Book One of Cycles: The Chaos Theory

They say that even the most strong willed of people are still haunted by their memories of the past, and that the most painful, embarrassing, and traumatizing of those memories are the hardest to forget. Although I can't remember their faces or their voices or even all of what they said, I can, however, remember the color of the sky, the rare bloom of London Daisies, and the clear warm air blowing my long hair into my face. It struck me as odd when my father asked my mother how she was able to hold her composure for so long, and when she bent over and said that she could do anything for her daughter, even hold back the walls of insanity.

I am not certain that this day was a warning from them to me, I do not know if they could have predicted what would come to follow that day. When I was on my hands and knees, they did not foresee me begging the Queen to bring them back to life. They did not plan for me to spend a week watching the rain from my window thinking that god was laughing hysterically at my misfortune. Did it cross their minds that I would run from the royal palace and from Planet London, jumping from star to star looking for any information on their murderers? I do not believe they knew any of this would happen, that I would go from an adopted daughter of the Royal Family to a cold blooded killer in their absence.

Much has changed in me since the day they left to go fight in the war. Not only am I mentally stubborn, but I live each day only to find those who murdered them, those who took my mother and father from me. I live to find the men and women who took me away from myself. I have vowed never to give up until the day comes that the person responsible lies dead at my feet. My name is Elizabeth, and my story is a long and tragic one.