Prelude of War

The sluggish ocean of Nemesis crawled towards the shoreline, creeping forth so slowly as if it were stalking the sand. What little of the moon dare show itself in the sky could only offer a piddling amount of light, which dispersed into tiny slivers as soon as the beams met the unforgiving surface of the water.

In that moment, he wished for a sea breeze, one peppered with a whimsical blend of hopes and the sharp scent of salt, but all he was presented with was a night air more still than the stone sculptures in the makeshift gardens. The silence carried a sense of ominousness, as if some omnipresent entity were observing his every move, already composing the lyrics of his impending judgment, for he was set to commit the most despicable crime ever to exist in the mind of man. And he couldn't help but let a stupid grin spread onto his lips.

"What else could I do besides face her?" He let out a curt, pained laugh, running a clammy hand through his mop of white locks. Apathetic to his plight, nature remained cold, still, collected. "What else could I do..."

And suddenly, he was not alone, which came to no surprise. For a man of his position, solitude was a commodity, a rarity, and a period that belonged only to the deepest periods of the night in which no one dare come to his side out of fear and reverence for the demons that haunted his existence. Yet, even as they spun themselves into semi-corporeal forms, settling their wicked weight on his already aching shoulders, the monsters did not torment his guest, though she would've ran at the sign of any danger.

Esmeraude was delicate, and he need not look at her once more to know such a thing. Armed with a bejeweled dagger, a steady glare, and a bloodstained uniform, she was still fragile to him. She could build impenetrable walls around anything that she so desired, but neglected to do so around her glass-like heart. Sometimes, he wondered if that was solely out of inability.

"You could leave."

Demando threw an emotionless glance over his bare shoulder at her, half desiring her to reassess her incredulous assertion, and half wishing that in some way she was right, and that in some way he could leave if he wanted to. Allowing himself to entertain the illusion of free will for a moment, he smoothed his shaky tone beneath a semblance of suavity, and responded in a way that was so casual and acerbic that it made her flinch.

"We both know that isn't possible."

Undeterred by his reply, Esmeraude padded towards him in her tattered house-slippers, flimsy soles slapping against the ground. They were anachronistic, ancient, matted fleece defiling the immaculate, ornate stone surface of the terrace that spiraled out into fantastical patterns beneath their feet. In a way, the clash mirrored her heart so well, and Demando couldn't help but smile at the empty night.

Drawing her terrycloth robe around her buxom form, she tied the loose ribbons of fabric around her waist, returning the smile that, while not for her, she pretended to be the recipient of anyways.

For no apparent reason, he laughed again with just as much pain laced within the chuckle as the first time, cradling his head in his hands while he shook it from side to side. Cautiously, Esmeraude reached for his arm, hesitating when she felt him stiffen, but curled her own arms around his when she found that to be the extent of his discomfort. In that moment, Esmeraude was a cat offering what little solace it could give, however useless it was.

"Is it worth it to leave this all behind?" Her words were as light as butterflies, and Demando had hardly heard her query until it had glided away on papery wings into the engulfing darkness.

Delicate as her words were her actions, and she ever so gently shifted the appendage she had laid claim on, holding onto him with a repressed strength that allowed him freedom if he so wished, but was firm enough to hold him near her so that just for a while he belonged to her and no one else. And so she held onto his arm, as if she could somehow melt into his flesh, seep into his blood, and become as ingrained within his being as he had become in hers.

Minutes trickled by slower than the rolling sea, which stretched for miles on either side of them, and somehow managed to stay calm against the calamity and chaos of Nemesis. The entire time, hope bubbled within Esmeraude as she gazed upon her beloved with limpid brown eyes. She found herself wishing that a sudden flurry of ice would freeze the pair in their places, that perhaps the moment in which it was just the two of them would last an eternity.

When he removed his arm from her grasp, and propped it onto the terrace railing, she was not surprised but heavily dismayed, suddenly struggling to find something else to occupy her hands with, only to end up placing them in the two remaining pockets of her disintegrating bathrobe. A blush bloomed on her flawless cheeks, blood betraying her embarrassment.

Still, Demando said nothing to her, and locked his gaze on the black sea, maintaining a serene countenance to hide the maelstrom of emotions brewing beneath the surface of his skin. He looked upon the world before him with indifference, as if he already knew every secret that the land breathed, though he was just as clueless as anyone.

"We've already decided."

Those three words slammed into her unexpectedly, for she never anticipated a reply to her question. Those three words were indubitably final, heavy as the clouds that collected overhead, threatening to shower the pair with an acidic rain. Esmeraude cringed as if she had been struck with a searing droplet of corrosive liquid.

