A Single Fallen Star…

The instant she felt the blade puncture her skin, she knew she was going to die.

The woman warrior was extremely displeased with herself: how could she, of all people, have allowed herself to be taken off guard so easily? Her finely tuned senses had picked up no warning. She'd only realized that an enemy had gotten behind her when she felt the sword slice into her back, piercing the finely dyed battle leathers like they were nothing more than wispy layers of silk.

At that point, it was too late.

Time slowed to a crawl as her assassin pushed the blade further into her body. Maybe this was because these were to be the last moments of her life that they seemed to drag on, seconds stretching on forever. Or perhaps her assailant was deliberately dragging his grim task out for his own twisted pleasure.

The woman thrust her head back, mouth gaping open while attempting to form words. She knew it was pointless to scream: even if one of her allies bearing a Flowing Rune was within earshot, the bloody point blossoming in her chest could not be mended even by the strongest healing magic. Instead, she wanted to give voice to a final battle cry, one last mark of her presence on this battlefield that was to become the site of her last earthly endeavors.

But all that issued from her mouth was a trickle of blood.

The blade had breached her chest, its fine silver sheen glistening through the dark crimson of her lifeblood. Indeed, as she looked dimly at the intruding object with dimming lavender eyes, it seemed all the brighter and brilliant for its scarlet covering.

(…Perhaps… It's only right… After all… it has… felled… me… of all…)

Her head fell back, her neck no longer able to support it. As it lolled to one side, long blonde hair hanging limply around it, her assailant smirked. Stepping backward, he lowered his sword, allowing the woman's lifeless corpse to slide off its fatal perch. Standing over the fallen form, he admired how lovely she appeared, now that her leathers were gradually soaking up the rich crimson of her spilled blood. Red, he mused, suited her rich tan skin far better than the far too pristine white she insisting on wearing in life.

He crouched, absently brushing a few stray strands of her platinum blonde hair away from her still face. Her glazed eyes, once a piercing shade of violet that unnerved those she turned her glare upon, stared unseeing up at his face.

Would they have reflected astonishment had they been able to behold the visage of her murderer?

The man liked to think so. Leaning forward, he traced his tongue along the bloody wound in her chest, running it over his lips. He enjoyed the crisp, coppery taste of it, and it seemed all the sweeter because of his foreknowledge of what chaos this single death would wreak.

Leaning forward, he planted a bloody kiss on the corpse's copper-skinned cheek, then stood regarding his handiwork for a few moments more. Then, smirking, the man vanished from the battlefield, leaving the dead woman to be found eventually by others more immediately affected by her loss than himself.

Indeed, if all went well, the effects of her death would not directly effect him until fifteen years had passed. Even then, it would only be in his favor.

After his departure, Lucia continued to stare blankly up at the uncaring sky with sightless, glazed lavender eyes. She would never learn how her departure from this mortal plane would affect events years from now drastically… or that she had been carrying another precious life inside before the blade pierced her back.

In a corner of the heavens no mortal man could ever hope to behold in all its resplendence, a single star flickered. It shone brilliantly for a moment, then gradually vanished, fading into nothingness. Its majesty had been extinguished too suddenly, too soon…

Not far away, another star, its destiny tied to the burnt out Teni, flickered dangerously. Fate had only recently dictated that the next to be born under its guidance would come from the future bearer of the now-vanished Star of Majesty. But now that she had fallen before her time, the future of the ironically dubbed Tensyo was also in doubt.

However, before the light of the Wounded Star could also be smothered, the gentle guidance of an observer of the heavens surrounded it. She who danced along the destined stars extended her energy, locating a suitable new spirit to fall under Tensyo's supervision.

This was all she could do, however. The watcher was too taxed by this effort to search out another that would have the proper soul required to not only gain the guidance of the Teni Star, but also to restore it to its former brilliance. The Star of Majesty would return on its own, but, sadly, not in time to influence the next conflict in which those whose destinies were dictated by the stars would be gathered.

With a sorrowful sigh, she who watched the stars alone returned to her natural body, her astral form greatly taxed by her tampering with fate. But, then, she had not been the first this day to make a bid to rewrite fate…

A tear slipped from sightless eyes, trickling down a pale cheek as the blind seer Leknaat shook her head slowly. Even she could only wonder what the manipulations that had been forced upon fate would result in.