The morning of Aranea's birthday, the 21st of September.
Her father's first action was to pull her into a bear hug. It was the same as her mother, all he did was apologise even though none of it was his fault.
He didn't call the hit, some other piece of shit did.
It didn't matter to him though; to him all he heard on that day 2 and a half weeks ago was his daughter was almost killed.
And it happened right after he left.
He should have never left.
These weeks he sent everyone he trusted out to gather information, be it legally or illegally. He used his spies, his informants, and even wild rumours from bars and shady corners.
But not a single hint of the perpetrator was revealed.
Duke Lethraxus still had suspicions as to who it was.
Mainly, the two other Ducal Families of the Empire and the Second and Third Princes.
Those sons of bitches have been after him since his daughter's birth under the guise of 'Wanting to remove a Witch from the Empire, to rid of the 'curse' she brought to its lands.'
What bullshit!
Stroking his daughter's smooth, black and white hair, his brows furrowed as he looked at Jill, his wife.
Her face was as pungent as his; anger was simmering beneath their eyes.
Aranea's birthday party was taking place in the Imperial Capital.
The other Ducal Families were going to make themselves present with their allies, the Second and Third Princes had their allies going as well to back them up; to show off their political power.
His allies were tasked with expeditions by the Crown Prince; they were away.
With enemies on all sides, they alone had to weather the storm.
It was a mess.
And his daughter was going to be at the centre of the storm.
'Can she handle it?' Those were the words portrayed from his eyes to his wife.
'Yes.' She saw how strong her daughter was after the assassination attempt, she was more than capable enough to handle the words of other children.
As her parents, they will bear the brunt of the storm; the influence of the nobility wouldn't pass by them to their daughter.
No matter what.
---
Duke Lethraxus, his wife Jill Von Repitath and their daughter Aranea Von Lethraxus.
The three stood side by side at the centre of the Transportation Array; each of their outfits was a raven black.
Duke Lethraxus had a cape hung over his shoulder with wartime medallions linking together across his chest.
Jill Von Repitah was in a modest, black dress with her hair tied up in a pin.
Aranea Von Lethraxus had a frilly, luxurious black dress inlaid with white lines; her hair ran freely down her back with a raven's feather attached to it.
A Combat Squadron belonging to her father's private army accompanied them in the Transportation Array; their armour, weaponry and even their skin had been taken care of.
Today's demonstration had to be perfect.
-----
Imperial Capital, Lethraxus Estate.
Unlike the one in Moore, this estate was many times more goady. The gem-embedded golden chandeliers, silverware that could purchase you a small fiefdom, paintings from renowned artists...
The carpet under their feet could feed a hundred thousand starving children.
That was the level of extravagance in this place.
Dozens of carriages were rolling into the entrance; each carried nobility of the highest stature of the Empire.
But not a single one was their friend.
Not one.
The Combat Squadron Duke Lethraxus brought were on guard duty, every corner of this building was safe.
He wouldn't allow any accidents to occur.
Standing at the front entrance, Duke Lethraxus glanced at their first arrivals.
'...damn parasites.'
It was Count Lardin and Count Moldive. The two pawns of the Second and Third Princes.
Their children followed them alongside their wives.
Seeing their gloating smiles as they exited their carriages, Duke Lethraxus held back the rage in his heart.
One of these bastards...
"Greetings, Duke Lethraxus."
"Greetings, Duke Lethraxus."
Stood side by side, the two Counts greeted him at the same time.
"Greetings, thank you for making it on such short notice."
Performing the formal etiquette of the Empire, the tension clashing between them was palpable.
"It's our pleasure, I heard what happened to your daughter, my condolences."
"My condolences, it was a tragic incident. Do tell if there's anything we can do to assist you."
Count Moldive, the Third Prince's pawn followed after what Count Lardin, the Second Prince's pawn, said.
Sensing their mockery, Duke Lethraxus held a straight face to not feed into their ego. "No need Counts, I appreciate your concern."
Finishing off their casual conversation, Duke Lethraxus led them into the main ballroom where the butlers, maids and musicians were.
It would have been an amazing sight, but considering that everyone who was about to enter this room was their enemy, then it no longer felt like it.
One by one, after the two probing Counts, A Marquise arrived, a dozen more Counts and a hundred Viscounties.
The ballroom was flooded with lively conversation, and the sound of clinking wine glass reverberated across the grounds.
All manners of high society flooded this room.
Everyone in here, if bound by a common goal, could topple a Kingdom if need be.
...
Thirty minutes passed after the last noble entered the ballroom.
The Dukes have yet to arrive.
But Duke Lethraxus could sense them from afar.
They were coming.
The ones who most likely orchestrated his daughter's assassination.
Their enemy.
The announcer at the front entrance caught a glimpse of their flags trotting down the street, then, with a bellowing voice:
"Duke Farlyn has arrived!"
"Duke Busette has arrived!"
Duke Farlyn, also known as the Coinless Duke.
Duke Busette, also known as the Gutless Hand.
The two fangs of the Empire, one bearing the financial power of a dozen Kingdoms, the other known for ripping the throats out of his own friends.
Tonight, no, not just tonight, for the past 5 years...
These fangs have been pointed at him.
At his daughter.
