1 - The Beginning Of The Beginning

She had always dreamed of her knight in shining armor, her prince that would one day sweep her off her feet and onto his snowy white horse. (Y/N) was the kind of girl that would spend her days dreaming about the perfect guy, the kind of fangirl that would think up different scenarios each night, herself paired with the man most handsome, gorgeous, brave, kind, courageous…you get the idea.

(Y/N) would often imagine the both of them laughing with each other, cuddled up together, his fingers intertwined through hers. (Y/N) would lean her head on his shoulder, and he’d smile that beautiful smile, and then wrap his arm gently around her shoulder, shielding her from harm. They would dance together, his hands on her waist, her arms around his neck. They would twirl around and around the dance floor, the world would fade around them, and then they would be left in their own little paradise. Of course, they would end it with a sweet, romantic kiss that’d linger for a while.

He would always taste of s’mores, somehow, with a little hint of warm milk.

Yet once the night fades and the rosy fingers of dawn stretch towards the orange sky, once the bright sunlight spills through (Y/N)’s curtains, it would all vanish, and her imaginary world would all come crashing down, and the heaviness of reality would weigh her down once more.

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A flash of lightning seared across the darkened sky, lighting it up for a fraction of a second. A loud BOOM had followed soon after, waking (Y/N) from her dream. Once upon a time, all (Y/N) could ever dream of was of nightmares. She was always chased by something that threatened to end her life, whether it be her friends who had turned into vampires or an alien power that slowly disintegrated the world particle by particle. These days, however, all she could dream about was a certain boy. The thing was, she didn’t know what his name was or what color his hair was or how old he was or how tall he was. Wait, scratch that last one. He was taller than her, tall enough to rest his chin on her head. That, she knew. Why though, she didn’t have a single clue, but she didn’t mind it; rather, she loved imagining them cuddled together, him enveloping her with his body.

(Y/N) rolled over to check the alarm clock beside her table. It was only five in the morning. She let out an internal groan. It was too late to fall asleep again but much too early for her to function properly. She had to choose between the two, and while neither seemed inviting, she chose the latter. She would rather suffer waves of yawns through class than be late.

She sat up and hastily tied up her hair with a gray scrunchie. It was going to be a long day.

---

The world was in chaos, at least the corner of the world she lived in. Just a mere month ago, she was dreaming about pretty boys and romance; right now, she would give anything to return to even the time before that, back when the monsters only haunted her in her dreams. Those monsters were nothing compared to the ones she faced now, the ones that haunted the skies above her day in and day out, the ones that wore human skins and bore human bodies, vowing to leave no survivors.

It had all started in the middle of class. A sharp ringing had cut through physics, and all (Y/N) could remember were the panicked screams that pierced her ears and the quick footsteps that led her down into a temporary safe house. (Y/N) was one of the lucky ones that day, her classroom being the nearest towards the basement reserved just for air raids. She waited until nightfall with her classmates, until the first wave had stopped. The rest of the people in the school who hadn’t made it weren’t so lucky. Only a handful of the ones above had survived, and they all had suffered severe wounds.

The school had been canceled until further notice.

It wasn’t long after until (Y/N)’s father was called into service for the army. He was nearing fifty now, but their country needed him. (Y/N) didn’t know when he would come back. She wished for him to come back in glory, bringing back the pride and upholding the safety of their nation, like the way the movies always portrayed it. A happy ending for the right side.

Four months later, (Y/N) received a letter. (Y/N)’s father wasn’t coming back.

Neither was the happily ever after she’d always believed in.

(Y/N) didn’t try to guess how long it would be until the teenagers were sent out to fight. Her father had always teased her with the phenomena of Murphy’s Law, and it was too true for her. Whatever she tried to avoid, speaking it out, it would always result badly. Her brother younger by four years was just too innocent for this war-ridden world.

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It had been one year since that frustrating physics class, one year since the war began, one year since (Y/N) had started living without seeing her family. World War Ⅲ, they dubbed it. It had been 77 years since the last one had ended. The single year had seemed like a lifetime to her.

But there was hope that the war would end soon. There were rumors, saying that more allies had come together, more than enough to drive their enemy’s forces off.

(Y/N) began praying to all of the gods and goddesses she knew–she had never taken up praying in her life before, only ever since the war began– that sliver of hope was now worth everything to her.

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World War Ⅲ had finally ended, lasting up to four years. Her homeland was still a mess, the debris that was leftover was yet to be cleared out. (Y/N) would still need some time to find her family. Her brother was now the same age as her when the war had started. She wonders if could recognize her brother after so long. He had probably grown during the years and was probably taller than her.

(Y/N) could not tease him for being shorter than her again. For some reason, (Y/N) chuckled. There was a bitter taste left on her tongue.

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A couple of months had led (Y/N) back to her family. Indeed, her brother had grown, from the once babyish face and childish attitude to the calm mask he now wore. Her mother had more crinkles upon her forehead, whether it from age or anxiety (Y/N) did not know; her mother didn’t even bother to dye her hair now as she had before, strands of silver now threading through.

It was the first night (Y/N) slept without reliving blood spilling upon the streets and souls of innocents being taken.

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A strange combination of marshmallows and milk had reached (Y/N) before she had even opened her eyes. She relished in the feeling, before fluttering her eyes open. Of course, she would love to stay there by herself for a while. The thing was, she wasn’t by herself, hence the sitting up and making eye contact with a boy near her age.

The boy was in a full medieval costume, giving off an “I’m a hero” vibe, wearing a sword sheath on his belt. It was like in a fairy tale story, the boy was gorgeous, but his sword’s tip was aimed in front of him at (Y/N). His cerulean-blue eyes glared fiercely at her own (e/c) ones. He seemed so familiar, but (Y/N) couldn’t place her finger on exactly where.

“Who ar-” (Y/N) started, but she didn’t get to finish her question.

More like “couldn’t”, since the boy had slammed the hilt of his sword to her forehead before she could see it.

She felt a warm liquid trickle down her forehead; it was the last thought that her brain had registered before she lost her consciousness and crumpled down onto the ground.