My name is Rose.

You either know me, or you don’t. If I don’t want you to see me, you do. And when you do see me, you don’t forget me, not easily. I do that to people. I’m not the kind of person you can meet and forget about.

Many people write well of me, and I appreciate that greatly. But because of my gratitude, I must tell you all the truth. That’s why I’m breaking my own laws and telling you what I swore would remain a secret even to myself. But I can’t ward it off forever…

I’ve been reading the stories and none of them are correct. I’m not the honorable warrior that ~Queen of the Faeries~ says I am, nor the contemplative loner in Rap’s stories. I think perhaps it is CityBoy03 that came the closest.

I’m not pure and untainted. Eleven thousand years of loneliness becomes too hard for a woman.

I shall start from the beginning. I think it began when I had to hunt down the first Moon Child, Miraka.

"Impossible!" I scream. "Why me?"

Charle Frahma was not surprised or intimidated by my outburst. She merely sat there on her chair-throne, looking like a regal queen who knew that my reaction would be like that. I clench my hands into fists and glare at her. "Why me?" I repeat. "Why should I be this…this monster!"

The Wingly queen lifted her head higher. "You have the power to. You know how to. You are the perfect person for the job. Please, Rosie, it’s a favor to me, and to everyone else!"

"No, I refuse. I refuse. Don’t even think it. I want to get out of here. I don’t want to do this. I want no part of it. A child, Charle? That’s just wrong! It’s immoral! How is anyone supposed to kill a child, an infant? I refuse."

She merely nods. "Very well then. You’re dismissed."

Her words surprised me. I had not expected her to give in so easily. "What?"

"I said, you are free to go. If you don’t want to do this favor for me, I cannot force you to. I don’t want to imitate my baby brother. You don’t have to. Just pretend I never asked. Go on, Rosie, go back to your flowers. The world will simply have to deal with it by itself."

I tilt my head. "There is no other person for the job? Am I the only one with the power?"

"You know it to be so. But like I said, I can’t force you. Go on back to your garden."

Pushing all thoughts out of my mind, I numbly follow the path out of Charle Frahma’s house and into my own. It is a quaint little home, decorated for my tastes and none other. The garden in the back is where I spend most of my time. You may not believe it now, but I used to love flowers back then. Nature was such a beautiful thing for me. The scent of jasmine lulled me into a comfortable trance.

<Master?> Michael’s voice was familiar to me as he hovered above me, knowing that I would be upset if he should land on and squish my flowers. The wind ruffles my hair and brings me out of my trance.

"Yes, Michael?"

<Is something the matter?>

Life. "Yes."

<…And would you like to share it for those who don’t hear your thoughts at this moment?>

"Charle Frahma asked a favor of me." I pause. Michael settles in the lot behind my house, away from my flowers but still close enough to hear me. "I’ve told you the prophecy of the Moon Child and the God of Destruction?"

<Yes, a bleak future. What does it have to do with you?>

"She asked me to kill the Moon Child every 108 years." I report numbly. "An innocent infant’s death on my conscience every century or so."

A pause from Michael. The breath whistles from his nostrils and mouth when he sighs. <It will be tough for us.>

"I didn’t accept the offer."

<You did not?>

"No. How could I? A child, Michael. They’re asking me to kill a child!"

He paused for a long time before answering. <Master, you fought alongside the other Dragons and Dragoons because you were fighting to protect the world, correct?>

"Of course."

<Just keep that in mind. I won’t influence your decision, but just be sure that you know I will be there to help you no matter what you want to do.> With that, he spread his wings and flew off, leaving me to ponder my thoughts.

It is normal for anyone sentient to protect themselves first. No matter what you do later, the first thought is always how you can protect yourself. Everyone is selfish somewhere inside, though they might fight it off every time.

It is too much for a single person to bear.

