Chapter Text
"𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝. 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐚 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐚 𝐧𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐓𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭."
— 𝐑𝐞𝐧é 𝐁𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐪, 𝐑𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐀𝐫𝐤
~
The stars are particularly bright tonight, she mused. The teacup in her hands slowly “clinked” with each stir of the spoon, its delicate echo permeating the air as its mistress stared above. A sky of infinite constellations, infinite shades of galactic blues, pinks, purples, and even black bled into one, a forming nebulae of each own’s design. And in those very skies, the stars stuck out like dots, and to a keen eye, one could even see them move as they formed their celestial patterns. A small smile formed on her face as she took a sip. “Quite bright tonight, indeed.” She mused outloud. She took another stir of her cup, trying to blend the sugars in, but just before she could lift it to her lips, she paused. A small thought crossed her mind, a peculiar one that rung in the back of her head. She let out a small, mildly curious hum. ”I wonder…”
Hurriedly, she dug into her pockets, wringing them out until she found the object of her desire. A silver pocket watch . Opening up the cover, she took a moment to look at the time, before lightly gasping.
“Oh! Nearly lost track of time.” She said, with a slight chuckle. She was almost late for the appointment. Tsk. Couldn’t have that happening.
Standing up from her chair, she carefully placed her cup down and brushed off whatever dust she perceived to be on her, before looking down on her body in satisfaction. Fortunately, not a crumb or speck of dust to alter its appearance, and not a wrinkle in sight- oh, well, except for that one. Low right hip side, scrunched up right beneath her legs on the skirt edge. She quickly rearranged that, before a sudden knock on the door interrupted her. A pause in the knock beforehand, implying hesitancy, before a firm hand laid its bare knuckles against it. The girl didn’t even turn to give the door any mind before answering. “You may enter, Libra.”
And just like that, he appeared, his light shining from behind her with an enviable glow, but the girl merely turned to him calmly, an expectant smile on her face.
“The room’s nearly finished, ma’am.” His voice came out firm and gentle, a low, but still booming sound that demanded the girl’s attention. “We have prepared the barrier in the backside. It is unlikely our guests shall be getting through, and even if they do, Taurus has been assigned to keep guard, although given the amount of salt water, it may not be necessary.” Even in a room with no walls, he could still leave an echo. She smiled.
”I see. Thank you for sharing your thoughts, Libra, but I don’t think we can be too careful there.” She says, giving him an understanding look. The being furrowed his brow slightly. “Do you not trust your own spell?” Gently, the girl shook her head. “It’s simply precautionary.” She said lightly, giving a more serious glance in his direction. “They were listed as being quite strong in their worlds, and after all I’ve witnessed of them, I would think it wise to account for the unexpected should anything occur.”
From his side, he raised a brow. “You say that as if you expect them to riot.”
Blinking, the girl shakes her head. “‘Riot’ is too strong of a word. ‘Rebel’, on the other hand…” She pauses for a moment, before looking back to the doorway from which her friend had entered. A small hint of worry glinted in her eye. “For whatever the situation, I simply cannot allow them that freedom.”
“I see…” Libra has nodded, but a certain flash flickered across his eyes. She could see it from where she stood, and in his stance, she could only watch as his shoulders tensed up. One had begun to droop, and the other uplift itself ever so slightly. Her eyes burrowed slightly. However, it wasn’t a surprise to her. Sensing her stare, Libra looked down on her, before emitting a sigh.
”I wish I could say I understand any of this at all, but…” He paused. The girl nodded slightly. “But…?” She asked, patiently but expectantly. She could already tell where this was going.
Sucking in a slight breath, Libra opened his eyes and straighten his posture., looking straight at the girl. “Forgive me for saying this, but, doesn’t this all strike you as a bit-“ “Cruel?” He didn’t even get a chance when the girl finished his sentence for him. His eyes widened in slight surprise. Normally, his lady wasn’t one to make interruptions. They were too… informal. Slowly, he nodded, looking at her curiously before opening his mouth again.
