Prologue

"The puppet is here!"

"-No! Isn't it ... Fre-?"

The girl flinched. Her throat started to close up, tears welling up in her eyes, threatening to trickle down her cheeks and onto the ground. Her head turned slightly towards the people who uttered those words, a silent 'creak' could be heard. Like the puppet she was known to be. The puppet controlled by her puppeteer.

The girl lifted her sword, before slicing off the heads of those wide-eyed people. She continued walking, her once white dress stained red and her once silver hair stained partially red, just like her blood red, ruby red eyes. The girl then stopped in her tracks, looking up into the sky. The tears which she once was trying to hold back came flowing down her cheeks.

Her vision blurred and her senses seemed to be shutting down. The ends of her mouth curved upwards to form a smile. She started humming a beautiful melody. To the girl, the melody was just like her. Beautiful, astounding, and mesmerising. However, the people did not know how much effort it was needed to create the melody that enchanted people. A single person it may be, as long as one person destroyed the flow, everything would go down.

Maybe people saw the girl's powers as beautiful, astounding, and mesmerising, but to the girl, it could be called a curse. Yet, the people waved off the endless pleas of the girl to stop the needless kills. After all, the girl was living proof that the gods were smiling down on them. Now, the girl when against the very people she was meant to protect from those deadly calamities. Perhaps, the girl was the deadly calamity meant to devour the people.

On that historical day, almost the whole of the great Vistorial empire was destroyed. "Ha..." The girl continued walking, walking and walking. The hatred of the people followed the girl through endless hell and the girl finally gave in, committing suicide. Still, the people refused to forgive. That power or curse which belonged to the girl would follow the girl through all of her lives, whether she remembered them or not...

"The end kids! That is how the girl passed away! The girl who nearly killed your great grandparents..." The story teller smiled as he pointed at each of the little kids, his eyes wide. He ruffled the children who had innocent looks on their faces, when a little girl, around 5-6 asked, "What was her name?" Her voice was filled with curiosity and the story teller looked at her indulgently. "Oh... The girl's name, you ask." The story teller furrowed his eyebrows as he stroked his beard.

"Freesia. Freesia Wisteria."

This is a tale of a girl who was Freesia Wisteria, but not her too. The same blood red ruby eyes, as if announcing to the world she was a murderer, and that beautiful silver hair which looked like the moon, they looked identical. Her name was not Freesia Wisteria, but Azalea. Azalea Marguerite. Both who share the same past, present and futur- bzzt.