"Looked in the mirror, 
 I don't know who I am, anymore.
 The face is familiar.  
 But the eyes...the eyes give it all away."
                       -James

The cliff rose high over the stony ground. From above, a layer of cloud hid this fact well, making it seem almost as if one could walk from the edge into the sky itself instead of plummeting to a sure death on the rocks below. The story was often told in younger circles that it was from this very cliff that the mourning Roderigo had leapt in order to join his lost love, Christanya. It was a popular Arusian legend at which adults scoffed. There was no proof that such a thing had ever happened, though that mattered little to the more passionate youth. It was a beautiful, tragic, romantic story, the stuff of which young girls' dreams are made.

Allura could not help but remember the tale herself as she stood there above the clouds. ‘Roderigo stood at the cliff's edge, gazing into the sea of clouds, the moon glistening in his tears. "We will be together, my love." he whispered. "I shall walk into heaven and hold you in my arms once again." And with that, he stepped from the cliff and into the heavens themselves...' Such a great love had been here. How ironic that it would be here where she waited to meet Lotor, her greatest enemy.

She had little choice in the matter. He had made that more than clear. After so many battles, so many tricks, so many schemes, it seemed that Lotor actually had the upper hand. And it was not a hand that could be as easily shaken of as in the past. The planet was practically the property of Doom already. The prince had requested to meet Allura here because he had something he wished to discuss with her. She felt fairly sure she knew what he was going to say. It had been awhile since his last proposal, but this was the perfect time for another one. He knew she could not say ‘no' now, not if he offered her any kind of protection for her planet and her people.

One moment she was alone, looking absently out into the sky, and the next, he was with her. Out of all the times he had come to see her, whether in her gardens or in the forest, she had never heard him coming. Lotor always seemed to simply appear. For once, he did not announce his presence by sneaking up behind her and pulling her into his arms. Instead, he offered an unusually courteous greeting.

"Princess Allura. How kind of you to agree to this meeting."

She spun around, startled to hear him when she had not known he had arrived. He was only a few feet away from her and there was no sign of an escort or ship. Her expression hardened at his show of ‘manners' and she said in a tone tight with anger, "Skip the gentleman act, Lotor. We both know it's a lie. Just get to the point or...let me get to it for you. If you're going to ask me to marry you..."

"No, no, my dear." Lotor interrupted, holding up a gloved hand as if to halt the words in midair. "No such thing even crossed my mind."

Allura opened her mouth, then shut it again, struck momentarily dumb in surprise. He...wasn't going to ask her to marry him? Then, why on Arus was he here?

In answer to her unspoken question, Lotor smiled slightly. "I've actually come to tell you that you won't have to worry about that anymore. I will no longer be trying to force your favors towards me."

The princess stared at him in confusion. Was this some kind of trick? Was he trying to get her to trust him? "Give it up, Lotor. It's not going to work." she said uncertainly.

He took a step towards her, still smiling. "But, Allura, you don't seem to understand. I'm quite serious about this. My days of wanting you as my bride are over. Love is funny that way...do you know that?"

"What way?" she asked, trying to keep her voice from revealing her nervousness. Something didn't feel right here.

Lotor took another step forward, making Allura take a step back. "Why, how love can change of course. Love and hate, Allura. They are one in the same, you know. Both the same emotion, simply on two different sides. How easy it is to slide from one to the other."

Allura stepped back again. She didn't like the way this was sounding. She thought for a moment that perhaps Lotor had finally snapped. He always seemed dangerously on the edge of insanity. Maybe he had finally crossed it. She looked into his saffron eyes. They were so calm, so sure of what was going on. They did not look like the eyes of a madman. And, for some reason, they did not look like the eyes of Lotor, either. They were the same strange color, the same strange shape with the alien felinoid pupils, but they were lacking...something.