“You know it’s not likely they will take it well. Them or… or any of the others. And even then, the whole point of this ‘theater’ in itself is pointless.” He reasoned. “Why would you bring these people here? To view things that didn’t happen to them? Watching other people, with your face and your life- well, most of it, anyways… it’s not likely to produce any wholly positive aspect. The others… don’t you think they might find it unfair, the cards dealt onto them? That their lives didn’t go as they should’ve thanks to one wrong move?” His voice was picking up the pace, an almost worried sense in his tone that concerned the girl. “And their counterparts- I can only imagine the horror they must feel… and that horror can only go so far…”
It was then that Libra’s eyes stared hard into the girl’s figure. They lacked any sense of challenge, malice, or even any true sense of anger, but in them, pure curioisty. “What good would this do for them? For any of them?”
The girl stood still for a moment, her expression unreadable. Libra’s words swirled in the air, and though she could sense the genuine worry in his voice, she remained silent. The stars outside continued their slow dance across the sky, indifferent to the tension within the room. Her fingers traced the edge of the teacup again, but her gaze never shifted from the door.
Finally, she broke the silence, her voice calm, almost distant.
“Libra,” she said, “do you believe in the power of possibility?”
The question seemed to hang in the air, weightless. Libra blinked, slightly thrown off guard. “I… I suppose I do. But possibilities don’t change what’s real. They only show us what could have been.” His voice was steady, but there was a trace of confusion. “But this—what you’re doing—this is more than just showing them what could’ve been, isn’t it?”
The girl’s smile returned, faint and almost imperceptible. She took a slow sip of her tea, savoring the moment before responding.
“Is it?” she murmured, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “I suppose we’ll see, won’t we?”
She set the cup down carefully, as if the motion itself held some unspoken significance. Her eyes never left Libra’s face, but there was something unreadable in them. A flicker of something—what, exactly, she couldn’t quite name—passed through her gaze, vanishing almost as quickly as it had appeared.
Libra, though frustrated by the girl’s vagueness, pressed on. “But what good will this do them? You speak of choices, of paths—paths they can’t walk anymore. But you’re still trapping them in a moment that can never be. They can never change it.”
The girl’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “Perhaps,” she said slowly, “it’s not about changing the past.” Her tone was light, airy, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. “Perhaps it’s about giving them another chance… a chance to see something that might make sense of it all. Or perhaps it’s simply about showing them that there was always more to their story. That there’s always more than what we know.”
Libra stared at her, his expression intense with both frustration and curiosity. “But don’t you see? It’s cruel to force them to confront something they can never have. You know what this will do to them. You know how they’ll react.”
She tilted her head slightly, studying him, a small, enigmatic smile tugging at her lips. “Do I?” she asked, the question rolling off her tongue like a delicate whisper, but carrying an undercurrent of something deeper. Something she didn’t quite reveal. “Or perhaps you’re just assuming the worst.”
Libra clenched his jaw, but the girl’s calmness seemed to wash over him, leaving him unsettled but unable to challenge her directly. Her voice softened, though, and for a moment there was a flicker of something—something almost vulnerable in her tone.
“We don’t always understand the choices others make. Or the reasons behind them,” she said, her gaze now drifting toward the stars outside, her expression distant. “Sometimes, the only way to see the full picture is to… step back, and observe. But that doesn’t mean we control what they see. Or how they respond.”
Libra opened his mouth to speak again, but the girl raised a hand, silencing him.
“It’s not about them,” she continued, her voice turning almost cryptic. “Not in the way you think. I’m not doing this for them. Or for their benefit.” She paused, as if considering her next words carefully. “I’m simply… giving them a moment. A moment to be seen—even if they won’t understand it right away.”
The room fell quiet again, the air heavy with the weight of her vagueness. Libra stared at her, searching for some clarity, but the girl offered none. She only gave him that same calm smile, one that left him with more questions than answers.