I fought alongside my friends to protect this world. This world, none other. The world where I was born and raised and grew up. The world that has given me sadness and despair alongside with joy and hope. A world where I belong. The six other Dragoons died for this world. Good people were sacrificed to save this world.

It would be too selfish to stay aloof from this. I know what I must do.

I close my hand around the slim trunk of a young sapling. "Damn." I whisper to nobody in particular.

"I’ll do it." I say to Charle Frahma.

She put down the tea she was sipping. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said, I’ll do it. The favor. I’ll kill her. Them."

She smiled. "I knew you would."

Her words made me furious for a second. How dare she make it seem as though I was nothing than a manipulated puppet? She had said it was okay for me to refuse only because she knew that I would be back to agree. I had my own thoughts, my own feelings, and she anticipated them all. She knew what I was going to do before I myself knew. Am I just a puppet then, caught in the strings of the inevitable fate?

Then so be it. I am too tired to argue. I have sealed my own fate now, by agreeing to Charle Frahma’s request.

"Come with me, little dear. I will show you something that will help you."

I went with her willingly until she dove off the edge of Ulara. She let gravity take its toll until she suddenly swooped upward with graceful wings.

I do not share her flair for the dramatic. I merely jump. The sand is soft and though the shock reverberates through me, I am a trained Dragoon now, able in several forms of martial arts. I barely feel it, concentrating on other things.

Charle’s hair shines platinum in the sun as she sits on the sand, sweeping her skirts to the side. "Have you ever heard of Spirit, my dear?"

"You mean ghosts?"

"No. Well, sort of. I don’t believe Zieg never taught you! He must have! Spirit is the very essence of life and it is what creates all, do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Spirit is something that you will draw upon as the Black Monster." She continues. "Allow me to demonstrate. This is something that you will be able to do." She holds up her hand and with it comes at least a quart of sand. She frowns and the sand becomes into a vague foggy shape of a horse. "You cannot command Spirit, but draw upon it." She paused. "Rosie, darling, this will take a strong toll on you. You will no longer be the sweet child that sings and dances and loves flowers anymore. It will change you completely. You will constantly be on the run from the mortals, from yourself. It…may be too much for you to bear."

I pretend not to hear her words. "I must do this no matter what." That is why I must block out everything that you say, or else I will reconsider helping you, Charle. "Please, just hurry up."

"Please don’t hate me for this. It is necessary."

"I know that. I’m not such a sweet child anymore, Charle. I haven’t been since he left me."

She smiles sadly, kisses my cheek. "Good luck, little darling." She closes her eyes. "I’m going to draw all the Spirit that I can toward you. You must accept it. It will be frightening at first but it’ll get better. The Black Monster is forged of hate and fear and spite. Draw on those emotions to become it."

Charle Frahma falls silent then. For a moment I think she is knocked unconscious by an unseen enemy until I feel a twitching presence in my mind. I frown, shaking my head but it only grows. It becomes a tickling and then a gentle massage that makes me relax.

It grows more powerful until I scream. I have never felt so much power in one place before. It fills my head and suddenly I can taste light and see music and hear color. I scream at the pain and the relaxation until it slowly fades away and my vision clears enough for me to see Charle Frahma standing over me protectively.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

I stand. "What the hell was that?"

"That, Rosie darling, was Spirit." She smiles. "Surprising, eh?"

"That’s an understatement." I mutter as I climb to my feet. "How did that help me?"

But my question is pointless. I can already feel the power coursing through my veins. I feel like I can suck in the sky or scratch the stars with my nails. Every breath is clear and fresh and wonderful and I want to run across the desert, fight monsters, test my physical limitations.

"Now try to picture a Black Monster. A despised being full of hate and carnage and despair and venom and bloodlust. Picture that and then become that."

"Become that?" I echo her in disbelief.

"Yes. That is the Black Monster that you must be. How else would you kill the Moon Child?"

I shudder when I hear those words but I keep my face a mask. "I will try that now."

