You arrive at the Brightwood Ballroom for a night of dancing with your acquaintances at the ball when you see her.
She's wearing a simple blue gown, different from what is typical in polite society. It looks unassuming from a distance, but closer inspection reveals a subtle blend of materials in the skirt and bodice. You'd doubt this was the work of any of society's high-priced fashion houses from down Regent Street and turn to seek out the dressmaker.
But before you can take more than a few steps, she dances past you. You're quickly pulled into the mental trance her wistful smile and twirling skirt send rippling down your spine.
She's magnificent.
Before you can recover from her gaze, within minutes you're at the dancefloor, wrapped up in her exhaling breath and fluttering fingers.
You can't stop looking at her. You stare at every part of her body from her perfect posture to her adorable frowny face.
She makes you laugh, even when you don't like what she's saying. She makes you thrilled, even when you'd rather be elsewhere. She even makes you feel... nice, even when you usually don't care. If she were anyone else, you'd be disgusted at yourself for charmers such as she who make themselves into your puppet and control your emotions for a price, but she's her, and so it's alright.
When the music stops and she tells you her name, her full name, her real name, you know she's no charmer. She's a witch.
Distraught, you don’t want to believe that you’ve fallen under her spell. But, as you look at her gently smiling face, nothing in her demeanor or body language makes you suspect foul play. She’s just the same as she was before you met her, and you begin to suspect you’ve overreacted from the excitement of the night. She’s speaking.
She says her name, her real name is Lady Midnight.
You’re not sure what to say. “What is your real name?” you ask her.
She tells you. It is Cassandra.
That’s not her real name. Cassandra, Lady Midnight, was another woman’s name.
You're not sure what to say. She looks at you with those sapphire eyes, and then she continues speaking.
I was a queen in a far-off land of Ombra, where the sun never sets. Even the sky of this entire world was not as dark as it. To the west, so the legend goes, lies a place of eerie, cold light. It shines like amber, like jewels, and is said to be bleak and empty as death. That place is where I lived.
I lived in Ombra beyond the edge of the darkness. For many years I was the queen there, until our world began to wither. The landscape became barren. The forests withered. The people faded into dust. The people blamed me, of course, blamed my people. I was the ruler of it all, so it was my responsibility. I was the ruler before the world began to wither, before the sun disappeared, and I failed to prevent it all. Ombra became a kingdom that reached for the sky, but knew no resting place. Our kingdom was bound to the shadows. Then the skies mounted silent, and the mountains fell to the darkness. The first people began to die.
And so I left. I knew it was my duty as the ruler to lead my people. And so I bid them goodbye. I took the fragments of my people that had not faded into dust with me, but I knew I was destined to be alone, so I took the Queen of Hearts. She was a bit of a fop, but I knew she would make a great queen. And I was right! She became a veritable queen, and she ruled Ombra with great wisdom. Many of the other lights emerged, and they followed suit. They were the people who had faded into dust, and in one kingdom we brought light. Among us shone great and glorious and powerful light, and the world came alive.
However, after many years of ruling, I was lonely. And so I came to the world of Spree.
I have been invited to a ball in Spree Town, and I found myself wondering what the people of Spree are like. They are not as rough, not as pockmarked with scars, not as ugly.
Then I saw you. Admirable and bright and radiant, with a face that could melt the heart of any woman. You are the most handsome man I have ever met. Do you like being noticed?
Pale. You’re pale, and scarred on your face. And your eyes are bluer than the sky.
Yes, I like to be noticed. I’m a queen, after all, and you’re a man. You’d be a queen in Ombra, I think. I think you have wit. You have a stare that can stop me in my tracks, and your smile is beautiful. It’s like music. And your arrogance. It kills me.
It is a pleasure to meet you, Cassandra. I’m sorry I was so rude to you, but I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. I apologize for that.
Yes, I’m Lady Midnight. I go by my middle name when I’m out of Ombra to avoid confusing you. In Ombra, I make people pay.
As you walk away from the dancefloor, the lights dance around you and you begin to wonder about the way this night has gone. You saw her first, and now she’s brought you somewhere you’ve never been.
It’s night in Spree Town, too. You wonder about what it’s like in Spree.
There are torches in the stacks. They are lit. The people of the city are dressed in beautiful clothing. They drink wine and make merry. You recognise some of the dance moves, Lady Midnight’s too. The people of Spree are lovely. You don’t want to listen to them any more. You want to go back to Cassandra and never leave.
You watch the crowds made vibrant by the light of the silver and golden towers of the city and can believe you can never leave. This place is like Ombra, but brighter. The streets are paved with silver and gold. You don’t want to leave.
But you’re her, and now she’s to be Queen of Spree anyway. This is the rule of Spree, and you’re to be Queen of Spree, after all.
You frown. You want to leave. You’d rather not be a ruler.
Still, you’re no longer alone. You’re Lady Midnight, and Cassandra is her name. Together, you will become Queen of Spree.
And so, it is decided.
