**Continuing in the flashback: 6 years ago, Flowmouth**
The sun rose into an illuminating morning as it crept over the bright blue sky. The bustling sound of work could be heard as local farmers plowed the soil for harvest. A couple of men were chopping wood; a few children were running through the grass, laughing and playing. Spoken chatter could be heard in the town, although the subject was far from normal.
"Did you hear? Trish was marked by… b-by that monster people talk about," one woman whispered to her friend who was tending to plants.
"I knew that girl and her freaky eyes could bring us misfortune! Now she's one of those Marked Ones people whisper about! I didn't even know they were real. The government's bound to come to our little town and take her if she doesn't keep her head down," the other woman replied, carefully dusting off her apron.
Since the night of Vesterious's appearance, Trish was marked forever. A reddish Passion Mark that seemed to represent the symbol of an eye now rested on her forehead, as if she had a third eye like in local folklore. It was something alien to the entire world, let alone a secluded town in a country. All people that became Marked Ones had three options, as far as the country of Cryohara saw: either abuse their supernatural gifts and become criminals, like joining the Marked Mercenaries; or keep it a secret and refrain from standing out; or the final option—be drafted into the government to become either a military asset or a test subject in a laboratory.
All of this was well known by Dorothy. As part of her, she wished Trish was never born with such good eyes. Maybe then, she wouldn't have been marked.
The sunlight bathed the field surrounding the road that led out of Flowmouth. A small truck rested on the side, grey in color, its abyssal black tires testing the road as little Trish sat inside the vehicle on a brown seat, her knees folded upward as she cradled herself. She wasn't smiling, nor should she after what happened.
Outside the window of the driver's seat side of the truck, Dorothy could be seen standing in front of the gate to Flowmouth. She wore a straw hat and a white shirt, accompanied by a long sky-blue colored skirt that reached down to her ankle. She held a small handbag in her left hand.
"Dorothy, please, try to find a doctor or something, or anyone in the city that knows how to hide Trish's Passion Mark, and won't rat us out to the blasted government!" Trish's father pleaded. Despite his strong and masculine physique, his fists curled in frustration and fear for his daughter.
Trish and Dorothy's mother was on the side wearing an apron. She stepped closer silently and gently touched Dorothy's right cheek, her fingers lacing her skin as Dorothy's eyes widened in reaction.
"I'm sorry, sweetie… but that's what makes us strong. Your sister's special, but you've always loved her, and she adores you. We're a family no matter what happens," her mother said as she smiled kindly.
Dorothy's father immediately added: "HELL YEAH WE ARE!!! Flowmouth's a town that's stood strong for decades! Trish is gonna be all good thanks to you, kiddo!" he said with a confident smirk.
Dorothy sighed before smiling and nodding. "You can leave it to me!" she said.
She waved as she turned, her gaze meeting Trish who still hadn't spoken. She began walking to the truck, momentarily looking at the goods loaded on the back that she was tasked with selling.
Trish and Dorothy's mother smiled, her hope renewed as she turned. "Let's go, honey! Our girls are strong! Just as you said, you know!" she claimed, something that made her husband laugh.
"Well, obviously!" he muttered.
---
**On the outskirts around Flowmouth**
A figure stepped out from the dense forests surrounding the fields of the town. He appeared to be a male who wore a loose black suit with a hood, accompanied by a blood-red scarf that wrapped around his neck and flowed down. The upper part of his face was concealed by a dark mask with a scarlet beak and a symbol of bolts and bones that extended down on the ridge of his nose. The red eye piece on his mask glowed as he stepped out of the forest, overlooking the town.
"I trust you won't let any unholy sentiment cloud your vision, child?" said a feminine voice from behind.
A woman appeared, wearing a black and white robe as well as golden earrings on the lobes of her light-colored skin. The woman's upper face was shrouded by the same kind of mask with a beak, only showing the bottom half, which revealed a sadistic smile.
"Tck, I don't need any reminders. He put you up to this, didn't he? Isn't that right, Osmia?" the figure replied.
The woman, Osmia, chuckled. "Perhaps, perhaps not. But regardless, would you have rather me supervised your first task, or that clown Boronso? Well, Dusk?" she said.
The young man clad in black and red, Dusk, scoffed as he gripped the handle of a sheathed blade on his right side. "Let's go," Dusk declared as he lunged forward.
---
**Laita City, north Cryohara**
The lively sounds of the city could be heard—vehicles driving on the road, sirens, news playing live on the giant TV that watched over the city from a tall tower. Modern and advanced machinery everywhere: robotic crosswalks, children, teens, and adults walking by with their day-to-day lives. It was all so suffocatingly foreign to Trish, but intriguing nonetheless, as her eyes sparkled with adorable amazement at the supply drop station where the truck had parked.
*It's so cool! I… wonder if there's even cooler places out there like this!* Trish thought as her hands gripped the silver railing. The beams of sunlight drew spotlights on bridges and active transparent travel lines that circled through the air between buildings, supported by red pillars.
"Come on! Dorothy! Come on! You said you'd show me everything, ya know!!!" she playfully begged as she jumped up and down, something that made Dorothy snicker.
