Opening her eyes, the owner of the ink-black orbs lifted her head. In the distance, light streamed through a broken void, drawing forth the light of eternal day at the bottom of her eyes.
She didn't know when the burning sun would set, nor did she know when the Lord of Night would draw her curtains.
Tiny songs of solitude echoed through the empty underground.
The princess and the prince, an eternal poem, their hands clasped tight, their hearts pressed close, vowing to vanquish all dragons and Chaos from this world.
She turned her head toward the source of the voice and found nothing.
"Mira," she said, with a hint of questioning and a touch of nervousness, "where are you?"
I am in your heart.
The owner of the singing voice replied.
It was then as if she discovered something, lowering her head to look at her own chest. At the center of her small chest, encased in a shell of pure white chitin, there was a sac resembling a blue gem with a tiny person inside.