Just as no one dared to disturb the White Prince during the darkling hours, she did not dare push the subject any further. Instead, she quietly resigned herself to the wishes of her Prince, and bowed her head in respect for his word.

"I understand...I...," she stammered. "I wish there was something that I could do. If only...if only I was stronger..."

Her words faltered, tone wavering, silence replacing what insignificant things she would've said had she been a more eloquent speaker. An old habit she long thought gone suddenly manifested itself in the muscles of her hands, slim fingers fiddling with the limp ties of her robe. Esmeraude gazed longingly at the Prince, brown eyes darkened with fear, regret, and a jealous beast called desire. It was that beast that was the partial source of her fright; it was that beast that dwelled in the heart of a woman in a one-sided love.

If only you were good enough.

She swallowed the growing lump in her throat that threatened her with asphyxiation, that threatened to drain the breath from her if she caved to the derisions of the dark clouds that had settled over her. Pursing her lips, naked without the curtain of satiny red lipstick to fall over them, she drew in a long, slow breath, letting her lungs capture and hold it prisoner for a fleeting moment, and then released it with a reluctance of one emancipating a possession.

The breath was hers, the moment was hers, the Prince was hers, but all would deny her ownership when asked, for she was a woman of delusions and false dominance, who was every bit as delicate as she was increasingly wicked. Esmeraude only owned one thing: herself.

Soon, she would have not even that.

In silence, she observed the profile of the Prince that was wholly perfect. Nature and the darkling sky worked in unison, sculpting and shaping his features until they matched those of a vengeful angel; all cruel strength, vehemence, and celestial beauty. And when he looked at her, finally, every bit of his stony elegance softened into something that was tender and compassionate.

That face of his, that look he gave her, that guileless air surrounding him dragged the truth right out of her heart.

"I think this is a bad idea, but I'll do it anyways, for you."

He was not mortal. She'd long decided that, but in that moment, the notion solidified, for her words seemingly had no effect on him. Demando reacted as one would've if told that it was raining while they were standing in the downpour. The only bit of response he offered was a lengthy nod of acknowledgement.

"Of course it's a bad idea." A dry smile prodded at the corners of his lips. "It's despicable, it's soulless. We'll be his by the end of the night, but at least we'll win."

Stunned, she gaped at him, at his agreement. Words already on her tongue, she prepared to protest, but by the time she had opened her mouth once more, the conversation had ended.

Demando turned away from her, and walked back inside the palace.

"They've always depended on me to guide them, lead them, and I'm making them do this."

He threw the open the doors of his bedchambers carelessly, retreating into the one place where he would be left to his own thoughts, his own devices. It was the one place where he could so selfishly think of how to care for his companions, his family. Yes, over the years they had grown into the roles of his kin. They were his, they were his, they were his. And for they were his, he was to always have their best interests at heart, even if that was not always the case.

On that night, that undeniably important night on which the Black Moon Clan would begin their ascent towards an unreachable throne, he could not spare a single moment that was not laced with a thought of her. The Empress of Crystal Tokyo, the Queen of Vitality, the Tyrant of His Heart...she belonged to him as well.

Without so much as a cue, the shadows that resided in the deepest crevices and fissures of the room emerged from their dens, slithering out in waves of serpentine specters. They inched towards the Prince dutifully, under the spell of fate that deemed him their master. Upon skimming the hem of the bed sheets that pooled on the ground, they crawled up the length, coalescing on the surface of the bed as an entity crafted of pure, unadulterated darkness.

"I don't know what to do." Demando admitted to the empty room, and suddenly he felt so small.

Sitting on that bed, shadows mingling behind his back, he was a child once more: a peasant boy, and hardly the Prince he would become. His mind regressed into that of a child's as he laid his head in his hands, his only thoughts plagued with worry, his heart smitten with regret. Boiled down to his core, he could only sigh, and sigh, and sigh again, as if somehow his breaths would carry the solutions to his problems.

In the midst of his despair, he had forgotten the darkness that sat behind him ever so slowly transmogrifying into a woman so beloved by him that had it been her and not a Shade, he would've fainted from the glee. Like snakes, the shadows slid against one another, whispering to fill the silence of the empty room as they assiduously worked to form a new entity. They pressed against one another, darkness flush with darkness, elongating into a smoky appendage that one would call a leg. It was mimicked by another group that formed a second, identical leg. Curving into a set of hips, and then finally shaping a waist, then breasts, and completing the torso from which a pair of arms and a neck and a head sprouted, the shadows molded themselves into the form of Neo-Queen Serenity. Layer upon layer of wispy darkness settled into place, each becoming lighter and lighter until finally the black had faded into a flawless alabaster, which was eventually covered in a thin gown. Smoky, illustrious gold poured down the length of her back, eventually stopping just at the bones of her ankles.