Stepping out into the entrance, the Captain of his Combat Squadron stood beside him with all his might and power oozing out.
A demonstration.
-----
"You're looking cuter than ever, honey."
Jill was tenderly combing Aranea's hair in the preparation room, occasionally her hands would break loose and squish her daughter's soft cheeks.
Mogu~ Mogu~
"I knowwwiie!" Her mother pulled her cheeks as she responded.
"That's naughty, saying that you know you're cute? Are you saying mommy isn't as cute as you?!"
Playfully moulding Aranea's face, Jill resisted the constant urge to apologise in the back of her mind.
Enjoying the playful, peaceful atmosphere, Jill and Aranea messed with each other for a few minutes.
Jill wished for these types of moments to last forever.
But Aranea's entrance was coming soon.
"Mommy, can I go toilet first?"
"Do you need to ask?"
"Oops."
Seeing her daughter off into the toilet, Jill waited outside and lamented to herself for a moment.
Because she knew.
She didn't know if Aranea herself realised it, but she knew.
Her daughter had grown faster than other children.
She was too mature for her age.
Jill just hoped Luliya could help her retain that sliver of remaining innocence in her.
She prayed her daughter could remain innocent.
But...
'...Sigh...'
...she knew it wasn't possible.
---
"...I've never done this before."
Standing on the stool, Aranea glanced at the reflection in the mirror.
Her outer image, however, didn't reflect her inner image in the slightest. Raising her hand, Aranea covered half of her body; she could see it.
She could see what truly existed there;
What existed behind the facade of flesh and blood;
The existence that Aranea truly was;
Curse.
Removing her hand from the mirror, Aranea pushed it into her dress and poked around until she found the pocket she had sewn into it.
Feeling the small, glass bottle within-
Fwip.
-she pulled it out.
Rattle-
Swishing the bottle around, Aranea listened to the sound of the contents of the bottle clashing against each other.
The items inside were small, grey, and in the form of a pill.
Drugs.
Popping the cap, she remembered the instructions the Faceless One had given her.
[No more than 2 every 6 hours]
'...sorry Mister, but I can't keep that promise.'
Tapping the bottle on her free hand, 3 pills popped out at once.
Then-
Gulp.
-she swallowed them down.
Ba-dump.
She felt nothing for a moment.
Ba-dump.
More nothingness.
Ba-dump.
Until suddenly.
Ba-DUMP!
Her heartbeat sounded exceptionally loud; the sound of her heartbeat was rapid, inconsistent, and terrifying.
But everything else began to dull.
The sensation in her hands, her flesh, her bones, her skin...
Everything looked like it was falling apart around her.
The paint on the walls was peeling off...
The door to the toilet waving and crumpling in on itself...
Pain release.
The waves of excruciating pain returned; they pulled on the corners of her brain, squeezing together as they attempted to turn it into mush.
But-
'It's better.'
-she could still move.
Hopping off the stool, Aranea allowed the pain to actively release itself as it arrived.
For the rest of the day;
Her pain release;
It would remain on.
'...I hate this game.'
-----
That day, the news distributed itself across the Empire;
Across the borders of the Continent;
To the vestiges of ancient Kingdoms;
Aranea Von Lethraxus.
The Devil; The Abomination.
It had destroyed the children of the Ducal Families in an outburst.
Rendering one incapable of using their left arm;
One incapable of seeing out of an eye;
It was an atrocious act befitting a Demon.
It was said her eyes drew them into a hypnotic loop filled with torture.
It was said her hair parted ways, revealing a face within her scalp.
It was said that-
She should be killed.
The girl in question never forgot her role.
She never forgot the truth.
As she watched the walls fall apart before her eyes.
As the excruciating pain massaged her limbs.
As her heart pounded in her ears.
Her dance of blood blossomed in the banquet halls.
That day;
That day, crimson showered;
That day, the wretched halls of glory bore her terror;
That day, the truth began bearing its fangs;
That day;
The history books will never forget it.
As soon...
Soon the history books would mark it as-
-----
The years passed.
Luliya came and went; their relationship never changed.
Luke grew up; his once kindling warm eyes were bleached with the truth.
Wrinkles carved themselves on Mother's face; her warm, tender, tone tinged with the truth.
Grey hairs singed the ends of her Father's head, his gait slowed with the truth.
Not once did she meet her eldest brother; he remained unaware of the truth.
As unaware as Luliya.
On her 12th birthday, Luliya received a hint of the truth.
So, Aranea gouged the roots out of Luliya's eyes; barring her from the core of the truth.
She would not meet her again, not for a few years.
Only she had to bear its weight.
-----
Midnight.
A new year.
Aranea; 12.
She kissed her mother's cheek, delicately stroking her face.
She hugged her father, clasping his cloak with her hand.
She locked hands with her brother, parting his hair with her hand.
Gazing up at Fallion and Malta; the twin moons, Aranea let out a small smile.
Then, looking down at the courtyard, she greeted the guards of the estate.
Tonight.
On this day.
She bade farewell.
Drip...
The liquid representing the truth tickled her feet.
The rosy scent of the truth filled the estate.
The pungent aroma of the truth encompassed her clothing.
That day, all those years ago;
Aranea's 5th birthday was aptly named:
[The Precursor]
----------
End of Prologue.