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Once upon a time, Shira could have been considered ‘normal’.
She embarked on a long and arduous journey, travelling the highlands with the purpose of vanquishing evil. Wielding her greatsword, she made new friends, new enemies, and learnt what it truly meant to be a hero.
But she got stronger.
Friends left, either by choice or in battle. Enemies disappeared, out of sight and out of mind.
She became too tunnel-visioned to see that. But one night, when she struck down her final foe, she gazed up at the starless sky and finally realised just how lonely she was.
She’d heard about the Moonlit Kingdom.
A lonely rabbit not unlike herself, who cried to the moon. The moon itself answered her pleas, and a kingdom was born— a final solace for those who had nowhere else to go. At least, that’s how the story goes.
The final frontier. Somewhere she could call home.
A dreamlike fairytale that sounded too good to be true. And yet she clung onto it like a small child to fill the insatiable hole in her. She wandered for an eternity with the kingdom as her faith— and yet, it was full of those just like her.
It was not ‘home’. Home means comfort and warmth. Yet it was ‘home’— where she fit right in.
Shira hated it, but she stayed regardless.
Her judgement clouded, and her vision darkened. She fought. She became Queen.
But nothing changed.
Shira, the legendary hero. Shira, untouchable and far away. Shira, standing at the zenith, atop her fortress of solitude.
Shira, utterly alone.
The adventurer came and solved everything.
Now, all is well. But Shira knows she is not part of this solution.
She sees a massive nest, metal beams propping up a library of unforeseen proportions. Shiny trinkets decorate the shelves, as do the tomes that shimmer a dark purple. The crows that fly by greet her with curt responses.
She walks through a city of blackened bricks and hardened steel, the light flickering within lamplights casting the wolves in blue hues. They hesitate before meekly greeting her.
She navigates the underbelly of the kingdom; a labyrinth of dark, snaking tunnels leading into enormous dens that dwarf her. Yet the red dragons that inhabit it turn their gazes away and speak not a word.
She walks through medieval streets, populated with churches and tiny houses. The yellow light streaming through their windows provides a fleeting warmth, before the little mice that swarm her excitedly chase it away.
She sits by the lakeside, watching the lustrous waves lap at her feet as blades of crystalline grass sway in the wind. The frogs come by to awkwardly offer her a few words.
The inhabitants of this city are well. They are having fun.
To them, Shira is many things.
An inconvenience, standing in the way of research.
A usurper, sowing seeds of distrust and greed.
A conqueror, reminding them of their absolute defeat.
A saviour, an idol for the children to look up to.
A leader, a distant stranger to approach out of necessity.
She is never just a rabbit; never… someone.
Someone who can feel. Someone who can cry. Someone who is like everyone else in this world.
Shira sits atop an empty throne, leading the kingdom to prosperity. She wonders if she could run— if she could turn on the kingdom and ruin it.
She can. She’s done it before.
But that’s unfair. That’s unbefitting of a hero.
Shira knows these feelings are fleeting, that they’re disgusting, and that she should be condemned for even thinking about it in the first place. Even if it was ever so briefly, she pushes it away with no space for doubt. Negativity only brings about the curse that befell the kingdom.
Cynically, she wonders when she fell from grace. How her indomitable spirit became distorted, warped with selfish emotions that made her whole once again.
How can someone like that be worthy enough to lead a kingdom?
How can someone like that be worthy of love?
The moon talks to her, still.
They exchange many topics. Trivial matters that never touch on her emotions.
The moon is unbearably kind. It gives her comfort, provides her advice, and lights her endless nights.
But its rejection always lingers in her mind. To the moon, Shira is not whatever everyone thinks of her. She is just a rabbit.
She is above everyone else. And yet, hopelessly below the moon.
The steps she must take to climb up or down are not the same as those she took a long time ago.
Shira will not find love amongst her own, nor will she find love amongst the stars.
Sometimes, the curse overtakes her once again. A familiar, yet unpleasant feeling— one that she melts into, as easily as sinking beneath the waves.
It spreads, a black tide that engulfs the entire kingdom, bringing out the worst within. Again and again, an endless cycle that seemingly can’t be fully culled. One would be tempted to give up on everyone.
And yet, every time, the adventurer comes and knocks some sense back into everyone. Reaches out to her, at the pinnacle where only the moon gazes at her and nobody else.
The adventurer always helps her back to her feet. Silently listening to her doubts and worries. She stays with Shira for as long as she needs, wiping away the few tears that rarely come.
And yet, the adventurer never goes further.
She sees Shira as who she is, and yet, she doesn’t act on it. And when her feelings leak out of her shattered heart, the adventurer has already left, taking on missions to help others just as she helped Shira.
When the sun peeks out over the horizon, Shira neatly packs up her emotions and steadies herself for a new day.
Shira knows she is better than this. She keeps going.
The people of this kingdom are kind. They learn to forgive, to laugh, to embrace. They are worth protecting. So, Shira stays steadfast, fighting to keep them safe. She listens to their concerns, resolves their conflicts, and trains the younglings.
The dream— the one that kept her going all this time— has become a mission that Shira herself is determined to uphold.
If it ever becomes too much, she knows she can lean on the adventurer, until she stands firm again.
But that is it.
It’s peaceful. It’s fulfilling. Yet it’s hollow, lacking something.
To love. To be loved.
It’s become a foreign concept, something long forgotten that only the Shira of the past could have touched. But in the sands of time, that has disappeared.
In time, she tells herself.
In time, the moon reminds her.
She gazes at the stars above, innumerable and shimmering.