To my horror it is easier than I thought, almost natural.

I try to shout her name and the voice that comes out is terrifying.

The blackness in my mind surges up, taking complete control so that I must fight to regain power. It is my mind and I only let you out for my missions. Other than that, you stay dormant. I warn the foreign presence, and I receive a mind-smirk in return, as if asking me how long I can keep up the barriers.

I push it aside and return to my woman-form. "Is that what I am now?"

"Yes, my dear. I did not say it would be easy." Charle Frahma pats my shoulder. "Here, this will help you greatly. I am sure you will need this to keep your beauty and your youth, which you will need as you go along. I am sure you will need it."

She fastens something around my neck, a dark choker etched with beautiful inscriptions and designs. "This is a choker formed of Spirit. It will keep you immortal."

I run one long finger over it. "It is beautiful. And it will come in handy. Thank you."

She smiles sadly. "Come, you must rest before you start out on your…journey."

I leave the following morning with two bags full of supplies, a heavy money pouch, upgraded weapons and armor, and Michael at my side.

I remember Charle Frahma’s words.

And the first Moon Child was well on its way. I have only a month to figure it out. I wonder why the Wingly queen had waited so long to inform me of my newfound job.

<Master, you are agitated.> Michael says.

Obviously. I snap, and then calm myself. It isn’t Michael’s fault that this is happening. It’s just so new, Michael. I didn’t expect this at all. I have to kill a baby, for the gods’ sake. I sigh. Come on. We might as well get started. We’ve got sources to find and a journey to begin.

And that was how my journey began.

It was very soon that Charle Frahma sent word that the Moon Child is in a town called Sacht.

I travel there, bidding Michael to stay hidden. I need to see what is going on. I ask around if there are any newborns, and there are only a few, despite the town’s large size.

It is in the second house that I find her. The mother is humming to her, and standing at the door I can feel the strong magical power. I hold out something that Charle Frahma had given me, a glowing green sphere of energy that would become the Moon Gem thousands of years later. It glows when I near the house of the child. As I walk closer, the sphere glows brighter and then I am sure of it. This is the baby I will have to kill. I run the perfect scene through my mind. Quick in, quick kill, quick out. The story of my life. A simple knife thrust and it will all be over. Or at least, until the next Moon Child.

I watch the mother singing to her child, how the child lulls into sleep and how the mother look so peaceful and happy. Must I tear this all apart?

I turn and flee.

Under the cover of the night, I slip into the house, picking the lock easily so that the door slides open. The baby is resting in his cradle, his mother snoring heavily in the other room.

I nudge my thoughts into her mind, making her sleepier than she already is. She should not wake up for another ten minutes. I turn my full attention toward the baby now.

When my shadow falls over it, it wakes.

It is a beautiful female, with a head full of dark hair and the prettiest blue eyes. She coos at me, smiling and waving her hands. I had seen Miata’s daughter; babies often did this. The infant coos again, staring up with eyes that hold only innocence, no sin. Not even the possibility of sin. Her smile is so beautiful, and contagious. I would smile if I didn’t know what I had to do.

I already know everything about this child. I’ve done my research well. Charle Frahma isn’t the only one with sources. The Moon Child’s name is Miraka, daughter of the widow Relaine, who worked as a seamstress to support herself and her newborn daughter. Miraka was beloved by all in the village because she was such a sweet child and because of the magic that she emanated. It drew people to her, to put their hands over the curls on her head. She has me in her spell as well. I want to hold her to my breast and hum to her as I had seen her mother do. That was the effect she had on people. Everyone loved her.

And now I will have to kill her. Simply because she was born under the wrong circumstances. Simply because Soa is a soulless bastard who has too much time and too much power in his hands.

I pull out a small dagger. It is all I will need. Miraka’s throat is so pale, so small. She can’t even defend herself. A helpless just-born lying in a cradle giggling at me, and I staring down at it with cold eyes and a dagger in my right hand, ready to kill the innocent creature.