"Demando?" She rested her ghostly hand on one of his strained shoulders.

Like a cat awakening from a long afternoon nap, he slowly lifted his head, shoulders rolling back until he was sitting up properly. His violet orbs widened when he met her eyes, deep blue and overflowing with concern for him. Not even a moment had passed before he stole her into a tight embrace, burying his face into her neck and squeezing his eyes shut to block the world out. Their chests pressed together, she could feel his racing heartbeat, while he struggled to ignore the fact that she did not have one.

"What should I do?"

For the Shade of Neo-Queen Serenity knew nothing more than what the White Prince desired, she remained silent, resorting to just stroking his white locks over and over as he held her in his constricting grasp and breathed raggedly against the skin of her neck. There was nothing she could offer, no plan that he had not already known of, but it didn't matter. However false, for a moment, she was only his.

"I just want to stop suffering. I just want you."

He didn't care that he sounded like a spoiled child when he said either of those things. He didn't care that he essentially admitted his desires to an empty room. He didn't care that she was just a Shade, just a creation of his own dark heart. He didn't care that she'd never love him. He just wanted to stay with her in some way.

Slowly, slowly did his breath turn from sharp pants to softer, gradual inhales and exhales. His hold on her loosened until his arms rested limply on her back. She continued smoothing her hands over his hair, smiling down at him with a warm sadness as if she could truly feel his emotions.

"You'll make the right decisions." She eventually said. "You always do."

What a lie that was.

"They're here." Rubeus mouthed to Saphir as he peered out through the crack between the double doors.

He observed the monarchs as they ghosted by, utterly alone if one ignored the servant that quietly led them through the winding labyrinth of corridors. Bitterly, Rubeus thought of how arrogant they were to be waltzing around a foreign land's palace without so much as a guard in sight.

On the single couch in the library, Saphir lounged with a book in hand, every so often flipping a page to maintain the illusion that he was reading, when in fact his mind had long since wandered to other matters. By the layer of sweat that had accumulated on his clammy hands, adhering the fabric of his gloves to his skin, it didn't take an intellect to rival his own to tell him that he was, for the first time in quite a while, nervous. But who wouldn't be?

The night was the one that would end all others; apocalyptic in a way. Hours from then, the world would undergo a metamorphosis, and with it would change himself and the rest of the Black Moon Clan. The results were unknown, the future was unknown. All that was sure was their victory and their enslavement.

How Saphir wished that he could offer something more to his brother than his mere brain! Something, something, something that could've assisted him when he most needed it; something to have turned him away from the arms of the Devil. He could have been stronger, he should have been stronger, but it was too late.

If only you were good enough.

Glancing at Rubeus, who paced in front of the door, polished boots slamming against the equally shiny floors, Saphir needn't even ask if he was experiencing a sudden bout of anxiety. There was too much at stake for them to not worry.

"You'll wear a hole in the floor if you don't stop soon." Saphir forced a chuckle that sounded every bit as fake as it was.

Even with that said, Rubeus didn't stop. Shaking his head, red spikes of hair dancing as if they were flames, he continued his repetitive walk.

Meanwhile, Saphir turned back to his novel, staring at the words with empty interest as they went swimming across the page. When he tried to read a sentence, he found himself unable to comprehend its meaning, and was perplexed at his sudden puzzled state, unable to believe that his nerves had begun to rule him. He threw the book down with a huff of frustration.

"I've never seen you do that before." Rubeus mused, finally coming to a stop.

"You don't spend enough time in here, then." Saphir snapped.

Rolling his eyes, and plastering a smirk onto his face, Rubeus pinned his trenchant gaze on him. It was a move that was so flippantly acute that Saphir shifted uncomfortably. "You're that nervous, huh."

"We're selling our souls to that...that thing." He spat as if the words were poisonous.

Rubeus didn't need to be told. He knew very well that the events of the night would conclude with that fatal transaction; they all knew. Throwing his arms above his head, he stretched, flexing his bulging muscles. It was his pre-battle ritual, a move that reminded him of his physical prowess and all the hard work it had taken to get there. It was a move that normally reminded him of how indomitable of a force he was, but at that moment, he could only think of how useless he was in the war against fate. He had not Saphir's enviable intellect, nor Demando's prodigious skill with magic, nor Esmeraude's invigorating optimism. That he had was simply physical, temporary, and something that he had to work tirelessly for, which should have instilled a sense of pride within him, but instead left him feeling the black sheep in the world of his advantageously gifted family.

