Clementine was woken up by the shrill sound of her cell door swinging open.

The noise echoed, bouncing off of the stone bricks, the coarse walls that had become the borders of her world for the last five years. Once, she had feared the noise, as it meant that servants would invade the dark cell with sharp blades to extract from her bony body the life essence that would keep their great Emperor alive. The disruption to the endless silence of her cell meant that pain would follow, without fail or change.

She closed her eyes, sightless in any case in the darkness of the cell, ready for the hand that would yank her upright. She was ready for a blade that would press to her wrist, neck, or some other part of her body - exhausted beyond anything. It has been five years - what's five more? She could keep her head down for as long as she needed to; because she knew that she served a purpose. Her blood would continue to keep the Emperor alive for as long as they fed it to him.

But no blade came. They pulled her harshly to her feet and dragged her out of the cell. Silently she was almost grateful for their grips around her thin limbs, she barely had the strength to stand on her own two feet. As they dragged her from the darkness of the dungeons to the light of the upper castle, she had to blink away the strain. She looked blankly to her side, but her eyes widened at what she saw. The crest on the armor of the men dragging her forward was not the curled serpent design of the Mireu Dragon - but the stance of a mighty griffin.

Panic flared through her body. Why were these men in the castle? She had never seen such a crest. As they brought her out of the lower reaches of the castle, she smelled the sharp scent of smoke - and then saw it, it curled around the pillars of the mighty castle like snakes, and flared up outside the grand windows. The mighty capital of Graria was under siege, flames ate at the battlements in view. The mighty capital was under siege, and they had lost the war.

She went limp in the grip of the soldiers, but they just harshly pulled her along despite her panic. If the enemy's soldiers were in this castle and had her within their grip, did it mean that Emperor Mireu was dead? She choked on the thought but tightly closed her eyes. No, she couldn't let herself be seized by fear now.

The soldiers dragged her outward, to a room she recognized as what was once the throne room. Where Emperor Mireu had once sat, there was nothing but a stain of blood across the golden back of the throne.

The great Emperor himself lay dead in front of it - more dead, at least. The signs of decay couldn't be hidden now, as his throne room burnt around him. She saw flesh and bone peeking from gray skin, and her lip trembled. Five years, gallons of blood, all for naught. She crawled towards him, perhaps in a last bid to save him, she was not sure, there was little else that had occupied her mind all this time.

A blade sank into the carpet in front of her, stopping her in her path. She slowly looked up into the face of the attacker, the Usurper, and saw the face of a man glaring back at her. His skin was filthy with grime and blood, and his brown eyes narrowed as he looked down at her. His dark hair hung over his forehead in bloody strips. He had just won the fight.

"So this was the Grarian devil's secret to victory all these years?" he breathed, his voice hoarse with exhaustion and hatred.

Clementine's lips tightened, her heart beating in her throat. She didn't know how to speak back to this man, much less because he was Ryker Marlane, the Usurper, the face of the Enemy that she had been taught to fear for half a decade. The monster that killed the Emperor in one of the first battles of the War - the reason Clementine had been taken from her home and brought here to be used to keep the great Emperor Mireu alive. It was hard to respond to the manifestation of her misery.

He tolerated her terrified silence for a few moments before his murderous and exhausted gaze landed on someone else outside her view. A voice she recognized as one of the Emperor's advisors shakily piped up. "S-She is the last Levici. Her blood kept the Emperor alive."

She flinched as the Usurper's gaze landed back on her. His gaze seemed to soften a little when he noticed the bandages covering her throat, her arms, and even her legs.

"Levici… the Duke. Right."

He stepped around her. Circling her like a vulture. "Had I known, I'd have taken this godforsaken monolith of tyranny much, much earlier… to think the war went on so long because of a single unfortunate woman…"

"Do you know my father?" Clementine finally managed to ask, her voice small and thin from disuse and neglect. "The Duke Levici - you- I know he was your enemy- but he is kind- beyond kind- please - please, kill- kill me if you must, but tell me where my father is-!"

The Usurper came back to her front to face her. He looked down at her, she was kneeling on the ground, shaking with fear. He looked to one of his men and nodded, the soldier running off somewhere.

Clementine looked back up at the Usurper, her gaze wide and fearful. "Tell me where he is.." she breathed out weakly.

He just closed his eyes. The soldier came back, a helmet clasped in his hands.

The Usurper took the helmet and tossed it towards Clementine.

It landed with a dull thud on the ruined royal carpet, and rolled a few steps until Clementine grasped it with shaking hands. It took effort to lift the metal, she scarcely had muscle left on her bones anymore, but when she looked down at it she realised with a choking sob that it was her father's helmet. It was answer enough.

There, on cursed white metal, sat the Levici crest, a golden sun. She had seen her father wear this armor as he rode away to the War. He had been called upon by the great Emperor himself, after all, he could do nothing else but obey his commands seeing as he had no son to send in his place.

Clementine's tears finally fell, cutting streaks through the dust on her face as she hugged the helmet to her chest.

The Usurper said nothing, but he picked up his sword once more. "Had I only known…" he muttered softly.

Another man spoke up as Marlane stood over her, "Perhaps now you will have her blood for yourself. The healing power of Levici blood is no joke if it could keep a dead man standing for five years."

"No, Aimery. I won't." The Usurper answered flatly. Clementine looked up at him through her tears, eyes widened. The Usurper's gaze remained hard. "I won't be like the noble Grarian filth, using another's body for their own gain."

He picked up his sword, though, and a slight brush of the cold steel against her throat was the only warning Clementine received. Her arms tightened over the helmet as she flinched - the first and last time she would ever try to defend herself. The Usurper pulled his blade up in one fatal motion, sending Clementine falling back from the force of the slash.

She fell on her back and bled onto the carpet, gasping for air that would never enter her lungs again.

"But that doesn't mean someone else won't."

Light faded from her gaze, as she clawed for air that didn't come, and within minutes, her world faded to black.

No - No!

I won't let this be the end of me!

Death, in all your horrid injustice, hear me!

Sun, Moon, or Stars! Turn your gazes to me! Please!

I won't accept this! I can't accept this!

This can't be all that's made of me!

I DENY THIS FATE!

And somehow, somewhere, someone heard the sound of her screaming soul; and granted her wish.