All rights to Hiro Mashima

~ Part One: Scorch ~

Verb: to destroy by or as if by fire; a superficial burn

Empty.

It was all so empty. A mansion high on a hill, white and gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. But that's as far as the warmth spread. The inside was cold and dark. No candles were lit, no lanterns or chandeliers or hanging lights giving off their customary glow.

Because it was devoid of life. Empty.

A young woman makes her weekly rounds through those empty halls, a wooden broom trailing after her, held limp in a small, slightly callused hand. Feather duster tightly clutched in another. Eyes watchful for cobwebs and accumulated dust on gilded picture frames, beautiful decorative vases from China, and mahogany tables standing on spindly legs, that crowded the long silent halls.

Useless crap. But it was important useless crap. Especially to the woman. After all, the place had to be perfect for when he came home.

And he would be coming back; she had no doubt. Then this empty house would fill with a long forgotten warmth again.

She just knows it.

And she would be the one to look after this monstrosity of a house. Would her step mother or step sisters do it?

She snorts daintily at this notion. No…they would not. They would just complain about their feet and how the house was too large and too cold and too creepy.

So she made a vow to herself years ago when he left and never came back, that she would take care of the place for him in his stead.

For both of them, really.

That was nine years ago, but she always keeps her promises no matter what, no matter the situation. Her mother always taught her to be honourable and to trust in the human heart, while her father taught her that patience was a virtue that was slowly dying out in this day and age.

So she continued. Down the halls, entering many unused rooms, peeking her head around corners and scrutinising every floor and counter top. It had to be perfect.

Humming an unknown tune – slightly off key – she spies a sneaky web in the corner of the oil portrait of some ancient man with drooping eyes and a large red nose. Standing on tip toes, she gently brushes the offending delicate strand away.

Just because she thinks the old geezer in the portrait looks like an elephant – all wrinkly and grey – doesn't mean that she would let it get dirty. Every picture, every item in this god forsaken place was precious to her. Because it was precious to him, to them.

So she would care for it as if it was her first born child.

Reaching the end of the hallway, she comes upon her favourite spot in the whole house at her favourite time of day.

The balcony at twilight.

Flinging the French doors wide open she breathes in the early evening air deep into her lungs, savouring the scents of freshly mown grass, lilac blossoms, and clean laundry she hung out to dry just hours earlier. Why use electricity to dry those clothes if the summer breeze could do it just as well as a dryer could?

Observing the slowly setting sun, she drinks in the pale peach, vivid purples, and deep indigos of the sky and exhales slowly, committing the vision to memory. The grounds were truly beautiful this time of year, especially her mother's flower garden.

She is content for the moment, golden hair glinting slightly in the dying light, a wayward breeze curling around her playfully, shifting her locks slightly to dance a merry dance, full of joy and happiness.

The night loved her. And she loved it. Memories of her mother, a small telescope, and many, many thermoses of sweet hot chocolate sweep through her mind.

The night sky always brought back a feeling of nostalgia for her. She smiles at the stars then, silently wishing them a good morning, seeing as they had only just woken up.

It was only polite.

Spotting Vega, the brightest star in the Lyre constellation she knows it's time to start on dinner, the grumbling in her stomach reminding her of the lunch she missed. She knows no one else would make it.

Tracing the faint constellation of Draco the Dragon with her pointer finger, she utters her first words of the day.

"Good morning my friends, I hope you slept well. It's a new day for you; I trust you will enjoy yourselves."

She almost wishes that someone would answer back. But nothing does. The night, just like all the others previous, is empty.

-ooo-

The young woman hums the same song again as she reaches the expansive kitchen, flicking on the overhead lights. Chrome appliances gleam from every corner. She feels like pasta tonight, thick with cream and savoury cheeses.

She reasons that it won't be too fatty if she adds mushrooms and spinach. Because the vegetables cancel out the calories of the creamier elements.

Obviously.

Nodding at her flawless logic, she fills a deep pot with water and sets it on the stove, willing her body into auto pilot. Preparing meals for herself and her family for years has now become second nature. Chopping, peeling, washing and stirring happen without a second thought now.

All too soon the meal is prepared, hot and fresh, steaming in the cooler night air coming in through the open windows.

She pops her head out of the kitchen door and takes a deep breath, steadying her feet firmly below her on the ground.

"YUKI! SORA! Dinner's ready! Get your asses in here quick, or it'll be cold!" She bellows down the hallway towards one of the only lit rooms in the house, the study. Her father's study, one of the rooms she doesn't have to clean actively because it is so well used.

Giggles and scuffling feet can be heard, coming closer and closer to the swinging door.

The blonde looks up from her plate to watch as two other young women barrel through, laughing and pushing each other playfully to get at the food first. Such is the way between her two sisters. Or rather, her two step sisters, but that distinction disappeared many years ago. She loved them dearly as real sisters should, no matter the fact that the same blood doesn't flow between them all.

