Requiem For Lost Stars

Echoes of the Past

She doesn't tremble. She doesn't even flinch.

A dangerous smirk curls upon the young man's lips, accompanied by the arch of an eyebrow, his gaze fixed upon her with an odd kind of fascination. Indeed, it's not often that girls find themselves welcome here.

What exactly was the shadow thinking?

Her appearance doesn't hold any remarkable allure. Rather plain, one might say. Petite and almost frail, barely reaching his chest. In general, quite unimpressive and not exactly imposing. Still, she tilts her chin defiantly, her glare unyielding, void of fear. An air of defiance surrounds her, a product of enduring hardships etched onto her demeanor.

Her eyes, as cold and unflinching as his own, issue a challenge. A challenge to pass judgment on her destiny.

As the tension in the clearing thickens, an unseen energy crackles around Lily, barely perceptible but enough to give her an air of mystique. The leaves on the nearby trees rustle, even in the absence of a breeze, as if they sense the latent power within her. An almost imperceptible aura envelops her, a subtle, magical manifestation that sets her apart from the other children.

Interesting

He halts in front of her. The other children, sensing the gravity of the situation, whimper, and huddle together, perhaps hoping that he'll single her out and dismiss the rest.

Such naïve boys.

"What do you suggest we do with her?" His right-hand man inquires from behind him as he tilts his head in contemplation. Her eyes widen, possessing a striking and intense shade of blue, almost violent in nature. He notices her peculiar lips, slightly asymmetrical and full, yet marred by cracks, set in a hard line.

Fear emanates from her, a palpable aura that he can almost sense. However, she conceals it, denying him access to his power through her refusal to display vulnerability. The other captive children avert their gazes, hoping to escape his attention and avoid his wrath. Yet, this one, neither the youngest nor the oldest among them, and not the most conventionally beautiful girl he has encountered, meets his stare with a subdued yet unwavering defiance.

"What's your name, girl?" He eventually asked, ignoring the shifting unease among his followers. A beat of silence hangs before she responds,

"Lillian." Her voice carries an unexpected edge—raspy and devoid of tone—a stark contrast to what he anticipated. "Why am I here?" she continues, her words punctuated by an unsettling disconnect between her voice and the face that delivers them.

He sighed, "Regrettably, I'm not sure. I detest not knowing. When my shadow returns, I will certainly ask him." Her gaze remained locked onto his, her dark brows furrowing in a scrutinizing, rather than puzzled, manner.

He was content to let her scrutinize him. He had been a void for far too long and intended to confront his own reflection.

"She's quite spirited," Felix chimed in. Her blue eyes darted past him with surprising swiftness. "She resisted us every step of the way."

She said nothing, but her eyes blazed with intensity.

He bent down, bringing their eyes level, and studied her. She was coiled like a spring, fists clenched at her sides, pupils dilated, a pulsing vein in her neck. A caged animal, ready to fight for her survival if necessary.

He was curious about something. "You've heard of me?" She nodded sharply; of course, she had. All children had. The Pied Piper. Peter Pan. "Then, if you were to attempt to fight us, what would you hope to achieve? Where would you hope to go? If you've heard of me, you know the power I wield in this place. Surely, you understand that success is impossible?"