A Celebration. The word fell heavily in her mind, the silence of the scene pulling the air from her lungs with more force than space itself.  That’s what this was supposed to be, right? The edges of the room were splattered with trays of hour ‘devours and shattered glass. Tiny puddles made the shards into tiny, sparkling islands in a sea of shining blue as warm red wines were turned cerulean by the reflected celestial light behind her. Shadows draped across the room, the hanging hemispherical lights having faded hours ago. The middle of the dance floor was startlingly clean, but for the crumpled lovers off to the left… but she could ignore them if she chose. She tilted her head to the side slightly, focusing instead on how her long shadow played on the honey-colored marble. If she concentrated, or, more, let herself go… she could almost imagine attending a party like this. The lighting would be soft and subtle, unobtrusive like the soft glow of lamps, simply there to reveal the world and cast a warm glow. The music would be graceful and upbeat, almost second to the hundreds of excited voices that sung from the guests. Each young woman would be wearing only their very best, with long skirts and beautiful necklaces that set off their natural features; young men would wear striking yet indirect accent pieces in an attempt to impress and delight the girls whose interest they wished to earn.  They would laugh and dance together, making silly promises and daring to try something new; winning hearts in the light of Earth.

 
And she? She shifted slightly, putting her legs together to give her shadow the illusion of a gown. She would be wearing her finest dress of deep purple satin, laughing delicately, blushing charmingly, speaking softly, dancing lightly… but now was time for a different kind of dance. The souls around her were in pain, were angry, were lost and alone. They needed her guidance into the abyss, into the soft and beautiful darkness. She moved to take her scythe in both hands, watching as her shadow shift from a lady to a warrior, and turned her back on the empty ballroom. The scene before her now was much different, as armed men and women lay strewn across a makeshift battlefield, their deaths sudden and painful, their damage extraordinary in the Lunar capitol. In the distance she saw where Queen Serenity lay dead, but where she was was good enough. She would take this present of death and sadness and lead it to its rest. She adjusted her grip on her scythe, and let the blade fall.