She knew suddenly what it was. In these eyes, she saw none of the passion...the anger...the desperation that had always churned below the prince's arrogant surface. So often Allura had looked into his eyes and been overcome by the tumultuous emotion behind them. Now, there was only a calculated calm, a distance from the entire matter, as if he was viewing this as business and nothing more. Perhaps he had gone insane, after all. Perhaps madness had given him a clarity he could reach no other way. She looked at his detached smile and wondered.

"What does this mean, Lotor?" she asked quietly.

He stepped close to her and, though she wanted to put distance between them, she had already reached the cliff's edge. There was no where to go but down. He put his hand gently under her chin and tipped her head up so she would look at him. "It means, my dear Allura, that I have had enough of you. Enough of your refusals and your rebukes. Enough of your slaps and insults. You will never love me and so I will not love you." His tone was matter-of-fact, though the words would seem those meant to be said in anger. It gave Allura a chill to hear them said so.

He ran a finger softly along her jaw line. "You are beautiful, princess, but you are also cruel...to deny a man a second chance. To judge him solely on past deeds and of the deeds of his father, without considering why he did them. I dreamed of you since first I saw you...lusted after you, worshiped you, agonized over you. But, no more."

At once, his hand tightened on her jaw, clamping it painfully in a vice-like grip. Even if she had not been frozen in place by fear and confusion, she knew there was little chance of escape. Her feet were at the cliff's edge, the ground crumbling away loosely under her heels. Lotor brought his face close to hers, his still perfectly relaxed yellow eyes looking straight into her frightened blue ones. "What does it mean, you ask?" he murmured softly. "It means simply this, princess...I have decided to put you out of my misery."

And with that, he calmly pushed her from the cliff.

1 — "Planetary Silhouette"

Nakiva sat back with a hissed sigh, long fingers massaging his forehead. It would not be long before he was called again and he had little or nothing new to report. As if this came as a surprise. It was not easy to focus his sight beyond the barriers of the palace and it became even harder when he was asked to look so far away. There were infinite planets out there...Infinite civilizations and situations. How could she expect him to find just the right one? The proverbial needle in the haystack? He was beginning to think there was nothing to be found.

A warm, stale breeze blew in from the open window, stirring papers and ruffling Nakiva's dark purple hair. The wind stank. Though it moved the air within the barrier, all it succeeded in doing was circulating the exact same air over and over again. There was no way to escape the smell, the sickly mixture of dust, neglect and death. Traces of the old sickness still clung to some places, as well, dredging up memories of the not so forgotten past. He would have closed the window long ago, but there was no point. The smell would still be there. The breeze just brought it to one's attention.

The room in which he sat was dark, intentionally so to make his task easier. Too much light interfered with the viewing pool. Candles were scarce, anyhow, and not to be used lightly. They were only used in times of extreme need which had become fewer and far between as the number of inhabitants had lessened. The window offered no illumination either, the sky outside hidden behind a curtain of darkness that had not been penetrated in an endlessly long time. In all likelihood, of those still living in the palace, there would not be many who remembered what day was...or that there ever was such a thing in the first place.

Nakiva remembered...somewhat. He had been sleeping when the barrier was erected, but he had seen day before then. It was a distant memory now, stored back with the other pieces of information he did not need. He sometimes dreamed of it, though, of the sky. The elders said it had been pale blue...but he dreamed it was more. Blues, purples, reds, oranges of all shades...ice and fire blending together over a rising, blazing sphere. Odd how he would remember such a thing. It was not right, somehow. The colors he saw were too dynamic...burning too vibrantly and too fiercely to sustain themselves for an entire day. Perhaps too many years had tainted his memory.

Aside from a worn desk, the room was scarcely furnished — a plain bed and three bookshelves all that remained from the previous owner. Nakiva had made few additions, not having many possessions worth worrying about. The bookshelves were lined with the few books that had survived the fires and the desk was covered in scrolls and papers, mostly notes, diagrams and maps of the world outside the barrier. A tall wooden perch sat in one corner, a dark shape, barely distinguishable from the shadows, holding tenaciously to the scratched bar. Segra, Nakiva's Familiar, was sleeping with her head beneath her wing, her current form of crow one of many she preferred to take.