He was utterly and intrinsically worth nothing.

If only you were good enough.

"Just for now." Rubeus said quite a bit more loudly than needed. "It's just until we win. Then we'll find some way to get rid of him."

Neither one of the men knew if they would last that long.

By the time Demando entered the meeting room, all attending were present. To his right, Esmeraude, who sat with her hands folded in her lap, all dolled up in an emerald evening gown, with her hair resting against her back in loose waves. Next to her was Saphir, and next to him Rubeus, both men in their typical garments and discussing something of no particular importance.

"Good evening." He greeted warmly, gently closing the doors behind him.

Sweeping his violet eyes over the room, he finally settled them upon his intended target: Neo-Queen Serenity. She was seated directly across from the chair that was his own, politely nodding at Esmeraude, who made light conversation with her. Abandoning her infamous white gown for the night, she instead had chosen one so ethereal and angelic that she looked out of place against the muted grays of the hall. Fine, silken threads of ivory had been spun into a rich cocoon that enveloped her in a delicate embrace. Woven into the flowing skirt were thousands of minute crystals that shimmered with every subtle movement, as if all of the stars in the heavens had incorporated themselves into that single dress.

Demando felt the sudden impulse to scoop her up from her chair, carry her to his throne, and place her upon it in hopes that he could make her look every bit the Queen that she was. His Queen.

But instead, all he did was smile at her.

"It's nice to see you again, Serenity." He said, and then noticed King Endymion at her side, which stirred feelings of jealousy within him. "And you as well, Endymion."

At the sound of their names, the King and Queen of Crystal Tokyo looked at Demando, each returning his sentiment without a hint of malice or deceit. Their pleasance was chilling, but strangely comforting; he expected to be met with hatred, not with kindness, and such kindness gave him hope, though he knew that the events to come were inevitable.

As he took his seat, Demando couldn't help but let his eyes wander, drinking in every last inch of her until he was certain that each and every curve and dip had been ingrained within his mind. It was blissful for him to be in her presence, and he had almost forgotten the purpose of their meeting until he saw her dainty hand resting in the palm of her husband's. Jealousy bubbled up within him, as if it were some sort of vile, effervescent substance. He tore his eyes away, suddenly finding his mood darkened.

If only you were good enough.

"Let's get to the matters at hand, shall we?" He forced a pained smile, hoping that it looked somewhat genuine.

From King Endymion's pocket was a folded paper produced, and Demando knew all too well what the contents of the letter were. A treaty, the treaty; all he had ever lusted for and more.

"We've discussed much over the past few months," King Endymion said, and slid the document across the smooth-finished wood. "We are pleased to welcome you back to Earth as citizens of Crystal Tokyo, if you so accept our invitation."

Carefully drawing it into his trembling hands, he unfolded it slowly, as if peeling back layers of wrapping paper from a priceless gift. In no time, he found himself staring at a wall of text interrupted only by blank lines of which required his signature...if he considered their proposition.

Demando had never felt so ill in his life. Nausea swirled around his abdomen in a flurry of guilt and anxiety, his body twitched with unreleased tension, and the room felt so small and unbearably warm. Heart pounding, he locked eyes with Neo-Queen Serenity, who looked at him expectantly, excitement written all over her angelic features. Her rosy lips curled into the smallest of smiles, a smile that was for him and him alone.

It was almost enough.

You are not good enough.

The words came in tandem with another glance towards her hand, still resting in her husband's.

Without so much as a second thought, he tore the document in half.

He rushed out of the room, ignoring the protests of the King and Queen, ignoring the chaos that had erupted in the meeting hall. Slamming the doors shut behind him, he absentmindedly turned right with no particular destination in mind other than a place as far away as possible from the hall. All he wanted in that moment was to put as much space between himself and everyone else, for in that watershed moment, that sudden bout of anger, he had effectively began a war that would end all others. Alone, he could justify his actions. Alone, he could make himself see the good. If anyone, anyone came after him he would–

"Demando?"

He halted at the sound of her voice, peering over his shoulder as if he had just been caught partaking in a sacrilegious act. Against the darkness that had settled in his wake, she stood out as a blinding beacon of hope, an angel to save him from the lust for vengeance that was slowly consuming him, and so badly did he want to run to her arms and beg for forgiveness like a child.

But he was no child, not then, and not ever again. He was a Prince, a cruel Prince, who was to become the Devil's puppet, and there was no salvation for him. Even if there were, he wouldn't have deserved it.