I close my eyes and breathe in the night air. I had always loved night better than day, purely because the night was more magical and because it was my element: darkness. Tonight was the kind of night that I feel I can float away in, just turn into mist and drift away into foreverness. But that won’t be happening. Because that’s not possible. The only thing possible is pain and death.

Those thoughts bring a slight comfort to my mind, enough for me to summon up enough courage—or cowardice—to bring the dagger down. There is a slight squeaking sound of a baby’s gasp, and warm liquid spills onto my hands. I do not open my eyes; I know it is blood. Her blood. Miraka the infant. Gods forgive me, I have committed the most terrible crime of all.

I scream, releasing my anger and grief. I do not dare to look at the tiny body. I tug out the dagger and resheathe it even though I do not want it anywhere near my body. My scream is long and haunting and it wakes up the mother, my spell on her broken, her eyes wide and frightened.

In the dark starless night, with only a small lamp in a house a hundred feet away as light, I know that she cannot see me. All she can see is a silhouette so ghostly and dark that she will think it is a wraith.

She gives a small gasp. She is a petite woman; her small pale hand flies to her mouth. "What?"

Her eyes travel to the puddle of liquid by my feet and the darkness that is staining the cradle. She realizes that her child is not screaming. Ignoring all danger, she runs forward, pushing me aside—is that foolish or brave?—and leans into the cradle. Her howl of pain echoes in my mind and imprints itself in there for as long as I will live. Even now I have not forgotten it.

But enough. You’ve already heard my bitching enough from the various authors here. You want to know the truth, remember? After I recovered from the shock of her weak attack, I turned to look at her.

Her hands are stained with blood when she faces me. "You monster! Why? What are you?"

My eyes and voice are hard. They must be, to match my heart. "Your executioner. Your savior."

I move faster than anything she knows possible. Slitting her throat quickly and painfully—for me—, I exit the house. Leaping atop the house’s roof, I transform.

I do not even need to think about it. The trauma must have broken some of my barriers already. The Black Monster screams in glee as it possesses my mind. I sigh in defeat, retreating to the dark recesses.

You take care of it. I tell the Black Monster. Please spare me the details. I leave everything to you.

With pleasure. The voice that replies is every death that has ever occurred, through Hades’ view, ecstatic and insane.

Of course. A sickly-sweet smile and then it shuts me out. I curl up in the back of my mind, trying to ignore what the Black Monster cannot hide from me: the screams of the dying, the warm blood heating my own, the heat of the fires, the cries of the torn families. I clasp my hands over my ears to block out the cries. I cry silently to myself, alone, where nobody can see me.

It would be the last time that I cried for a long time.

Afterwards, I had run out of tears. I was too cold to cry.

When the screams faded away and the Black Monster’s relish faded slightly, I knew that it was time for me to regain control. I poked back into my own mind, shoving the demon aside where it would remain buried for another hundred and eight years until it was needed again.

In my human form, and my Dragoon form, it is impossible to wash the blood off of my hands. I scrub at them furiously, rubbing sand roughly, hard enough to make the skin red and swollen, but I can’t seem to get the blood off. I sob out my grief, calling for Michael, who curls around me to lend me comfort and warmth.

I was sure that this would be the worst night I would ever live.

I was wrong.

I took my time to heal. But it never came. Only a numb guilt would appear. After time, I learned that the only thing I could do was become cold and hard, blocking out everything else. I became a loner, aside from Michael’s everlasting company. The garden-loving playful child who was trying to heal from losing her love was a distant memory of the past. But not my past. It couldn’t be. I could never have been someone like that.

I did not find the second Moon Child until a month after it was born. It was partly Charle Frahma’s fault. She sent me the wrong information, sending me to a town far away from the one that truly harbored the Moon Child. I had thought it was different but I trusted the Wingly queen’s judgment. But when the Moon Gem refused to glow, and I could not sense any strong magic, I returned to the town that I had originally been studying.

