Chapter 2: Prologue

The silhouette of two girls burned black against a dying sun.

As these beams of light fell, they illuminated a beautiful gilded birdcage, one so elegantly crafted that it in itself was a masterpiece. This golden birdcage had a rather pleasing design; golden grapevines wound around the cage bars, great wide leaves sparking like the molten sun, truly a spellbinding sight.

As tall as two men, this cage reached into the air, beautiful and glorious, yet what it held was foul and flawed to the extreme.

A dirty girl — one of the two blazing black against the sky — lay inside, her once-dress torn, her once-jewels gone. Gone was her finery, dignity and glory; there she lay, in her ripped silken rags and shattered jade pearls. The dirt coating her body had befouled the birdcage's base, smearing black and brown on the golden surfaces.

Once a wealthy noble, her dress was perhaps a purple, or maybe a dark, icy blue — it was impossible to tell under the muck. She had fine features, a flawless face and black hair with a slight tint of purple, though it may have been from the sunset; the sunlight kissing the edges of her face, highlighting her smooth contours, her long eyelashes casting shadows that reached down past her cheeks. Long, pale legs were sprawled beneath her, protruding from her rags, a long chain shackled to her slender right ankle — she was barefoot.

As her torso stretched upwards as though her legs were pinned in place, her eyelashes that were as thick as feathers flickered up, revealing a pair of dull, lifeless eyes the colour of wilted violets.

This pitiful, foul, dirty and evil girl was called Ava.

Ava looked up at Rayna.

Rayna was beautiful; she was the dove who'd returned to kill the cuckoo, the vanished princess of light returning for her crown. Swathed in silver and gold, her tanned, elegant hand gripped a bejewelled sword, the weapon strangely fitting for her ballroom gown of light. With movements perhaps a bit too practised, she swung the sword, the tip pointing at the other girl's chest through the wide bars.

Ava, sprawled in the dirt, gripped the bars and pushed forward, ignoring the frosted blade digging into her bosom and sang softly, "Blackbird singing in the dead of night…"

Rayna's hand flinched, the sword accidentally cutting another red line, and said, "You’re a villain, and you should die. You’ve killed so many, and trampled on so many lives… You deserve to die."

Yet these proclamations of guilt seemed to slide right off Ava — instead, it was Rayna whose eyes started to flicker, to flinch, to fill with painful tears, her heart-shaped face framed by wilting golden curls.

Ava choked and spluttered a bit; she was wounded, and dying. Torn vocal chords sang, ‘Take these broken wings, and learn to fly…" Leaning forward as though wishing to kiss the other’s lips, her dress shifted, revealing that her legs had been crippled, bent unnaturally at the knees that were once hidden by petal-like swathes of silk.

Rayna paused. With a faltering, whimpering sort of voice, she whispered, "Are those your last words, songbird?"

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"All your life…"

"...I wish I wasn’t here. I wish you never did this." Rayna's sword slid in deeper — she was both pushing forward, and holding herself back.

Rayna and Ava; so different, yet so similar.

The killer looked more like she was being killed… yet a joyful smile of triumph still sat frozen on her face. 

The victim was clearly the one who was slain, yet she looked more of life than when she had a whole, untouched body.

Ava looked up with a last dying flicker, blood spilling from her mouth, unable to sing the last line.

Do you still remember our song?

Rayna mouthed for her,

"...You were only waiting for this moment… to arise."

The corners of Ava's mouth lifted as she collapsed to the ground.

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