Prologue The strangled scream sent a shudder though the church. The people who happened to be there may have come to know..... that a true scream is not a voice, but a sound unto itself. A cry of such force that blood sprays forth from the throat is a shattering sound, emitted by a psyche that has surpassed the limits of it's endurance of fear and pain. There were five screams. Yet there was a single instance. As if in chorus, the screams that had come forth simultaneously, without even a second's deviation, slowly gave way to echoes...... and faded gradually away, as if to pervade the space with thier ghastliness. In their place, an oppressive silence settled in the hall. No one moved. No one spoke. Comprension had yet to catch up with the situation, so suddenly had it occured. What had happened? p.6 The people's uneasy gazes ended at five white doors. Beyond the thick doors that firmly delineated within and without were five small rooms of completely identical structure. Other than that there were no exits. No windows, not even vents for fresh air. When the doors were closed, they were literally perfect sealed rooms. What had gone on in those rooms? And moreover, in all five at the exact same time? Of course, those outside the doors had no hope of recieveing answers. They could only stare and await the resoulution. However those doors, which could not even be opened from the outside, turned away the inquiring gazes of the crowd with a whiteness that symbolized fastidious purity. At last. The people saw something begin to spread gradually from the gap of the floor and each of the doors, and caught thier breath. Crimson. That color which carries abyssal darkness in the midst of it's intense brightness spread soundlessly on the hard surface of the floor. Those gathered did not immediately recognize it as blood because the liquid which soaked the stone floor was in entirely too great a volume. If the tides of blood emanating from each of the doors had been wrung out of a human being, it was a quantity that spoke clearly of desperation. p.7 Death. With terrible simplicity it drove every vague notion out of the minds of the people. And then... As the people looked on wordlessly, the five doors opened. This too was completely simultaneous without the barest moment's deviation, as if it had been arranged in advance. It struck one not so much as unnatural, but rather as a joke in hideously bad taste. The five small rooms, dark and confining, were visible. There was one person in each room...... five men, red, lieing on the floor. Fresh blood that had seeped out of their eyes, ears, noses, mouths, and every pore... every place imaginable, stained thier whole bodies. Once white clothing was dyed crimson with spilled blood, and clung wetly to their bodies. It was a scene that lacked the savour of reality, and went beyond one's sense of grisly tragedy. It would be no wonder if they were dead. But miraculously they had breath. Futhermore...... they were moving. With certain movements that impressed one with their tenacity, yet so agonizingly slow that they could not be percieved unless one stared, they crept from the small rooms. Inch by inch. Inch by inch. Inch by...... p.8 It seemed that they could no longer move thier limbs. Like insects with thier legs caught in water, the bodies of the men rocked and swayed, piteously slow, as they writhed across the floor. But not a single one of the people gathered around them moved at all. The horror had peirced their hearts so deeply that normal, rational thoughts to run to the men and help them to their feet were frozen within them. ...So horriffic were the expressions etched on the men's faces. They didn't know what various things the men had seen or had heard in the five isolation rooms. None of them knew. But without doubt, none of them wanted to find out. The expressions were enough to assure all those who beheld them that if they knew, no more peaceful nights would come to them. Unavoidably, their minds filled with absurd delusions, fearing that if they touched the men the terror might pass to them like a plague. The crowd looked on expressionless, motionless...... and the men, wriggling over the floor like slugs, progressed towards the center of the hall, leaving long red trails behind them. The mouths opened, disgorging masses of blood with a thick gurgle. "Listen...and take...heed..." "Ohhh...listen, and take...heed..." The men's voices spilled from thier throats even though thier eyes were partially rolled back in thier heads. Perhaps nothing resembling consciousness remained to them... yet they spoke, as if squeezing their remaining life into the act. Vomiting forth blood with every word. p.9 "We have...recieved..." "An...oracle..." For the first time, a tremor passed through the crowd. "In the name...of our lord god...Mauzer...the 5111th oracle..." "We...now...shall...give..." An oracle. The