Tyoshi was the daughter of a kind wealthy couple. The mansion in which they lived would be a hard one to get through. The security was tight. The walls were too high for me to jump and the front yard through which I would have to run was far too open for me to slip through without being sighted. The baby was located on the third floor, also too high for me to jump. It was impossible to get through without help, even if I did transform to Dragoon and I had Michael by my side.

What about the Black Monster? A part of my mind suggested. It can simply break down the place and kill everyone.

But I heed Charle Frahma’s words. She had warned me.

Easy for you to say. I think sourly as I watch from the outside. How am I to get through this place?

Someone comes up beside me. I pay him no heed until he puts a hand on my shoulder. I turn around.

"You want in?" He asks simply. "You’d like to see the inside of this place?"

I hide my excitement at the solution that has been dropped into my lap. "It would be interesting to take a tour through it." I reply mildly.

"How badly do you want to get in?" He asks.

His question unnerves me, but I will do anything to get inside. "Very badly." I reply. Where is he going with this?

He smiles and leaves my nerves rattled. "Fine. Come back here at midnight. I’ll be waiting here."

I return the smile shakily. "Of course."

<Master, please don’t go!> Michael begs me. <I have a very terrible feeling about this. Something is most definitely wrong!>

"We are expendable, Michael. I must kill the Moon Child even if I must sacrifice myself. Charle can always find a new Black Monster, but the Moon Child won’t wait until she does. I have to do this. I don’t doubt your feelings, and I don’t feel so well either, but I have to do this. I’ll be back, and I won’t take needless risks." I leave my sword here as I go. I only need the dagger tucked into my right boot.

The man is waiting by the door. I study him carefully. To a normal eye he appears to be a tall dark-haired man with gray eyes and a scar across his collarbone. But to a trained eye, he has a darkened aura, something off about him. I do not trust him. But he only has a sword against his hip, nothing else. Nothing magical, either. So why am I so chilled by him?

"I’m here." I call to him quietly as I approach. "How do I get in?"

He smiles at me as if I have asked a stupid question. "Not so fast there, pretty lady. You want in, you gotta pay a price."

"A price?" I echo, feeling my money pouch. I have enough only for a room perhaps. I am not rich.

"Yeah, you know, a fee." He holds out his hand, not palm up, as if expecting for me to put my hand in his. Shakily I do so.

I have a terrible feeling, and I can sense Michael’s distress. But I must kill the Moon Child. It is my soul objective now, all that feeds me life. Ever since Miraka’s death. I must kill Tyoshi now, tonight. No price is too high to pay.

I think I knew what was going to happen before it did. I had my clues, the way that he looked at me, one man that smiled oily at him as we walked by into the mansion, and how far from earshot we were before he released my hand and allowed me to see where we were.

An old bedroom, dusty in most places but not the bed, which I can see is obviously frequently used.

It is all clear now.

But it is a price too high to pay. I had been wrong. I shrink away, cowering. Not this! I had not been ready to pay this!

He shuts and locks the door.

I freeze in my motions, remembering this moment forever, and the fear that I felt. Chilled. I ask him, "Isn’t there any other way I can pay you?"

He laughs. "Well, well, who would know that you were some frightened virgin? No, no, lady, I’m head of security around here and the pay is good. I don’t need any more Gold. I’m interested in only one thing."

I shut my eyes. To any other man I would have been so furious that I would have probably killed him. But I need this one to help me into the mansion, to kill the Moon Child, the only reason for my existence. My innocence or the world? The age-old question resounds in my head, as it had before, but never like this. I had never thought of my innocence in the bodily term. But I had made a promise and I never break my promises.

It is the most painful thing I must say, and my throat hurts when I say it in a raspy voice. "I’ve nothing against it. Go ahead."

He smiles again. The bed is soft. He is not.

