Akari means light.
Light meaning the only array of hope given to the Ayumu nation. One of the largest empires known to mankind.
When the empire suddenly disappears on the young girl's seventh birthday, an invasion erasing the nation forever, causing...
I stand up, watching as his body falls to the ground, and with shaking hands, I put my mask on.
My hair sticks to my cheeks and neck, my clothing, filled with mud, my shoes sinking into the damp dirt.
Before I leave, I turn around, running my hands through the mud, and pulling out the picture I'd once dropped.
I let out a cry of pain as I see what it looks like now. The bright sky was drenched in dark blood. I hunch over, not caring of the people that will soon follow as a scream escapes my mouth, one that causes everything around me...to shake.
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My eyes shoot open, and I stare at my ceiling. Swallowing a blockage in my throat as I begin to feel a lingering sweat amongst my skin.
The small opening of a window in my room gusts a bitterly cold wave of air in, the curtains that separate my bed from my room flying inwards.
The small string on my lamp sways from side to side, a metronome, counting down the seconds I lay still.
A paralyzed feeling, the full consciousness of my own body but the will of immobility.
I'd never believed I could feel this way as a child, what could be so frightening that you lose the ability to move?
To myself then, most adults had assumed that my fears consisted of monsters hidden under my bed, ghosts that haunt my soul.
Because what could the 'perfect crown princess' ever fear? She is so sweet, a kindred spirit that girl is. A single horrific thought cannot pass her mind.
But my fears were much more at that age, the fear of my fathers' death that tickled the back of my mind like a feather.
Of course, I certainly didn't believe such things could be true.
And yet here I am.
Lifting a shaking palm from under the blankets, I pull the string to the lamp, immediately stoping its monotonous movements.
As the light beams the room it's soon autopilot mode for me. My body mindlessly moving the sheer curtains raking against my wrists, robotic turning of my head, and none other than an apathetic expression.
My feet touch the cold tile as I quickly waking up from my daze, my head analyzing the kitchen I've planted myself in.
Sighing, I place my elbows on the kitchen island, holding my head into my palms as my raven hair falls to my face.
