas, a day after her parents died. At least she thought it was. It felt like a lifetime ago when she was talking with her mom. She was shivering, less from the winter frost than from the knowledge that no one will be there to save her, no one will tell her everything is alright.

She was standing outside a medium sized building. The girl could see no lights, no decorations for the holiday. Despite herself, she was quite puzzled. The girl was young, only nine years old, and the world was still simple to her. She thought there were lights and decorations everywhere on Christmas. There always were, in her home. But I have no home now, she thought, suddenly. I have no one, they all left me. She smiled venomously, filled with ridiculous anger for her parents, Just as they wanted to.

~~~~~~~

When Lyria woke, she was trembling. She had once thought the dream stopped haunting her, but as the memory of that night came back with startling clarity, she knew it was too much to hope for. Like so many other things, she thought bitterly. It took sometime for Lyria to shake off the dream and realise she was in an unfamiliar room. She was puzzle, what happened? I remember I was runni--

Lyria sat up suddenly when she remembered the terrible chase before. She was prepared to bolt when the door opened.

“You are awake?” asked a smooth and melodious voice.

Lyria flung around, and found herself staring at a handsome young man in his late twenties. The strangest sensation filled her, and something clicked, a lock on one of her mind’s doors. She felt as if she had known this man since the beginning of time, and yet she doesn’t even know his name!

He had hair blacker than night and sharp, well defined features as if carved by a loving sculptor. A very good sculptor, she thought, smiling despite herself. She didn’t get to see anyone so good looking often.

“Who are you?” Lyria demanded, fighting her urge to jump up and hug him. “Do I know you?”

“Do you not know, Miss Celest?” The stranger was mildly surprised, for her expression of recall moments ago suggested otherwise, “I am simply…someone who can use your assistance.”

“What do you —how can I possibly help you? And what happened to the factory”

“It’s not there any more. I believe you don’t wish to return to that place?”

“No, but—”

“Since you are happy with that, other matters can be discussed later. Over breakfast. I’m sure you’re hungry, you’ve been here for five days.” The man eyed her up and down, and, smirking, turned to leave.

“Breakfast is at 7, you can choose to come later, some food will be left for you.” The stranger added over his shoulder, “But I expect you to come.”

“Oh,” was all she could say. She has been here for five days? She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The optimistic part of her was already dancing the Cha Cha, but the other part of her was full of doubt.

She didn’t know what to think, it all seemed too good to be true. The factory’s gone? I’m free? But this man – he had an unexplainable pull over her, and she decided it wouldn’t hurt to stay around, at least to find out who he is. If it was a dream, she’d rather not wake up…if not, then – I’ll see.



-self explanatory. Tell me what you think