It was terrible, the sort of thing so terrible that you want to block out, but also so terrible that you cannot. I had never made love before because I do not believe in premarital sex and because Zieg was the only one I had ever loved. I do not know why they call it making love. It is not lovely at all, and it shows not a bit of love, only lust and pain. I had been wrong in my thoughts after I killed Miraka. This and no other was the worst night I ever lived.

I scream when he pierces my innocence. I had once heard two women talk about making love to their husbands. They had spoken of it as if it was heaven. I had smiled then, at their dreamy voices and contented lives. I had believed them, too, but it obvious that they are wrong. It is not like heaven at all. It is not even the eighteen hells. It is a void of anguish, an eternity of endless pain.

He laughs loudly when my blood stains the sheets. I do not. I cannot even utter a cry of pain or tears. I am numb as he does what he wishes. I do not even send my pain outward, to Michael, so that I can dull it. I am simply in shock, but I know everything that goes on. How could I not, when this was happening?

Please, I beg in my mind. Please, Soa, make it stop. Please, justice, stop him.

Of course he does not stop.

Perhaps it was then that I lost my sense of belief and faith.

I lost more of myself then than I did killing Tyoshi. The pain was too much. Another part of Rose dies, her innocence.

I do not know how long it is before he stops. Too long, an eternity of pain and evil and immorality. Not only his, but mine as well, for allowing this to happen. He rolls over away from me. I get up quickly and dress myself as he lies there panting. I am disgusted and frightened and forever scarred.

He did not even bother to remove his breeches, just unfastened them. I do not even know his name. The unfamiliarity and coldness of this strikes me like nothing else. He watches me as I dress, and I wish that he will go away, or better yet, die, or even better yet, return my innocence to me, but all that is impossible.

He laughs when he sees the dagger in my right boot. "What do you need that for?"

"For protection."

His eyes glint nastily. "It didn’t work so well tonight, did it?"

"No," I whisper, holding it close to me. "It didn’t."

He snorts, already bored with me. "When you leave, make a left through a passageway. You should end up in the house then. If anyone asks, you never met me. Shut the door on your way out."

I do so, glad to shut him away from me. But I never can. Because this night will always stay with me.

If anyone asks, I never met him. No problem. I never met him. I do not know his name, or even have a clear view of what he looks like.

It is easier than before to kill the Moon Child because of my grief and pain. It is still very difficult, since Tyoshi is awake and giggling at me. I will never forgive myself. I slay the Child quickly, leaving her silent and covered in a lace blanket. I run away, far away from this terrible place, out of the town, away from what has happened.

But of course I can never go anywhere. I cannot run.

<Master!> Michael gasps upon seeing me, rising onto his legs. <You are…wounded? Hurt?>

I ignore him, sitting down away from him, against a tree.

He knows what happened. Of course he does; we are mind-connected. He reads my emotions, and my memories. <You have…you allowed him to…you…>

I can only nod, stunned and saddened.

I can sense his disgust and his rage. But the former is quickly washed away and he nestles beside me, giving me his warmth. <Something terrible has happened tonight>

"Yes."

<Forever.>

"Yes."

<We must rectify this mistake.> Michael says brusquely, standing up. <We must kill him, take his life from him. I will kill him, rip his throat out, feed him his own heart, make—>

"Michael, that’s enough." I say sharply. "It will not rectify anything. Nothing can rectify this."

I am disgusted at myself, for allowing this to happen. Surely, surely, I could have found another way to get into the mansion? Or perhaps I could have ignored the duty, let someone else kill the Moon Child?

<Cry, Master. You deserve to.>

I shake my head. "I cannot. No tears fill me anymore, Michael. Tears are not in my capability anymore." I stand. "Come. It is time to kill everyone."

The Black Monster is particularly powerful tonight, feeding on my own pain.