“I understand your concern,” she said at last, but there was no conviction in her words, only a quiet resignation. “But don’t you think… sometimes we have to let things unfold on their own?”
Libra frowned, still unsure. “And what if they can’t unfold, my lady? What if they break under the weight of it all?”
The girl’s smile didn’t fade, but there was a flicker of something almost sorrowful behind her eyes. A quiet understanding of the weight of what she was asking. “Then we let them break ,” she said softly, her voice carrying a kind of tenderness that suggested she felt the full gravity of her words.
Libra flinched, the pain in her tone not lost on him. But before he could respond, she turned her gaze back to the sky, her thoughts drifting somewhere beyond his reach. “After all,” she continued, almost as if speaking more to herself than to him, “what is healing without a little hurt ?”
Libra stood frozen, his heart heavy as he processed her words. She knew. She knew how hard this would be, how much it would cost them, and yet—there was no hesitation in her voice. No second thoughts. Only a quiet certainty that this was the right thing to do.
“You’re asking them to face something they might never recover from,” Libra said, his voice low, filled with concern. “Don’t you see how much it will tear them apart?”
The girl’s lips pressed together, a brief flicker of regret passing through her expression, but she remained resolute. “I know,” she said quietly. “I know it won’t be easy. But sometimes… sometimes the hardest things are the ones that help us grow the most. Even if they can’t see it now.”
She let out a soft sigh, her eyes glinting with a mixture of sadness and resolve. “I would never do this if there were another way. But I’ve seen them, Libra. I’ve seen what they’ve lost, what they could’ve been. And this—this is the only way they might understand what truly matters. Even if it breaks them.”
Libra looked at her, his brow furrowing. She was calm, but there was an ache in her voice, an understanding of the cruelty in her plan. It wasn’t lost on her that she was forcing them to face the darkest parts of themselves. But still, she believed it was necessary .
For a long moment, he said nothing, his thoughts in turmoil. He could see the weight in her eyes, the sympathy that matched his own concern. And yet, it was clear she had already made her choice.
Her voice, soft and almost hesitant now, reached him. “I know it’s cruel. But sometimes cruelty is necessary to wake someone up. To make them realize what they’re really capable of. We have to do this, Libra, even if it hurts them. Especially because it hurts them.”
She turned back to face him then, her expression steady, but there was a touch of vulnerability in her gaze. “Sometimes, the sky must be torn open before the winds can carry us to clearer skies.”
Libra met her eyes, feeling a mixture of sympathy and unease. She wasn’t indifferent to the pain she would cause, but she believed, with all her heart, that it was the right thing. And though he didn’t fully understand it, he could see the good in her intentions, even if they were wrapped in something dark.
For a moment, the room was silent, and Libra could only watch her—this person he had known for so long, who now seemed both more distant and yet more human than ever before.
And, somehow, that made it even harder to argue.
Libra stood still, his mind spinning with the weight of her words. There was a depth to her resolve now that left no room for doubt, no space for further argument. She knew what she was doing. She knew how it would hurt. But she believed, in some quiet corner of her soul, that it was necessary. That in the end, it would bring them all closer to something greater.
Libra opened his mouth to speak again, but she raised a hand, silencing him. Her gaze moved beyond him, past the door, to the space where the veil between worlds was thinnest.
And then, with a small, almost playful smile, she spoke the words that closed the chapter on everything that had come before. “Now, now darling. Chin up.” She said calmly, like a mother to a child. “ I believe the curtains are set to rise.” She glanced down at her pocket watch, a mirade of the galaxy above reflecting in the glass. Finally, the girl looked back up. For a moment, Libra’s back nearly sagged in comfort, at ease at such a familiar sight. A knowing smile etched in place, cheeks raised and rosied with excitement, and a twinkle in her eyes that only the stars could rival.
“Let the show begin.”