Helia gazed out of the window at the night sky, her blue eyes bright with wonder. Her ivory hair swept over her forehead down to her waist, long and straight. The night was so calm, so peaceful and still. The world below her tower was bathed in a silvery light, streets and houses painted with the moon. Everything was different at night.
Iron manacles kept her restrained, attached to the wall like some sort of animal. The people who kept her in the tower at night wore hooded cloaks, the kind that covered their whole body. She had no idea what any of them looked like. They never touched her. All she wanted was to feel another's skin against her own and yet this was the thing they would not grant her.
"Come now, Helia. It's your time." said the hooded figure at the door.
"Yes, of course." She leapt up, impatiently hopping from one foot to the other as she was unchained from the wall. Two figures marched her down the stairs, a warning that she shouldn't try anything. It had been like this for as long as she could remember.
She kept her eyes to the floor, as she always had to. But still, she managed to capture a glimpse of a black dress dotted with pinpricks of light and a flash of pale, pale, skin.
Night and Day pass each other, as they always have done, as they always will do. Or perhaps not.