It blasts apart the wall that has caused me so much anguish, the wall that caused me to sell myself off. It finds the man, sensing my deep hatred towards him. The Black Monster smiles at me and kills him slowly, painfully, relishing in his screams and cries for mercy. I watch indifferently. His screams have no effect on me, but neither does his death. I do not even feel joy or even a sense of justice at his death. He will not be missed. It does not disturb me in the least. But I cannot laugh either. I should be able to. But it will not help. There’s nothing I can do now.

The Black Monster scoffs in contempt at me, as if wondering in annoyance why I am not rejoicing at the death of the man.

I have no relish or pain at what happens to the townspeople either.

I leave the blood on me until the next day.

I have sent Michael far away, to Mille Seseau to get me a rare gem that is only found there. The gem is said to give comfort to whoever holds it. I would like that gem very much, but I know that it has already been found by an archaeologist and destroyed by a museum’s clumsy hands. The real reason I sent Michael there is because I needed him away when I do this.

I regret doing this to him. I know how I would feel if he did this to me. But it must be done. It will not cleanse me in the least, but it will perhaps take away my suffering.

I hold in my hand a combination of Vala ‘shrooms, and Tailora plant mixed in with frostgale needle and dipped with the fang of a basilisk. Together, the deadliest poison known to mankind. Actually it is an ancient poison that was used in the Dragon Campaign but had been lost in that time period. I, and a few others that survived, like Charle Frahma, are the only ones that know of this. Surprisingly, sweet Damia had invented the poison.

I hold the very same potion in my hand, lifting it to my lips.

End of Life, take away my pain. Hurry to me, Death, for I suffer far worse than your wrath. It seems right to die. I had wanted to since a long time ago, so that I could be with Zieg and everyone else. I had clung to life for a while. But now, with what has happened, I think it is the right time.

I touch the rim to my lips, tilting it upwards.

How I will explain everything to Zieg, I do not know, but I will improvise, a great skill of life.

Warm bubbling frothy liquid spills over the edge onto my tongue. It tastes slightly sour, but almost imperceptibly. I choke on the first swallow, recover and down the entire bottle.

I lie down against a tree, closing my eyes. Everything is finished now. My Dragoon Spirit would find a worthier master. My body will fade into darkness, nothing for the humans to inspect.

The world begins to fade. My head starts spinning. Bile rises in my throat and I gasp at the pain that explodes in my limbs. Damia had said this would be fast.

Yet it is not so bad. In fact, the pain seems to be subsiding.

And then I realize what is happening.

"NO!" I scream, pounding one fist against the ground. The poison is gone now, deleted from my body. My liver had neutralized it. I no longer feel dizzy or nauseous. The venom has been completely cleared from me, the deadliest toxin useless now.

I cannot even die.

I laugh but it is a hollow sound that echoes through the mountains

<Master?> Michael calls. <I am worried for you>

"Oh."

<You haven’t spoken to me since that night. Please, Master?>

I sigh. "We should get started on finding out who the next Moon Child is, Michael."

<It is not for over another century> he tells me mildly.

"Would you rather I stay here?"

<No Master> He replies immediately, and I can feel his distress. He is truly worried for me. I am grateful for that, one emotion that I can feel aside from this pain.

As we travel, I know that I will never be rid of this pain. I am forever scarred now.

As time goes by, the security improves. It gets harder and harder for me to get through, so often I must resort to that method. By the fifteenth Moon Child, I am nothing but a cheap whore now, a quick fling to do and get rid of in exchange for a way inside a mansion, supposedly to steal.

I am good at what I do now, though it is not something that I pride myself upon. It is mechanical now, simple sex. It is sex, not making love. I don’t understand why some call it making love. It is nothing like that. Not lovely, not love, but something that I must do, a cold obligation, something to instill self-disgust. I hate it, but I must do it. It is perhaps just as bad as becoming the Black Monster. No matter how many times it happens, I still feel disgust and guilt, and I have lost touch with Charle Frahma because I fear she will be disgusted as well. I know she will be.

