Never had she seen herself in the mirror of alchemist. Nor had she dreamed of it, and yet, there she was.
Desperate to grasp the ideas and overwhelming information thrust into her frail frame, she grew and sowed the seeds of skepticism. Skepticism in herself and her abilities and her strength.
However, being the type of fighter she was, she held herself with the help of a circle of companions true to the end. Dead in the night she traveled through the pages of knowledge, sailing the seas of information, navigating the maze of numbers, braving the depths of the unknown.
With each day, she grew stronger. Of body and mind. With each word, she grew sharper. Of mind and body. With each second, she grew older. Of body. Yet younger of mind.
And in all that paradox of time, she burst out of her cocoon, stretching and flexing, wings spread far apart. A beautiful butterfly with wings painted from the hues of memories.
High and higher she flapped. Until finally, she grasp the stars and the moon. There she remained, a silhouette of symmetrical proportion, majestic and amazing. An image of black on shining white moon stretched upon a never-ending canvas of night sky with stars.