The sun peeked through an open window, caressing her soft, pale face. The harsh rays reached her eyes, forcing her to wake. She rolled over and opened her eyes. She was in a bed. It was a very comfortable bed covered in silky white sheets, but it wasn't hers. In fact, it looked like she was in a room that wasn't hers. Not even close, though she couldn't picture what her room actually looked like. She shook her head and tried to remember something, anything, but she couldn't. She couldn't even remember what happened last night; much less her own name. She looked around the room. It looked like a hotel room with two beds, a small desk, a dark wooden closet, a large TV, and a small, cramped bathroom.

The room seemed empty except for her and a lump lying next to her. She leaned over to get a better look at this lump. It wasn't a lump at all, it was a boy? He looked about her age, whatever that was. Eighteen, she thought to herself, I have to be about eighteen. She took a closer look at the boy. His face was almost perfectly sculpted and he had muscles on his arms that you could see clearly, even as he was sleeping. He was beautiful, stunning actually, but the main thing she noticed was that he wasn't wearing a shirt. The realization of this gave her a slight panic. She lifted up the blanket. He was wearing pants, "Oh thank God," She whispered allowed. The boy stirred, but didn't wake up. She sat still for a moment, trying to remember where she was, who this boy could be and how she could have possibly ended up here. After a moment she walked to the mirror to get a better look at herself. Her dark eyes matched her long brown hair which was in a tangled nest. She wore a muddy floral dress which had been shredded in some places and scorched in others. She looked like a complete mess. What could have possibly happened last night? There was movement in the bed and she turned to look. The boy sat up, yawned and casually threw on a shirt which had been laying on a nearby chair. She stood pressed against the cool mirror, waiting to see what he would do next. When he saw her against the mirror he smiled. He walked over to her and kissed her on the cheek. She flinched.

"What's the matter, Trinity?" He took a step back and looked over her. She didn't know what to do, so she just stood as still as possible. His green eyes sparkled with concern as he said, "You don't look hurt. Is something wrong? Are you not feeling well?" He ran his hand gently over her forehead, feeling for her temperature, "You look terrified." His whole face was lit up with worry as he held her at arm's length and looked her over again.

She decided it was her turn to speak, "Trinity?" She asked. Her voice raspy, hardly more than a whisper. She recognized the name, but didn't know from where.

"Yeah," The boy replied plainly, "That's your name. It hasn't changed in seventeen years." He gave a slight chuckle at his remark, but seeing the look on her face made his laugh die in his throat. "You don't remember anything, do you?" He let go of her arms and took a step back to sit on the edge of the bed. He turned pale. She shook her head 'no'. He looked to the floor and took a deep breath, "Do you want to know?" He asked, still looking at the floor.

"Yes," she whispered this in a way that was barely audible.

When he looked at her again, the look in his eyes made her wonder if she should reconsider her decision. "I am Takeo of Martialis, I am and have been your protector since birth." Trinity's eyes went wide. Protector? Why do I need a protector? she asked herself. As if the boy heard her thoughts he replied, "You are Trinity, princess of Zazalon and the last of your kind."

"My kind?" Trinity asked. She wasn't buying any of this. As of a few minutes ago she was a fairly normal girl in a strange hotel room with a boy. Any situation could have explained that, but it certainly could not be this.

His eyes gleamed slightly and his lips turned up into a pitiful smile as he said, "Last of the shapeshifters."