"Stop pinching Sorano! Can't you see that I got here firs- AHH!" Yukino, the gentler of the two, the more soft-spoken, yelps as her elder sister pinches her ass just to spite her, it seems.

"Oh give it up, you crybaby! I'm older. Therefore I should go first. Isn't that right Lucy?" Fork half way to her mouth the blonde freezes, as if she is made of ice. "Uhhh…donot drag me into this Sora. I don't need this crap right now; I'm too tired."

Forgetting her earlier fight for the food Sorano turns towards Lucy and leans against the large island in the middle of the spacious kitchen and Yukino dives into the opening Sorano unknowingly created, her bid for first dibs on the food granted. "Why are you so tired today? Do anything interesting? Is there a boy stashed in your closet upstairs that I need to look for?" Sorano wiggles her eyebrows in a suggestive manner.

Snorting oh so delicately, Lucy waves her hands in front of her face and points the tines of her fork at her sister in a slightly aggressive manner. "Oh no. Not that again. Sora…where am I going to meet a man? All I do is study and write, then cook and clean. There isn't time." She looks down a bit glum at her meal again, pouting. "And it's Saturday today. That's why I'm so tired.

"Oh right! Cleaning day, I forgot. Don't worry your head too much girly…men are stupid, boorish creatures. That only want sex and food. Speaking of food…" Sorano turns back to the pasta in the pot again, scooping some into a bowl and moving on to the drawer that holds the utensils.

"Oh Gods Lu, this is orgasmic! I think you all need to leave me alone with these noodles until further notice." Yukino groans around yet another mouthful of heaven.

Laughing at Yukino, Sorano spears a mushroom with her fork and eats it with a delicate grace. This lasts all of two seconds before she shovels the meal into her mouth with wild abandon, just like her sister. "I take it back. You were right Yuki. This is the best damn pasta I've ever had."

"You know, it's not that hard to please you two. It's a simple recipe; it helps to have the fresh herbs from Momma's garden." Lucy jumps off her stool to grab another heaping plate, reasoning that the first plate was her missed lunch and now she's eating dinner.

"I'm so glad at least one of us can make food. You know that we are completely useless in the kitchen Sora." Yukino says with barely hidden praise colouring her voice for Lucy's cooking skills.

"Yah, I know you suck at making food Yuki. That's why I banned you from preparing anything after that 'Garlic Chicken' incident. You almost killed your mother with that meat." Chuckling at her poor, poor sister Lucy finishes off her second plate.

"Well, I'm stuffed, ladies. Help yourself for the rest eh? If there are any left overs, you mind putting it away for your mother when she comes home tomorrow from her trip? She might be hungry after that long plane ride. And don't worry about all the dishes, I'll wash them tomorrow morning after my run."

Lucy didn't catch the look shared between the two silver-haired beauties. They know that Lucy works so hard, so they'll do those few dishes for her. Just like they always do. "Okay, it's not a problem Lucy. Let us deal with it. Just get a good rest eh?" Lucy nods and slowly ambles around past the fridge and stove.

Dragging herself out the door towards the grand staircase, she blows a quick kiss to the portrait of her mother and father and makes her way up to the attic.

-ooo-

The attic, while being on the third floor, was redone when Lucy's late mother started to express her concerns about how it was getting too cold outside during the dead of winter for both her and little Lucy to stargaze comfortably. The blonde's father, Jude, renovated the roof over the 'attic' completely replacing the roofing tiles with large panes of glass, turning the storage room into a working observatory. After her mother passed, Lucy moved into the room to be closer to her, the memories were thick in that room, tangible to the point of almost being alive.

She knew that her mother was now among the stars. Up there looking down on her small blonde daughter, hopefully, proud of everything that she was doing.

Glancing up at her expansive sun roof, Lucy smiles as she spots Pisces and Cygnus, remember her mother's voice as she was told the legends behind each constellation. She never knew why her Mother insisted that each constellation and all the stars that made them up were important. Terribly important.

But if they were important enough to her Momma, who was she to argue? They were now important to Lucy as well.

Lucy, darling, these stars and constellations I'm teaching you about are not just dots in the sky. They are living beings, breathing and feeling and playing just like you or I. We are children of the night time sky, both of us, and therefore we are the guardians of these stars and their stories. We must keep them safe, for they are the gates into other realms. Heaven and hell, other worlds that we know nothing of, places made from our wildest dreams. Promise me Lucy, promise me you will forever remember everything that I tell you about them and continue to expand your knowledge of the night sky after I am gone? Promise me you will always love the stars. Promise me little star…

She was young. Oh, so young, and didn't really know what her mother meant at the time. So she promised her mother that she would remember and protect and love them just as she had.

A year later her mother was gone from this world, but every lesson that she was taught was engraved in Lucy's mind as if scorched there by fire.

To this day Lucy keeps her promises to her Momma she made when we was six years old. But she still doesn't know what her mother meant, her voice sounded so serious then, such a sharp contrast to the tone that she usually used, so Lucy couldn't help but keep that speech at the forefront of her mind.

