Prologue: With That Proud Name Held Close to Your Heart!

A lone girl ran amongst the desolate ruins of the place that was once her home. Once hailed as "The City Graced by the Moon" for its enchanting beauty, the imperial capital was now a smoldering shadow of its former self. Ravaged time and again by the horrors of war, it lay barren and wasted. Scattered debris served as the skyline of a lawless land. Vaguely humanoid dried-out husks littered the streets. Once they were people. Now they were not even corpses. The crumbling cityscape looked bleaker than even the Newmoon District of old. For those who remained there, it was no slum; it was a wilderness of brick and stone.

Which was why the sight of a young girl being pursued by a group of armed men failed to move any residents to action. She ran and ran, breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her argent hair yearned to be washed; blackened by soot and sweat, it had lost its platinum luster. Mud dotted her cheeks, the dark smears in sharp contrast with her pallid skin. Her thin shoulders rose and fell laboriously as she struggled to draw enough breath to supply what few muscles remained on her emaciated frame.

Still, she kept going, forcing her legs to take step after agonizing step as she looked backward again and again at her pursuers with the desperate, terrified energy of prey trying to escape death. She ran until the dull ache of fatigue turned into the burning pain of depletion, and then she ran some more. On and on she went; the sorrow, the fear, and the fire in her lungs and limbs blurring into a shapeless mass of agony that threatened to crush her heart. Then, it happened — her strength failed her; she stumbled and tripped.

"Ah—"

She hit the ground hard, and the object she'd been clutching slid away from her across the uneven road. It was an old book. Having been condemned to the fiery fate of biblioclasm, few copies remained in the world. Inscribed across its cover was the title, "Princess Mia Chronicles." She crawled hastily toward it.

"...Mother Elise."

The girl recalled the gentle smile of its deceased author, who'd raised her as her own daughter.

"Listen, Bel. What's written in this book is the truth, and it's a truth that you must know — about your grandmother, and what kind of person she was... No matter how many falsehoods the world tries to bury it with, you alone need to know what really happened..."

So said the younger of her two foster mothers before giving her an affectionate pat on the head.

"Mother Anne..."

The girl named Bel recalled the tender embrace of another person, who'd given her unconditional love and support.

"Go, dear. Go, and hold that proud name close to your heart. Her blood flows through you. You can't die here. Go! Run!"

So said the older of her foster mothers before pulling her into a hug, her smile as warm as the blood streaming down her chest.

They were the faces of the people Bel loved. Kind, compassionate faces, which she'd never see again.

"Auntie Tiona... Auntie Chloe... Mr. Ludwig... Uncle Dion..."

Everyone was gone. Everyone who'd shown her kindness had died... to protect her. Before they had, however, they'd all spoken the same words — some with regret, others with a bitter smile. But without fail, they'd all said the same thing.

"If only she were still alive... It wouldn't have turned out this way..."

Were that saintly lady of boundless compassion, the Great Sage of the Empire, still amongst them, the empire... and the world... would surely have avoided this terrible fate. This she, extolled by everyone Bel knew, was absent in her own memories. All she could recall was the vague sense of a gentle disposition. This was why all her knowledge about the revered figure came from books.

She was undoubtedly a person who'd earned her title, and the Great Sage of the Empire was many things. As a saint, she was a paragon of compassion and benevolence; as a princess, she was the savior of her nation. After a certain point, it had become taboo to speak of her or the imperial family. Even so, when the moon was low and ears were sparse, people would speak of her in hushed voices, their faces blossoming into fond smiles at every repetition of her name.

That filled Bel with pride. The thought that the same blood flowed through her veins was like a shining beacon in her heart.

"Finally give up, kid?"

A gruff voice pulled her out of the tender world of past memories and dropped her back into reality. She looked up to find a man in crude leather armor. He wore a predatory smile.

"Look, we don't wanna do this either, but that bounty on your head is just too fat to pass up. Don't take it personally, all right?"

Beside him, another man drew the sword at his waist.

"Get up. You're coming with us. Oh, and just so you know, you're wanted dead or alive, so I'll just kill you if you try to run. The gallows or my sword. Pick your poison."

"Gotta say though, this kid's so filthy I can't even tell if she's the right one. Where's that wanted poster... Hey, kid, what's your name? And you'd better tell the truth..."

His menacing aura enveloped her like the tendrils of some deep sea horror. Fear filled her heart, and she trembled.

Mother... I'm scared... I'm so scared.

She pressed the book she held even more tightly against her chest.

Help me... Grandmother...

Just then, the voices of those she loved echoed faintly in her head.

"Hold that proud name close to your heart... and go! May you live... far and wide... Tell them... about her..."

Suddenly, she remembered — what it meant, who she was, and what she'd inherited. The blood coursing through her veins was passed down to her by the one who stood as a symbol of hope for her people. It struck her like a bolt of lightning, resuscitating a torrent of emotions that pushed against her chest. The trembling of her body didn't stop, but it changed character. Gone was the oppressing weight of fear, it was replaced by the rising tension of defiance. The raging storm within her pushed her to her feet. She fixed the men with a gaze of silent intensity, her blue eyes filled with pure, radiant resolve.

"Stand down, insolent knaves!"

Pride straightened her back and steadied her voice. Standing with her held head high, she managed to cut an imposing, though diminutive, figure. Determined to conduct herself in a manner befitting a descendant of the Great Sage of the Empire, she unwittingly radiated an aura of gravitas that wholly eclipsed what the real thing had ever been capable of. Then, she declared aloud that proud name she bore.

"My name is Miabel! Miabel Luna Tearmoon! She who inherits the noble blood of the Saint and Great Sage of the Empire, Mia Luna Tearmoon!"

All of a sudden, there was a burst of blinding light. The book she held to her chest flipped open, and words rose from its pages. They floated in the air, sheathed in a golden glow, before unraveling into gilded strands that wound themselves around her body.

"Ah— Huh? What?"

She stared in shock as she was lifted into the air. The next instant, both strands and girl vanished without a trace.

...Thus did the sands of time shift their flow.