I have never lost the gratitude that I feel when the Moon Child is a simple infant in a small poor family with low-level security. Quick in, quick kill, quick out. But of course the gods are not so kind as to grant that every time, or even every other time, or even every five times. I have never lost my skill, my ability of physical fighting and leaping over walls. It is getting easier to breach the security now. That sparks a hope in me; perhaps I shall not have to resort to this option so often anymore. I have never lost my sense of justice, nor my guilt at killing the Moon Children. But I have lost my soul and my tears and my innocence many times over.

In my process of reaching in the fiftieth Moon Child, I wait until it is over and he is half-dazed before I pull away and don my clothes. Still I hold the air of a queen, though I am sure no queen would degrade herself to something like this. My entire existence is a farce now, a façade, a play. I am only a character moving through it as if it has already been written and predestined. If I ever die, I will kill Soa for doing this to me, for giving me this fate.

"Satisfied?" I purr, allowing my voice to run over him like a cat’s tongue. Another skill I have picked up, another thing I do not pride myself upon. But it is helpful and I must accept all the help that I can get. As my skills and capabilities improve, as does security technology.

"Very."

"Then tell me how to get in."

"The door to the right and then go down the left corridor. The password is Vortex." The man is dazed. Still young, this must have been the best night of his life. He will remember this forever. I must hide a contemptuous smile. He had accepted my offer almost before I could make it, scanning me with his eyes only, and is only too happy to tell me how to get in as retribution. I have learned that about men. They don’t mind what is going on in the girl’s mind, so long as she sports a pretty package. And to most men, I sport a very pretty package. Not many can turn me away.

He takes hold of my wrist, eyes pleading. "Don’t go." He begs.

I pull my hand away, glaring at him. "The deal was for one time." I do not bother to say goodbye as I leave.

Siban is a male Moon Child, a large overweight infant with lots of baby fat in his face. I say a silent prayer before lifting the dagger that has taken forty-nine baby lives already.

"Forgive me." I whisper. It is now more of a reassurance for me than a plea for their forgiveness. I am not completely cold then.

I leave the charred remains of the town with Michael floating two paces behind. Sensing my discomfort, he nudges me with his muzzle and then ducks beneath me, lifting me onto his back and soaring into the air.

I laugh. It is the only time I can, when I am with Michael. He is my friend, my comfort, and I do not know what I would do without him. I have not told him about the time I tried to kill myself. I do not think I should.

He flies higher and then suddenly plunges downward. I wrap my arms around his neck to keep from falling.

Yet in the midst of my only release from the tormenting world, I realize.

It happens when Michael dives down again, and my Dragoon Spirit flies up into my face, held on to me by the immortality choker that Charle Frahma had formed and given me. I hold it with one hand, thinking.

Charle Frahma had always been a devious woman, using whatever was needed to get the job done. She was also very subtle in her ways. She also specialized in divination. She also knew that I was going to accept her offer about the Black Monster.

I leap off of Michael’s back, transforming into my Dragoon form, I fly away, feeling his confusion, and my own.

sI was burned now. Alone and dirtied. Slayer of the Moon Children. A filthy whore. Worthless and despised. Disgusting.

I sit on a tree branch, but no tears come. They would not come for a long time.

So you see, reader, everybody has a darkness. Especially I, Darkness Dragoon. I regret everything that I have done. I want to apologize for the things that you have been led to believe. I want you to know the truth. That I am nothing but a dirty whore with obligations and torn feelings. I am dead now, only here in Spirit, leaving this unknown part of my life with you. And I leave now, to give you time to ponder what you have just read.

I am grateful for what Dart and the others did to me. They helped me to forgive myself, to help heal some of my wounds. But it is like a scar. It closes but it will always stay there as a reminder. Grateful though I am, I am still what I am.

Forever scarred.