It was important. So she learned all she could, she kept the stars company on her more lonely nights, and she loved them all, each and every sparkling light.

And the stars watched her in return; they witnessed her grow up into a beautiful woman, they saw her change and learn and keep her promises that she made to her mother that summer night. One much like todays. They were the only witnesses to the pack that Lucy made with her Momma.

The stars loved her as well. Lucy was sure of that because her mother was up there. So, anywhere her mother was, she was loved.

With that in mind, Lucy sat at her writing desk, flipping her laptop open she shot off a quick 'letter' to her mother. Hundreds upon hundreds of them were currently stored on an online backup service, just in case she ever lost all her work. Her novel she started, one about all the stories and legends that her mother told her about the stars, just so that she could keep them straight inside her head, was also on her computer. It was open to the page where she started writing about Leo the Lion, strongest and most loyal of all the zodiac. He would have a stately mane that flickered orange like a live flame and piercing jade green eyes that seemed to see into your soul. He would be as big as a house, with a roar like thunder at the heart of a storm.

Smiling to herself, Lucy quickly logged on to the website dedicated to Magnolia University. She was studying both astronomy and creative writing at the same time, Lucy's plate was indeed full. Not to mention the fact that she was taking both of them online because she just didn't like leaving her big, old, empty house. But it was all to keep her promise, to further learn and document those stars that she held so dear to her heart.

As had become customary in her night time ritual, she also logged on to a chat room connected to the University. The staff had reasoned that if there was a place for students to talk together, homework and assignments would become easier.

It was a wholesome idea that started with good intentions but veered off slightly in recent years. Students who once talked about education together now only used this service to hook up anonymously with others as names are not required to use the chat function, only a username. But Lucy used it to talk to her friends.

A few months ago, Lucy was looking on an obscure website she needed for a project in her dead languages class and a few rogue clicks later she had stumbled upon – quite by accident of course – the chat room. So on a whim, which was unlike her in many ways, she created a profile and signed up using the username ChildoftheStars in homage to her mother.

Since that day, checking the chat room for specific usernames has become a routine for Lucy. There were only two people that she talked with almost on a daily basis. One, a young woman around the same age as Lucy named Levy McGarden. They exchanged real names almost instantly and just…clicked on some level that neither of them questioned. Outside her sisters, Levy was the only other woman that she talked to on a regular basis. What caught Lucy's attention first about Levy was her username. Being in the middle of the Latin portion of her dead languages class she took an immediate liking to the name that Levy chose: SolidumVerbum.

They talked back and forth for a single night about the finer points of languages – Levy being the more knowledgeable of the two – and learned that they did indeed have many things in common with each other, including their love of all things literature. So being the courageous woman she was, Lucy told Levy her full name in a burst of new found confidence and Levy gave hers in return. A beautiful friendship was born that spring night in early April.

Checking the status of Levy's icon, Lucy was disappointed to see that her bibliophile friend was offline at the moment. Slightly sad, the blonde checked the status of her other friend who used the username FireSalamander. In contrast to Levy, he had sought Lucy out to chat one day, completely out of the blue. Being the lonely woman she is, Lucy answered the simple question of "Do you like dragons?" With a firm and definitive "Yes. I do. My favourite is Draco the Dragon." And their friendship was all but written in stone. A peculiar way to start a conversation, but what in life always goes to plan?

She didn't know the actual name or what this friend looked like, but she knew without a doubt that she considered her to be her closest, most trusted friend, even though he was still a mysterious figure, hiding behind the anonymity that one can find online. She understood, though, because the real names of things have an almost…power to them. If she knew what his name was, the illusion would be shattered. It was seductive and dark to Lucy, to not give up her name to this stranger, so she followed suit and kept her identity to herself.

Lucy shared more with him – she was ninety-eight percent sure that it was indeed a man – than she had ever shared with anyone in her entire life, including both her sisters. But in this, they were both the same. FireSalamander shared many profound things about himself, about his father leaving him at a young age, about him being alone his whole life, about his blue cat named Happy, nothing was off limits to them. It was quid pro quo at its finest, for every secret Lucy divulged, he returned in kind.

But to her ever maddening surprise, FireSalamander wasn't on either, which was slightly strange for this time of night.

So she shrugged and quickly glanced at the clock, balking a bit at the late hour. Lucy rushed through her nightly routine, brushing teeth and hair, picking out a cute outfit for tomorrow. She was visiting her mother's grave after all.

As she laid down on her queen sized bed, Lucy gazed lovingly up at her friends. She traced Ophiuchus with a single finger and smiled.

Eyes growing heavy, she turned over on her right side and blew out a slow breath. "Good night my stars, may you shine bright tonight just as you did yesterday. Please watch over me as I sleep. I love you, Momma, I love you, Papa."

As Lucy fell asleep, she thought she could hear a small voice answer back.

Goodnight, star child, we are always watching.

But she knew that it was just the imagination of a lonely girl, full of emotion because the stars can't talk. So the night must be like every other night before it.

Empty.