17 September 2171 – Space Era, Year 89.
In a hidden compound upon the soil of New Hope, more than two hundred fifty hostages remained imprisoned by the ruthless band who demanded ransoms of impossible measure. Though many families had surrendered vast fortunes in desperate exchange for the lives of their beloved, none found true deliverance.
Amid this anguish sat Aelyzabeth von Thors, a child of but twelve years, still cradling the lifeless form of Alexander, the Elder brother who had been the pillar of her broken household. Though he had been torn from her with merciless cruelty, she did not wail, nor did she lament. A terrible silence lay upon her soul, and it was that silence which spoke louder than grief.
Commando units stood ready to storm the compound, yet their advance was stayed by the crushing weight of international scrutiny, for the world feared bloodshed upon the global stage. The criminals mocked such impotence, laughing at the helplessness of those sworn to protect.
But then—an event unlooked for shattered the balance of fate.
Aelyzabeth rose. Her blue eyes, once innocent, burned crimson with a brilliance unearthly. From her small frame surged a force unknown to humankind, a power that spread like fire into the hearts of all who beheld it. The outlaws sought to subdue her, yet they discovered with horror that her swiftness and her strength surpassed all mortal bounds.
Within but fifty minutes, every hostage had escaped to freedom. Reporters, soldiers, and onlookers alike stood in awed silence at the sight that followed: Aelyzabeth von Thors, emerging from the accursed building with Alexander's body in her arms. Her garments were soaked in blood; her eyes yet blazed with scarlet flame. Upon her youthful face was written both the rapture of deliverance and the abyss of despair.
When officials entered to search the stronghold, they found no outlaw left alive. Stranger still, the entirety of the criminals' wealth—thirty-six million Earth dollars—had been transferred to the account of Aelyzabeth von Thors by means no one could explain.
Survivors whispered of atrocities committed within those walls—women violated, children broken, men tormented beyond endurance. None could intervene. None, until Aelyzabeth rose and unmade the darkness.
Thus did she become a living emblem of hope and of justice. Yet around her clung mysteries unspoken, and though the world clamored for answers, Aelyzabeth—whom Alexander alone had called Alisu—refused all interviews, never again uttering a word concerning that night.
Thus ends Chapter A-VII.