The New Year's meeting was in full swing.
In a massive, highly decorative courtroom sat the council of sages, a group prized of many men and few women, sat at a long U-shaped desk with three much older men seated at the front at a much high level. They were debating the daily needs of their people and their surroundings as well as the ties they have to the outside world.
"We need more supplies to the South, the men are complaining about lack of building supplies," Pollux, one of the councilmen announced, he had white hair and balding, a wrinkled face with a large hooked nose, wearing white robes with a gold crest on the back and the royal brooch on his collar.
"We'll see to it," the third Head Sage said, bald and covered head to toe in fancy white robes shifted in his seat and the first Head Sage motioned to continue with the next issue.
Tyrone sat bored, fiddling with a pen nearby. He leaned back, running a hand through shoulder length, messy black hair. Light blue eye scanning the roof for something interesting. His uniform always felt uncomfortable, white coat with the royal brooch on the collar, dark grey button up and black slacks, resting around his belt under the coat was a silver decorative revolver he dubbed Black Rose due to the engraved rose on it.
Karratha, his younger brother, sat beside him making notes and performing his duty well. He had brown hair tided into a ponytail, he wore his coat buttoned up with a gold tie and brooch on proud display. He shifted through to a document about the royal family which he was currently in charge of.
The Head Sage called upon one of the six members, "what is the status of the New Year's celebration?"
One of the men below him spoke up, "Well, the food preparations are done, the musicians are practiced and ready, the guests have already arrived. However, the Princess has yet to make an appearance since this morning."
The Head Sage grumbled, "that brat, ever since the previous King and Queen passed, she's been nothing but trouble."
Tyrone gritted his teeth and folded his arms, glaring dangerously at the three Head Sages.
"Zoriel, we shouldn't speak ill about the princess," The Sage to the left sent the head sage a disapproving look. His hair was shaved both side with the top growing out long and combed back, he seemed middle aged in appearance but was much older than let on. He wore the same robes as the Sage on the right. "She was just a mere child who witnessed their death on her birthday, that is sure to leave some form of rebellion in her."
"She has been in therapy for four years now, nearly five," Zoriel growled. "She should at least know that this is an important event! None of the others before her were ever this troublesome."
Tyrone groaned, "I can't stand this anymore," He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, and turned towards the door.
Karratha grabbed his arm stopping him. "Hey, where are you going?" he whisper-yelled.
"I'm not going to sit here and listen to this bullshit. I'm going to find Kira, she's probably waiting at the training area for me."
"But the meeting—"
"What about the meeting?" he growled.
Karratha grimaced, a plea in his eyes but Tyrone turned away, giving a wave before walking out the door.
Kira sat in a large clearing surrounded by trees, resting her arms around her knees. Her hair was past her shoulders, her once vibrate purple eyes now a dull violet. She stared down at the grass, her training uniform was a black skin shirt with a high collar and no sleeves, a black sash around her waist, black baggy pants, gloves, and boots. The arena was filled with training equipment: dummies, a few weapons, combat areas obstacle courses.
She was waiting for Tyrone to come meet her after his meeting about the celebration tomorrow. She hated the New Year's Celebration. It was to bless the New Year with hope that they would survive another year in peace, build relations with the supporters and hope the new Head of the family doesn't die. But to Kira, it was just another reminder that she had to follow rules, especially those involving the Council, who had recently picked a young boy as her fiancé based on his linage and would be married to him the following year. She was only nine for crying out loud.
A sigh escaped her. It was all too much to think about.
She had avoided those ceremonies since she was five, finding them suffocating and unreasonable. Much like the laws of their society that royal members must follow. No fighting, no outsiders. All balls and celebrations must be attended, all rules must be obeyed. Kira made sure to follow none of them, grinning smugly as she broke each one with glee, watching those old windbags turn red as she did.
A twig broke, snapping Kira back to reality. She bolted up, grabbing Dark Angel on instinct, the hilt of a sword with a black wing guard and a long, tear drop end. Stood on the outskirts of the arena was a tall man.
He was not from this Island, she noted.
Tanned skin, gleaming yellow eyes, his sclera's were black, there’s a surprising familiarity in those eyes. His hair was parted over his left eye. He wore a long black cape with grey fur that covered his neck. A black vest over a dark grey puffy sleeved shirt buttoned at the cuffs. Black tights with bare feet. A dark aura pulsed from his being; his gaze hyper focused on Kira.
Without realising, she began to step back, he was only a few feet away now. She knew this man, he was the one who kill her parents, that’s why he was familiar to her. She stood frozen and trembling.
"Well, isn't this a surprise," his voice was deep and cunning, it sent a cold shiver down Kira's spine. "I wasn't aware there was a surviving Amoto left, considering I killed the last two remaining Royals four years ago."
She grits her teeth and tightened her grip on her sword hilt. Eye brows narrowing and her blood began to boil. Light sprouted from the hilt, forming a bright silver blade, the metal was specially known as Angel steal, a type of metal only found on the Island.
"Bastard!" Kira spat.
"Such foul language, Princess. Didn't they teach you to respect your elders?" his tone was mocking as he swayed from foot to foot.
She finally snapped, leaping forward with fierce pace, sword arched back. The man began to step back, easily dodging the attempt, but Kira was quick to recover and began furiously attacking him, with little success. The man had nothing but a smile as Kira had almost pushed him into a tree truck. He backed up against it, without thinking Kira reeled her sword back, blade pointed at the man's throat and charged forward-the tip stabbed the trunk instead.
The man flipped over her head, landing on his feet with grace. She whipped around, sword stuck in the trunk. The man's hand began to turn black and a misty aura surrounded it. A bad vibe brooding in her stomach but was quickly pushed aside as the man swung a clawed hand in her direction. Kira dived out of the way, rolling along the ground, and coming to her feet again. Now defenceless and mind racing. She was too far away from her only weapon and she didn't like the looks of the black claws.
What could she do? Kira was too out matched to fight this guy. She couldn't run away without him catching up to her and she knew Tyrone was still in his meeting. A cold sweat broke out across her forehead as the man righted himself.
"Good, it wouldn't have been any fun had you not dodged that." he turned to her again, bursting forward with black claws raised. Swinging left and right, Kira ducked and dodged as best she could. But this was beginning to look like it wasn't her fight.
Kira leapt back again just in time for her to miss an attack. Turning around ready to dodge another, since that was what this fight was about. She really wished she could get to her sword, but this man was blocking her from getting to it. He charged towards her again, she ducked, narrowly missing a nasty blow. But he reeled back quicker then she thought. Without any time to dodge, he sliced her shoulder. She cried out and rolled backwards as quickly as she could. It felt like touching liquid fire. Her shoulder was turning black and shaking like crazy. The burning was crawling over her body and it felt like her it was split open. The pain was unbearable, she almost felt like passing out.