word of god. It is absolute truth, with no room for doubt; a miracle that allows mortals a glimpse of a future the could never hope to predict. It was this very thing that the gathered crowd had awaited so impatiently. The blood-stained prophesy was vomited forth. "...the girl child..." "...must..." Already their eyes, not fixed to any location, were open, and the martyrs began to speak in a halting yet chant-like manner. From the five mouths flowed a single, unsettling, terribly decicive voice. Truely, it was a scene worthy of the name "miracle". p.10 Yet... "...destined..." "...poison that..." The words accumulated, and the people's expressions froze. The unimaginable contents of the prophesy began to etch into thier hearts shock, disorder, and a new fear. They knew a shread of what the men had seen. At last, the men spat out a phrase that seemed to be the end, and layed there silent. Eternally silent. The dead spoke no more, and only the words they had left weighed heavily on the minds of those gathered. Before the bloodless, half dried corpses and the loathsome words whose very place of origin was now lost, the people could only fall into confusion. ...It was the 5111th year in the reconing of the continent. In the future, that gathering which the Church of the Faith of Mauzer and the royal family of the Kingdom of Rheinwan deemed "taboo" would be strictly forbidden... in less than half a month, an unprecedented falsification of records was undertaken; thusly the 5111th St. Grendel Oracle was brought to a close. P.11 The girl walked silently in the midst of the forest. It was a night so deep that even the trees and grasses seemed to be asleep. All she had to guide her was scattered moonlight that fell between the treetops. Though she had been walking a long while and her eyes were accustomed to the darkness, it would not come as a shock if she tripped on a tree root or a stone and fell. A nightbound forest is by nature not a place that human feet were meant to tread. But with out lighting any lights, she simply walked on. She concealed even her breathing as if afraid of being discovered by something, yet her steps were quick. There was unease and impatience in her expression. 'Let this journey end soon'... one could easily percieve what was in her heart. If not of the danger of falling, she would have run. In her arm she firmly cradled a bundle wrapped in cloth. It seemed to be something of unusual importance. Her whole arm supported it's contents gently, but in the hand that grasped the edge of the cloth was confined power enough to turn her fingers white. At last. Suddenly the wall of trees gave way, and her field of vision opened. p.12 The scent of cool water mingled with the fragrance of green growing things. The girl had reached a small spring. Moonlight reflected from the surface of the water dimly illuminated the surroundings. It was a fanciful and beautiful sight, but the girl didn't have the time to appreciate it. "...Carol-sama," she said in a prayer-like voice. She looked left and right searchingly, desperation in her amber-colored eyes. It seemed she was waiting for someone, but there were no human silhouettes but hers on the banks of the spring. The uneasy expression that clung to her yet young face deepened. "Carol-sama...! Carol-sa...?!" From behind her, a hand reached out to cover the mouth which had thoughtlessly cried out in hopes of shaking off her uncertainty. For an instant the girl collasped into panic, but... "Quiet," ordered a muted, calm voice. "......!" At the same instant, the space before the girl's eyes trembled. Parts of the scenery distorted flacidly and then crumpled. It was as if someone had cut a gash into a painting and pulled it open. Eventually the distortion spread across the surroundings, which then vanished... And the space created by the gaps in the scenery coalesced into the form of a slender woman. p.13 [Carol's emergence.] p.14 She was swathed in a long, slate blue uniform, and her long, silver hair was pulled back in a braid. She was perhaps in her late 20's. True grace and intelligence, the sort that makes one unconciously straighten one's collar in it's presence, resided in her countenance. While she was obviously young, her composed manner was completely that of an adult. Her red, jewel-like eyes gazed at the girl. She removed the hand that covered the girl's mouth. "Carol-sama..." murmured the girl as she turned to look over her shoulder. A solidly built man grinned and winked at her. His outfit consisted of multi-purpose light hide armor, and he carried and unusual single-bladed sword... the sort that those who have broad knowledge of the art of war would call a "tachi". He appeared to be in the earlier half of his 30's, with black hair, black eyes, and facial features that savoured of some forgien land. At the same time, he seemed unusually burly and ferocious. He had the face of