A large stone bowl filled with water sat among the papers on the desk, the liquid clear and still for the moment. It was a makeshift viewing pool, at the least. The true pool was outside the palace grounds and therefore outside of Nakiva's reach. He had to make do with the bowl which offered only blurry, unfocused pictures, when it offered anything at all. That was yet another reason he had for frustration. How could he find anything with such wretched tools?

With an angry curse, he brought his fist down on the table, crushing an unluckily placed scroll and jogging the water in the dish. Segra woke with a startled caw, flapping her wings to keep herself balanced, then glaring over at Nakiva sulkily, feathers ruffled. He did not pay her any attention, his gaze focused solely on the bowl before him. The water had been disturbed by him hitting the desk, lapping up the sides of the bowl. Normally, it would settle back and be still but, for some reason, it had not yet done so. Instead, it was rippling on its own now, concentric circles spreading from the water's center.

Nakiva leaned forward and peered into the water, eyes wide. Could it be? After all this time had something finally been found? For a moment, the water offered nothing by the steadily increasing ringlets, flowing out from the middle. Gradually, however, the surface began to change, smoothing out and becoming as still as glass. It darkened, deepening into the vast blackness of the night sky. Tiny hints of starlight speckled the blackness with surprising clarity.

He frowned. What good did this do? All of space looked exactly the same when it came right down to it. This vision was useless. Except...he bent closer to the bowl. There...in the upper right corner...he could almost see something. It was not so much seeing something, actually, as not seeing anything. In one particular spot of the sky, the stars appeared to be blocked out, a circular shadow superimposed over their glittering presences.

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a planet of some kind. Or a moon, perhaps. A faint view of the pockmarked, barren surface would surely seem to suggest the later. But was there life on it? There had to be or why else would he see it? An empty, lifeless planet was of no use to them. He examined the star patterns, trying to find constellations that he could later use to identify this moon on a star chart. Oddly, there seemed to be a cloud of debris surrounding it and every now and then, he could catch sight of the briefest of flickers, as if this cloud conducted some sort of electrical charge. That strange phenomena would, at least, make it easier to find.

The water trembled, distorting the picture. Nakiva did not try to keep hold of it. He had seen everything he needed to pinpoint where that moon was. He watched as the vision dissolved back into the rippling liquid then sat back again in his chair, this time with the barest hint of a smile touching his mouth. Though he could not yet be completely sure, he felt a certainty that he had not felt in a long time. The moon was the key. There would once again be Believers.

He would be powerful again.

2 — "Spilled Milk"

Lotor awoke and, as with so many mornings before, he greeted the new day with an aching groan. For some reason, he found himself more stiff than usual and looked about blurrily to discover that he had never made it into bed the night before. He had slept the entire night sitting at the small table in his room, head resting against its smooth surface. Face first, actually.

He rubbed his cramped neck then, in slight embarrassment, wiped the drool from the side of his chin, looking around to make sure no one was around to see the rather undignified action. A wine glass lay on its side near his hand and he picked it up, peering cautiously inside. It was, not surprisingly, empty but for a few stray drops, the rest dripping from the table's edge and making a little pool on the floor. Part of him was relieved at this discovery, his head already beginning the sledgehammer pound of a massive hangover. Another part of him, the part that had led him to get grievously drunk in the first place, lamented the cup's emptiness, longing for just a little more respite from the real, sober, world.

"Allura." he mumbled in a muzzy voice, his mouth dry and cottony. He swallowed a couple of times to try to get things back in working order. Allura. Everything always went back to her. Sometimes she just would not get out of his mind and then there was nothing he could look at, nothing he could hear, nothing he could smell that did not remind him of her. Lately, it had been getting worse and worse. She was like the worst kind of drug...something permanently addictive after a single taste and then eternally out of reach.