"Wait!" She cried when he took a hesitant step forward.

A man possessed...

At her command, he turned towards her, ready to hear out whatever she had to say, however painful it was. With the grace of a swan on water, she glided towards him, her dress flowing behind her and midnight stars sparkling. Pure, unmarred beauty before him, she was so difficult to look at, so difficult to think of when he knew that she would never rest his arms. But who could deny the request of a goddess?

"Come back to me, please."

With the sort of carefulness one exercises when handling a wounded animal, she took his hands within her own. Cerulean eyes pleading with him to reconsider, though she knew her efforts were futile, she again attempted to appeal to his judgment.

The entire time, he could only remain silent, unable to say a word with his mouth and throat suddenly more dry than that of a man deprived of water.

For she was not a girl, not a quixotic child, she knew that his mind had been made, and resigned herself to simply accepting his decision. Lowering her gaze, an oh so painful act for him, she looked at the floor.

"I could've loved you."

She said the words as a mother speaking to a disturbed child, one so lost to darkness that they would never find their way back. It meant nothing, but the seed had been planted, and from then on he would always believe that she could and would have loved him if fate had been partial to him.

Standing on her toes, she gently brushed her lips against the skin of his cheek, a final act of kindness. It was a gesture so innocuous that he shouldn't have read into it, but paired with her words, he couldn't help but allow himself to entertain the notion of possessing her love.

If only you were good enough.

His demons were wrong.

He seized hold of the back of her neck, his other hand darting to the small of her back, and struck with the might of a cobra, capturing her lips. It was his first plunge into darkness, and such a sweet moment it was with her lips against his and his mind slowly being devoured by darkness. And when he finally released her breathless, quivering body, he turned away from her without so much as a glance and strode into the realm of shadows.

He drank in excess that night, consuming glass after glass of wine until the world was drowning in black spots and stars. Those stars only reminded him further of her, and so he had another glass and another, and soon he had forgotten what he had been so worried about in the first place. Lifting his glass in a toast, he clinked it against those of his Clan, declaring that they were unstoppable, and that the throne of Earth would be theirs within the hour.

When Demando had finally had his fill of wine, he turned towards the cadaverous entity named Wiseman and reached towards the earrings that had been set out for him. The slivers of the Jakokuzuishou pulsed with untapped energy upon him lifting them from the pillow they rested on. Following in suit, Esmeraude retrieved hers with shaky hands, while Rubeus scooped his up with an air of boredom. The White Prince nodded once at Rubeus, who responded with a slight smile, and then at Esmeraude, who bowed hurriedly at the waist, blushing all the while. Finally, he looked over his shoulder at Saphir, reading his brother's face with the ease resulting from years of practice. Just for him, he grinned as if to tell him not to worry, though they both knew he was right to exercise caution.

Not allowing a single moment for second thoughts, Demando took one final breath as himself and fastened the earrings to his lobes.

It was unlike anything that he had ever felt before. Anger bloomed within him, a rose of crimson blood and hatred, fury blossoming in his heart. Darkness festered within his chest as an insuperable plague. In the period of a few seconds, he lost everything. His worries, his regrets, his mind...all gone. Only his most savage wants remained: his lusts for power and a beautiful Queen. He was stripped down to the core, the layer of his boyhood being peeled away to reveal the wicked, innate soul of man. As the Jakokuzuishou breathed venomous power into him, he existed as a collection of desires and obsessions, malice and raw power, love and hatred. The man he was before was swallowed up, locked away in some impenetrable prison as he adopted the face, the mind, the heart of his demon.

On that night, he became one with evil.

"I could've loved you."

He watched with a detached amusement as the first wave of his armada advanced onto the city of Crystal Tokyo. The blue sky he had always wished for had perished, and in its place emerged a gray void of apathy, marred with a relentless streak of red. Towering above all other buildings was the Crystal Palace, a celestial structure among a sea of buildings that tried ever so hard to mimic its grandeur, its opulence.

Staring at the palace, he felt as though his gaze could pierce right through the opaque crystal, as though he could see the Queen and her empyreal perfection if he tried hard enough. If he were to lose every memory that ever inhabited the dark recesses of his mind, he would never let the one of her lips against his own escape him. It belonged to him just as the Earth would.

"I could've loved you."

"I will make you love me."

He raised his glass in a toast and took a sip.

End

I've always wanted to write something in which I could explore the Black Moon Clan a little more in depth and enough inspiration finally brought me to this point! I do hope everyone enjoyed it! Would you kindly review?