From Disgrace

Jena briskly turned to her side in an effort to evade the intrusive morning sun's rays that had seeped through the light blue curtains adjacent to her bed. She never set an alarm so the light was her wake up call. She dreaded it. As she slowly opened her eyes, she could feel the small crusted bits of dirt in the corners of her eyes. It must've been a pretty deep sleep. It always was when that happened. She sighed as she reached for her phone on the bed stand to check the time. That's when she saw it for the very first time. She lifted her head and came closer to it to make sure it was not just a projection of what she wanted to see. She slid her hands on its still frosted exterior. It was unbelievable. The glass of iced coffee she had set down on the stand the night before was as it had exactly been. Just as she'd left it; half full, still frothy, with precisely four ice cubes that were still intact. There was not even a drip of sweat. She stared at it for a time longer and marveled at the possibilities. This was what the Patrisans called the First Contact. Jena had just had her first ever experience in a world without disorder and through this supernatural occurrence, she had been initiated into a new world where all unlikelihoods were attainable and nothing was as it seemed. It was all the proof she needed to see and from that point on, it was no longer what more lies Patrick had to say, but what more surprising truths he could offer. In those moments, sitting on the bed and staring at the glass, she began to see Patrick as the mystic everyone saw him as. Her doubts for his amateur gifts were beginning to fall away...

FIVE YEARS AGO

Jena was still struggling with school. Accounting was never supposed to have taken that long but it had been a tough grind. First it had been the money issues; she had been cut off from her inheritance. Then the debts naturally followed. She borrowed excessively and soon trying to keep up with the creditors she owed was becoming a tedious affair. So, she had to look for work for the first time in her not so prim life. Between managing two night jobs and class after that, somewhere amidst it all, she lost face. She quit school for two semesters, and it was during this time that the unfortunate business with a former acquaintance began. He was a man named Patrick. They had gone to the same college, shared a few classes together but incidentally, was not how they'd formally met.

Janay was a Monarch, and contrary to the popular belief that they had all perished during the great massacre, there were still quite a few that kept their identities hidden. But like all outcasts that craved a sense of belonging in a world that had tried to erase their existence completely, they longed to find home. These evocative feelings eventually led to the formation of a small clandestine body that handled the affairs of the exiled people. At the forefront of this operation was Jena's aunt, Frey.

When they had first fled the Metropolis all those years ago, Jena had only her aunt. It so happened that on that dreadful day, Frey was out on an errand with her niece. She had been tasked by her sister to get little eight year old Jena to her dance recital and straight home after that. Frey was herself no more than sixteen at the time, and a handful still. To say that she would do just as she was told without any deterrences was a lie. The city was a very large and distracting place and Frey was a wild and untamed spirit. So, just as she dropped off little Jena at the studio, off she went to do wonderful things. But she didn't get far. Just as she stepped out of the building, she was met with a thick cloak of smoke that almost blinded her vision. Still oblivious that the attack on the city had already begun, she dashed out into the street hoping the haze would eventually thin out. But instead, she saw chaos as panic ensued among the people on the street. Something brought her attention to the sky. There she saw a sight of horror. Large balls of fire reigned and descended down on the city. They scattered over buildings and suddenly nowhere was safe. But as chance would have it, a very rational thought suddenly slipped into her mind at that very moment and she immediately turned the way she came. She needed to go back to the studio for Jena.

It was a long standing belief that the city had an emergency underground bunker and recently, Frey had come upon something strange on the outskirts of town that led her to believe it was actually true. If she could get to it in time, maybe they weren't completely done for. She just hoped the rest of the family could find someplace safe enough to wait it out too. But tragically, no one else had made it. Everyone they knew was dead. Now, alone and with a child to care for, she was left to pick up the pieces. But Frey was strong. All it had taken was a single day in the apocalypse to smite out her fears and very soon, it wasn't just Jena and herself she had to look out for. When she had found others like them on the verge of giving up, it became clear what she was meant to do. She would provide a new anchor of hope and preach faith back into their hearts. Eventually, she led them out into the new society of the Moths where they assimilated into their new way of life. It took seventeen long years but it happened regardless. They blended in and soon, all that was left of them were the poignant reflections of their former selves. That's why the gatherings had started.

Frey was no stranger to the waves of sadness and had seen the same state of unhappiness in her people. They needed something more to get them through their precarious humdrum routines... they needed community. So, a few years into the move and now considerably well established, Frey began to hold secret gatherings. She began to take Jena along when she was old enough and through the years, it had become a sort of tradition. Much later in life, it would become her gateway to disaster. This was because it was on one of these meetings that she had met him. Patrick, as she found out, was also a Monarch.