Why can't she give me a chance? he thought, burying his throbbing head in his hands. Why doesn't she see how much I love her? It infuriated him to discover himself back on the same train of thought he had been on last night. And, still, he had no answers. The eternal cycling of questions through his head was making him ill, as was all the wine he consumed to forget them.

Since he had first met the princess, he had tried many things to get her out of his mind and, at first, they had worked. As his passion for her grew, however, so did his tolerance for anything that would replace her. After awhile, the only way he could think to escape was in sleep, and even then she plagued him, dancing through his dreams, always out of his desperate reach. And recently, he had turned to the wine, drinking himself into such a stupor that he would pass out. No dreams passed through this drunken blackness or, at least, none that he could remember. For that he was thankful. But he paid the price every morning after.

Feeling sick and growing increasingly angry, Lotor looked about for something within easy reach to throw. The only thing nearby was the wine glass which he immediately hurled across the room. It hit the wall then fell to the floor with a clatter, not even dented. It was a rather unsatisfying result. He pushed out of his chair and stood up a little too quickly, his head spinning and his back complaining fiercely at having to straighten up after spending the entire night in the same bent position. With a grumbled curse, he braced himself against the table until the room stopped moving about.

He put his hands on his lower back and stretched as slowly as he could, trying to work out the kinks without getting too dizzy. One of the only things that could make this morning even less pleasant would be to fall flat on his posterior. Or his face. Whichever hit first. Either way, he wasn't willing to risk the bruise.

At the far side of the room, the comm unit buzzed obnoxiously. Obviously, the privacy setting Lotor had put on last night was no longer in effect. Either that or it had been bypassed, which wouldn't have surprised him. "What?" he snapped, instantly regretting even the sound of his own raised voice.

"Prince Lotor," began the generically monotone voice of one of the robot servants, "your father requests your presence in the throne room..." The voice paused as if listening to someone, then added in a slightly cowed tone, "Now."

Wonderful, Lotor thought. This was the only other thing that could make the morning more awful — having to go before his father. Zarkon's abuse and insults were hard enough to take sober. They were utter hell when suffering from a hangover.

"I'm coming." he muttered, paying little attention to the soft click of the comm unit switching off. One day I will be free of this, he thought to himself as he went to do his best to clean himself up. One day I will rule this kingdom and never again have to run to my fool father's beck and call.

He wet a cloth and pressed it against his face, the cool water feeling better than usual to his aching head. Lowering the cloth, he raised his eyes to he mirror, looking himself over. His handsome face looked back, though its haggard state was hardly complimentary. He watched himself absently with bloodshot eyes as he carefully brushed his hair, making sure not too pull too hard. When I take this kingdom, everything will be better, he thought as he ran the brush slowly through his white tresses. I will no longer have to worry about Zarkon and Allura will finally be my queen, just as it is meant to be.

A vague smile crossed his face, his mind drifting on to the dreams he tried so hard to evade at night. It was alright to think about them in the day time because he could do something about them then. He could plan. With the strange sense of optimism that existed only when concerned with his beloved princess, he knew in his heart that he and Allura were destined to be together. All he had to do was make her understand. He would make her see. She would love him because she had no other choice.

The planet Elysia was magnificent. It was of little wonder that it shared its name with an ancient concept of heaven. It was blanketed in lush forests and ribboned by crystal rivers. In some regions, snow topped mountains soared sharply above golden fields and in others, glittering beaches rolled gently into the azure seas. Though mostly wooded, Elysia's natural splendor was interspersed with small, technologically advanced cities, packed in tight clusters among the wilderness. The crown city of Etain was, appropriately, the planet's crowning glory with the royal palace rising like a jewel from its very center.