"Be patient, Trish," she replied with a fond smile as she carried boxes out from the back of the truck.
A man wearing a white shirt, black pants, and a red cap helped carry off boxes before noticing Trish and smiling. "That your little sister, Dorothy? She's full of energy. I guess you townsfolk are all like that, huh?" he asked as he unloaded more boxes from the truck before typing on a small laptop on the side, presumably calculating how much the garage would pay Dorothy.
Dorothy smiled faintly and nodded. "Yeah, that we are," she answered before beckoning Trish with a waving gesture. "Could you wait outside by the gate for a minute, sis? But don't go without me—you'll get lost," Dorothy said, to which Trish nodded and excitedly skipped away.
The man chuckled before putting a box down. "Well, just like usual, you brought in some fresh goodies. Flowmouth's fresh veggies are the bomb! I guess I'll have to pay you double," he said, rubbing his bearded chin.
Dorothy didn't add any comebacks. In fact, she looked rather thoughtful. "Hey… is there anything that people can do… to protect Marked Ones?" she asked hesitantly.
Suddenly, the man's eyes widened in horror as his legs shook. "W-what….NO! I DON'T KNOW!! Get the fuck out of here! I'm never doin' business with you or your wretched town again! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!" he lashed out in fear as he threw cash at Dorothy and fled into his white truck before driving off.
Dorothy was left stunned as she stood in the garage, her fists curled. Before she could vent her frustration, Trish's innocent voice rang out: "DOROTHYYY!!!! COME ONN!!! LET'S GOOO!!!!" she yelled.
In that instant, Dorothy's tension dropped as she smiled and replied: "Coming!"
As she walked out to meet Trish, Dorothy immediately flinched and scrambled to cover her little sister. "HEY! Trish! How many times did I tell you this morning? Even Mum told you! Cover that mark on your forehead!" she demanded as she quickly moved Trish's front bangs to cover her Passion Mark.
Although the dreading, cursed thought of what could happen to Trish now that she'd been tainted with a Passion Mark lived rent-free in Dorothy's head, she couldn't deny that at that moment, she had promised Trish to show her some of the world outside Flowmouth, and she was determined to follow through with that promise.
The shock of Vesterious's appearance the night before slowly faded in Trish's mind throughout the day as she embraced the life outside of her small town, taking in magnificent sights of technology. She and Dorothy had gone through a mall, where Trish showed her unique talent for weaponizing her cuteness to accumulate an almost criminally high amount of gifts, sweets, toys, and clothes. They'd even gone to multiple restaurants, parks, and libraries. Trish certainly was over the moon, especially thanks to the history books she'd convinced Dorothy to buy from the bookstore.
As the sky transformed into a bright orangish hue, only the sound of the truck's tires clanking against the hard road could be heard. Trish sat in the backseat holding a brown teddy bear dressed in a pink skirt that Dorothy had bought her.
"Well, sis? What did you think?" Dorothy asked with a playful smirk as she momentarily looked back at Trish before returning her eyes to the road.
"THAT WAS AWESOME!! I love the city! So cool! I'm definitely gonna visit more places like that when I'm all grown up!" Trish replied enthusiastically, gaining a soft chuckle from Dorothy as the vehicle drew closer to Flowmouth.
The road wound and stretched through hilly farms before coming out into a wide green opening bathed by the shallow sun and surrounded by a forest. Only, that wasn't the case.
Dorothy's smile vanished as concern littered her face. She noticed how the clouds seemed awfully dark toward Flowmouth town, and that the foreign smell of ash spread through the hill. It was so noticeable that even Trish stopped laughing and recounting the day.
"D-Dorothy… what's wrong?" she asked nervously with a small voice as the truck came to a stop on the road in front of Flowmouth, as a result of Dorothy slamming the brakes.
She didn't reply, but her expression did. Her eyes were widened to the limit as cold sweat ran down her forehead, her mouth opened in shock. Trish unbuckled her seatbelt before managing to sit up and look forward through the windshield. She gasped in horror as a result.
Before them wasn't the peaceful town they called home. No, it was a sea of flames—fire raging as houses, garages, and sheds were set ablaze, all while blood poisoned the grass. A sickly air ran through as the horrifying screams of her neighbors and friends pierced Trish's ears.
Acting quickly, however, Dorothy turned and momentarily embraced Trish with a sense of urgency before speaking seriously. "Stay in here! I'll go look for Mum and Dad!" she shouted before opening and slamming the car door. She nearly tripped before running out and toward her blazing home.
Trish sat shaking as she began to cry, unwelcome thoughts pushing her mind. *N-no… Mum and Dad… everyone's just playing a prank, right? They'd never… ever… leave me behind,* she thought before curling up, her knees pushing up against her chin as she forced her eyes shut and covered her ears, shaking as tears continued to run down her cheeks.
Dorothy rushed through her once happy and welcoming town that was now a victim of arson. "MUM!!! DAD!!!! ANYBODY!!!!" she shouted in desperation, her own eyes cracking in tears. She looked away from the bloodied corpses of her friends and neighbors—some were even burned to a crisp. Her sandals came to an abrupt stop as she froze at the sight before her in that moment.
