𝑬𝑴𝑷𝑰𝑹𝑬 𝑶𝑭 𝑮𝑶𝑳𝑫 ⇢ Gojo Satoru

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈 - 𝐒𝐀𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐄

TEN YEARS AGO, Tuesday, December 11th, 2007 –

KINZOKU MIKAZUKI STUMBLED ONTO THE GROUND, the rattling of chains echoing against the vaulted ceiling as her face hit the cold marble tiles of the floor. The woman in front of her scoffed, yanking the chain and pulling the girl upright as if she were a ragdoll instead of the wealthy heiress she truly was. But her status no longer mattered, neither did the golden blood inside of her veins nor the poorly dyed blonde strands in her hair.

Mikazuki pulled herself up, the weight of the chain nearly making her double back down. However, the girl pressed her lips into a tight line, ignoring the sharp pain around her wrists and ankles that were still tied to the ground. The young Kinzoku risked to glance up, taking in the sea of familiar faces and looking for one in particular. As expected, her father was nowhere in sight, the expressionless faces of her mother and her grandparents greeting her with nothing but coldness and hatred as she looked right at them.

Keisuke – the eldest, the one who would inherit everything that was supposed to be hers, was also nowhere to be seen, the empty seat he was supposed to fill feeling like a vacuum. Mikazuki winced, the absence of her twin feeling like a dagger plunged into her heart, right up to the hilt as the blade was twisted sideways. This was her life, her sentence, and neither he nor her father had deigned to make an appearance.

The girl scoffed, the taste of blood filling her mouth as she bit her lower lip.

I don't know why I'm even surprised. She thought bitterly, the taste of the words just as sour as the blood that coated her tongue.

The woman yanked on the chains again, and Mikazuki stumbled forward, her body now placed right under the skylight while the faces painted in the mural stared back at her, almost as mocking as those of the crowd sitting on the other side of the room.

Mikazuki glared at the mural – she glared at the golden-haired sorceress who wore a crown of gilded bones, she glared at the ominous tree in the distance and at the apple the woman held in her palm, the red paint already faded after centuries of peeling paint and humid weather.

Fuck you. She cursed, her voice hoarse even in the safety of her own head. Fuck you, Kinzoku Kogane.

This was all her fault, not that Mikazuki could have known that at the time.

No. In that moment, Mikazuki was nothing but a spoiled brat hailing insults at whatever she could reach, the hatred bubbling under her skin just as real as the venom that would later settle into the tattered remains of her soul.

This, this moment, was something she would never forget.

It was something she would never forgive, either.

Mikazuki took a deep breath, slowly steadying herself as the chains clattered to the floor. The room, which had previously been drowned in whispers and quiet voices, was suddenly rendered completely silent. The air turned cold and the candles blew out, making the lonely ray of sunlight that filtered through the skylight the only remaining source of light.

Mikazuki could feel the warmth of it on her head, and she would have probably enjoyed it were she not chained to the floor and being tried for murder.

Thirty-seven of them.

Mikazuki turned, golden eyes scanning the crowd once more. This time, however, she was not looking for the familiar faces of her twin brother or her father, but someone else entirely. She was looking for another set of eyes that, just like hers, were pools of unparalleled power, a well of untapped potential.