With its bustling trade, idyllic landscapes, and cutting edge technology, the planet seemed a perfect place to set up an equally strong tourist industry. Not many would pass up the chance to come to someplace with such a desirable mix of nature and science for either a little physical relaxation or a little intellectual stimulation. Visitors to the planet would certainly have been a lucrative business arrangement and it was a logical step to take, but for one minor problem: the Elysians.

Apparently, none of the peaceful beauty of the planet had rubbed off on its inhabitants. The Elysians were, as a whole, scheming, greedy and power hungry. To spend a day in their presence would be to turn the heavenly planet into a small piece of hell rather quickly. In the earlier years of the galaxy, before the Drule empire had even begun, the Elysian fleets were already fleecing their planetary neighbors for everything they were worth. Despite their levels of knowledge and technology, they were surprisingly barbaric in battle and took what they wanted in whatever means necessary. They held a vicious loyalty to their leader, their fellow Elysians, and no one else which meant that they lived together in relative peace and then took their aggressions out on whoever was named the enemy. They definitely posed a problem to the planets around them but, on their own, they could have been passed off as mere pests in the greater scheme of things. It was an alliance they had made generations earlier that made them such a legitimate threat.

Symbiotic species were not at all uncommon in the universe. Some Terran birds, for instance, were known to perch on the backs of the larger mammals and eat the bugs that gathered there, thus nourishing the bird and delousing the mammal. Such mutually beneficial arrangements were sought on many different planets in many different ways and the relationship between the Elysians and the Seers was no different.

The Seers were a community much like that of the witches. They had in their possession certain powers that set them apart from the world around them, their greatest gift the ability to look into anything that had a reflective surface and see whatever, whenever, and wherever they wanted and then go there, power willing. What truly separated them from other magic wielding cultures, however, was the sheer fact of their existence. Whereas witches and the like relied only on themselves, the Seers had to ally themselves with another society, preferably one that needed their talents because, without a sturdy base of Believers, they literally did not exist. The more people who believed in them, the stronger they became, and when all belief was gone, they popped rather painfully out of being. New generations were not so much born as spontaneously there. When belief was strong, suddenly there were younger Seers where there had been none before.

Obviously, it was a precarious life. Existence depended on the whim of current thought. And that was why it was so important for them to attach themselves to a planet or people that required their help for, as long as they were needed, they had Believers. Thus, a partnership with the Elysians was a rather wise move of societal preservation. The population of Elysia was substantial, giving the Seers a fertile ground in which to settle themselves and, as their numbers grew, so did their power which they used to help the Elysians, which brought in more Believers, which simply brought in more power. It was a viciously efficient cycle.

The danger of such a combination of forces was soon realized in the surrounding galaxy. The fear that one night a Seer could creep in through the mirror and do something unspeakable to enemies of the Elysians was enough to steel people's nerves to one cause: the defeat and possibly even the destruction of the common threat. Many planets allied their forces and this new Alliance was surprised to find that a number of the witches' orders were also offering their assistance. They would not explain their reasons for doing so, only saying that it was in the best interest of all involved that they did.

In the end, it was this that defeated the Elysians. While the Alliance forces battled the Elysian army, the witches set about weeding out the Seers, creating a virus-like spell that seemed to make people forget all about them for a time. Though the spell lasted only for a moment, it spread like wildfire, and existed just long enough to force nearly every Seer out of existence. Of those that were left, they sent the youngest into hiding, putting him into a sleep in which he would be protected.

The Elysian army was decimated after the loss of the Seers' power. As a final strike, the witches erected an impregnable barrier about the royal palace, trapping the last surviving Elysians and the only remaining Seer (though that without their knowledge) inside. That was the last time the palace saw daylight. Those inside were ravaged by hunger and sickness. No way could be found to escape. The few final survivors could only put their faith in the last Seer in the hopes that he could save them. The belief was small but strong, enough to revive the Seer from his sleep. He set about trying to find a way out and as quickly as possible, for though the people had faith in him, that faith would wane if he failed to encounter any success.

And it had started to wane. But that would all change now.

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