Disclaimer: Clamp owns CCS. I only own the plot and the ideas that come with it. Please don't sue or plagiarize. Kamoku No Otome means 'silent maiden'. Enjoy!
Um, Kero and Yue won't be in this story, while the Cards will.
This story was originally called Urei Otome� but thanks to Claire-chan� I have changed it� formally it meant 'happy maiden' but I actually wanted it to say 'sad maiden'. Hopefully this is better�
This is what? My fourth or fifth story? Thanks for those reviewers who have stayed with me after so long� Hope you like this one�
I'm really sorry to all my friends like Jas, Jade, Deb, Fi and Supreet and anyone else that I forgot to mention. It's really hard to write the next chapters of Western Love and Mystical Ying & Yang as I've been having an author's block.
And Jade, don't start comparing me to Deb, it just ain't nice.
Kamoku No Otome
Foreword
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow,
I am the sunlight and ripened grain.
I am the gentle Autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the swift upflinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft star shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
- Anonymous
*-----*-----*
All she knew of love were her family. All she knew of love were her friends. Almost all of that was taken away. Memories were all that were left. And that was why the mask was made. For the bearer of the silver tear.
Those who knew her identity were told they were mistaken. She had died along with her family. For that was the way she felt. Like she had died the day that her kin had been murdered.
Murdered.
That word echoed along with her wherever she fled.
And that was the reason why she ran. After the mask had been made, she took all of the possessions, all of her belongings, and her life that she was leaving behind to a safekeeping townhouse. Neighbors were told that the owners were away and were merely storing desired objects. No one enquired. No one asked.
She sold petty articles, worthless items that meant nothing to her. She only kept objects of sentimental value. Things such as her mother's brooches, her father's shaving knife and her brother's favorite painting. Dresses, she kept; antiques that weren't broken and had occupied the house. In the end, the original manor was all that was left.
Empty, bare and closed, it was left alone as the solitary mistress left, the servants departed, the gardens left to grow and overrode.
And so she began as a new person, locking away her old life.
Until the day, memories caught up to her.
Drip�drip�drip�drip.
"Mother!"
'Why God, why�'
It had begun with her magic. She had tuned it to enter minds, to speak mind to mind so her mouth began to lack the use of language. She never spoke. If ever by psyche, it was soft and few words were said. She controlled her own Cards, commanding them from her mind.
And this tuning of the brain drew her to a new awareness.
Something or someone was after her.
For the murder of her parents had been not an accident. The assassin had known magic, been able to evade her father's high security and her mother's senses. Only the sight of her brother had warned them of the impending danger.
But the flames of the battle that had been waged had been a sight too terrible that it had become burned into her memory.
*-----*-----*
That significant day�
It had been started out as a memorable day. One that she didn't know how unforgettable it would be.
Renowned for their kindness and wonderful friendliness, the family that lived on the hill was loved by all who knew them. The town was a contented area, next to a forest and used to farming. So that particular family had planned a surprise summer party for one of their favourite relatives.
They had all intended to check out a suitable location that day, making it a picnic lunch in an appropriate field. But as they were assembled around the main hall, her brother's eyes caught something. After all, his sixth sense had been warning him all week.
Her brother had been the most dangerous to the creature that had attacked. He could partially see it. It had worn a cape, woven from people's shadows and ghosts, lending a see-through silhouette. So it had burned his eyes.
Rendering her brother helpless, as his roars brought them to a fast awareness. She could still remember the mangled eyeballs, his caring, understanding eyes that had often looked upon her with hidden caring, made shrunken, bloodied and deformed.
It must have known that her father probably the most vulnerable. He knew of magic, highly skilled in history and lore but was left much defenseless. All the protection he had that day from the demon was a shield that she and mother had set up. So it had gone after her mother. It cut at her legs, bringing her down to the ground.
The blood steeped into the carpet as it began to whip her mother with an unknown weapon. Her father couldn't take it. He broke through the barrier, ran to her mother. He began to shield her. Both of them suffered greatly.
Suddenly, everywhere erupted in flames, and the force of the flames crashed into the barrier around her.
The demon had blown up. She felt its existence disappear as soon as the fire and the cries of her parents and her own heart breaking sobs subsided. Something else had planted something in the creature's mind. Making it like a suicide bomber. It had blown up as the lever had flipped. Only the protections of the shield had saved her. Everything within 10 meters had been wiped out.
Including her tortured kin. After the deaths, she was free from the force field that surrounded her. She collapsed to her knees, staring at what was left. Her father was still over her mother, the charred flesh making her throw up. Her brother was lying on his side. Blood flowed still from his eyes; she crawled up to him and tore her dress to cover it. And she lay there, for who knew how long.
It had been her cousin who found her there, still asking God why she hadn't been taken to Heaven with the rest of them. Her eyes were blood shot. Her clothes torn and slashed. She lay limp, clutching her brother's cold hand, rubbing it softly.
"You need to get away from this, forget and live. You must live. For them. They would not have wanted you to weep your whole life."
The small hand drew her away. Took her away from the dream that was her reality.
*-----*-----*
Present�
Death had come to the palace on the hill. All who had worked there now avoided it. They shunned it, acting as if no one had lived there. But if any were asked about the occupants, shrugs were given. But if the questioner pressed hard enough, the deceased family was defended. For the land and the people didn't forget them. Merely, they pushed the tragic event away. As if it had all happened long ago�
*-----*-----*
So the black carriage moved on. Rickety and quick on the street, it raced along the cobblestones, to its destination. A cozy inn by the name of Unmei.
*-----*-----*
Parting is all we know of Heaven and all we need of Hell. -Emily Dickinson
Chapter 1
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