someone one didn't much care to meet on the roads at night. Yet, in his eyes which sparkled like those of a mischievious child even in the gloom, one could sense charm enough to compensate for all those things. "...Yuhma-sama." P.15 The tension fell from the girl's body like a cloak. "I'm sorry Claire, did we startle you?" said the woman called Carol in a suprisingly bright, child-like tone, and approached the girl. "Y, yes... I thought my heart would stop..." The girl lowered her head, trying to calm the pounding in her yet unsettled breast. It seemed that the pair had used illusionary magic to conceal themselves. "Well done." The woman stroked the girl's head gently, and took the cloth bundle from her arms. Looking in at it's contents, she smiled a bright, clear smile. "...How adorable." "Let's see..." The man called Yuhma also peered into the bundle from beside her. "Ooh, she really is... What's her name?" "...She doesn't have one." The girl's voice was gloomy when she answered. "I see." P.16 The man sighed and looked up towards the forest beyond... in the direction from which the girl had come. The moon far above the treetops and the competing sharp outlines of vast shadows struggled for prominence in the night sky. There was a structure so vast that even in the middle of the forest one could see it over the crowns of the trees, as if it's master wished to display his influence through its extraordinary majesty. In fact, even the sprawling forest was merely an adjunct that abutted one side of the site. "Leave the rest to us. You should hurry back." The girl nodded in response to the woman's words. With that settled, the man and woman quietly walked forth to leave that place. The girl approached thier reteating figures and said, "I... received a message." Thier feet stopped in unison, but only the man turned around. The woman looked obstinately forward, as if rejecting the words. "'Please take good care of her.'" There was no answer. The man only nodded wordlessly. With her head hanging low, the girl immediately turned on her heel and started back on the path on which she had come. The man shifted his gaze from the girl's back to the woman's back, and sighed once more. P.17 "You won't forgive her?" "I won't forgive her," the woman murmured in reply. "I didn't think she could be that cold." It resembled the anguished cry of one betrayed. "She has her her own situation. Don't keep scolding her over it. And in the first place, didn't she risk danger to entrust you with the child because she loves her?" "If it were me..." The woman bit her lip for an instant. "If it were me - if I knew Shannon and Racquel were going to be killed, I would cast everything aside to protect them... with my own two hands." "Not everyone is as strong as you." "I am not that strong. Neither are you. Human beings are weak - pathetically, saddeningly weak. But that's the reason...that's why-" She could not express the any more. Wrapping his arm around the faintly weeping woman's shoulder, the man started walking, pushing her. The woman allowed herself to walk along with him... but before long, she drew her face close to the man's shoulder with a coy gesture, and said, "We must... give her a name." P.18 "That's true." The man tilted his head. While he was of the same mind, it seemed that thinking up names was not one of his specialties. "A name that many people will like would be good." "Hmm...mmm." The man looked torn, shifting his head right, then left. "I still don't really know what sorts of names are normal and what sorts of names are strange, though." There was a subtle accent like that of a forgiener in his tone. The woman regarded him with slightly glaring eyes. "Now that you mention it, you had a hearty laugh the first time you heard my name, didn't you?" "I told you I didn't mean any harm by it. And didn't you say that my name was 'strange'?" "I was a little girl, so I was made allowances." "...So I am nothing but a cradle-robbing devil after all." The woman grinned as he turned away in a feigned sulk, and added, "This time both of us are terrible devils together, though." P.19 "Would you be refering to kidnapping, or...?" The woman gave a pained laugh and shrugged her shoulders. It seemed that even she didn't know. "Oh well, there's no need to rush. Let's take our time on her name. Her life has only just begun, after all," she said, and smiled to the infant sleeping soundly in the cloth bundle. The man nodded with a satisfied air. "That's right." The pair walked on. A silent, secret, yet certain presence watched their steps. A presence that regarded them from behind, a will that isolated them from the many encumberances of common sense, status, honor, personal history, and the symbols thereof. And so the curtain breifly closes on this puzzling tale. Until the time, fourteen years later, when the truth of the fragmented and secret events is unearthed.