"PLEASE!!! SPARE ME AND MY CHILD!!! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!" a struggling woman shouted in a desperate plea as she held an infant in her arms. She sustained multiple cuts and burns yet still hopelessly wailed and crawled. "THIS IS BECAUSE OF TRISH, ISN'T IT!!!!? THAT CURSED CHILD!" she desperately yelled before Dorothy could react.
Suddenly, a bullet pierced through the air, shattering it as the woman was gunned down. She fell lifeless.
Dorothy screamed in horror as she stepped back. Behind the now-deceased woman and the wailing baby, two figures walked up through the fiery hellhole they'd created—Dusk and Osmia.
"My my, these wretches sure have a habit of denying heavenly retribution, huh? Such blasphemous people deserve to die painfully," Osmia said with a calm smile that contrasted the surroundings.
Beside her, the figure Dusk walked, shorter in comparison, his red scarf flowing as his Shadow Wounds mask obscured his eyes. In his hand was a pistol which seemed to be smoking—a dead giveaway as to who the perpetrator of the act was.
"Shut up. Your constant religious ramblings are pissin' me off," he commented.
Osmia was about to reply before looking forward. She flinched for a fraction of a second before a smirk climbed onto her mouth as she spotted Dorothy.
"Oh look, it's a new one. I suppose we should've accounted for anyone out of town. But it's strange—our sources told us that Flowmouth was isolated, and no one came to and from here. Perhaps God doesn't hate you as much as the others," Osmia said.
Dorothy stepped back, her legs shaking in fear as Osmia drew closer, seemingly still yet floating in the air. Not a single part of her touched the ground as her black and white robes waved in the hot air.
Only the sound of the baby crying could be heard for a minute, until the sound of the homes and structures of the once-beautiful Flowmouth continued to crumble and burn, corpses littering the tainted flora.
"W-Who are you… WHO ARE YOU PEOPLE!!!" Dorothy shouted as she stumbled.
Dusk didn't answer, but Osmia inched closer to Dorothy. She raised her two hands and softly pulled off the part of her robe that acted as a hood covering her head. Her hair flowed out and spread down in reveal, stopping midway past her chest—a peculiar teal color of hair. She wore a golden hair clip that held a crown-like piercing shape, her eyes still hidden under the Shadow Wounds mask.
"Who are we, you ask? The Shadow Wounds. And we've come to purge this town and reclaim what is rightfully ours—one of the twenty scientific weapons from the Age of Discovery: the *Tóxo tou Ouranoú*. Where is it? We know it's in this town," Osmia replied with a patient yet feral smile.
Dorothy's breath caught at the mention. She had heard of the *Tóxo tou Ouranoú* before, from old stories from her parents. It was a treasure Flowmouth valued and kept, something mysterious, passed down through generations. She grit her teeth before lunging forward instantaneously toward the infant crying on the ground, cradled by their deceased mother. Her aim was to save the baby and run.
However, she would fail.
Suddenly, in a flash, Dusk twisted his legs and landed a kick on Dorothy's side. His ankle broke and tore through the side of Dorothy's stomach. She coughed out blood before being sent hurdled through the air to the side.
"Oh my, you certainly don't waste time," Osmia commented before showing her teeth in a terrifying grin as she peered down at the crying baby. "I'll leave that to you, Dusk. Remember the purpose of our goal, and let the goddess guide you," she whispered before floating away, after Dorothy.
For a moment, even the orangish-red haze of the inferno vanished in Dusk's mind as he looked down at the wailing infant. His fingers twitched with hesitation.
"Tck…" he muttered before pointing the pistol point-blank at the crying baby and pulling the trigger. A splash of blood filled part of the ground as the crying noises ceased to be.
---
**In the other side of the blazing Flowmouth**
Trish ran through the fiery homes and fallen wood, surrounded by corpses. Her hands covered her ears as she shook. Suddenly, her foot planted as Trish's eyes widened in horror. Before her lay her ailing father, who struggled with every breath to drag himself across the dirt, blood trickling out of his stomach as he clutched a strange box. It had a golden-plated outline and a black base.
"T-Trish… i-is that you… run away…." he mumbled out as his eyes met Trish, his vision growing cloudy as he strained to stay conscious.
"D-DADDY!!!" Trish cried out as she ran up to him, her small face scrunched in terror and fear.
"W-what… hap—" Trish couldn't even finish before her father interrupted and snapped, shoving the box into Trish's arms. She struggled to stand and carry it, despite the situation and the blood pouring from his mouth and stomach respectively.
"Listen to me… this is the *Tóxo tou Ouranoú*. A… *cough* gift we were given and have kept with us for centuries… Your sister told me you were into learnin' about the past, huh? Well, this thing's been in Flowmouth for three centuries! … Go! Take it! And run as far as you can! Don't look back!" he uttered and struggled.
"B-but! I can't! W-what about you, Dad… Please… where's Mom? We'll be alright… right? We always have been," Trish replied with cries and a desperate plea.