ਏਓ
Ante
The Heptagon, the ruling shape of seven, now the grounds of a deadly massacre, the cobble halls now too small to hold a thousand souls, whimpering, wailing, screaming.
She stood within three miles of the Heptagon's rocky exterior at the edge of a great cliff, the moon casting her cold glare upon the naked spectator, struggling to reflect of off the blood that once glistened, now crusted and crumbling.
The natural world shuddered, birds flew in all directions in groups of three on account of the sudden adjustment of the trees as they twisted to look at the woman on the cliff, as they dared to admire her.
She was then exactly what the Essence had intended her to be, a means for an end, a great cleansing, but not just of her own world, of others belonging to the same creator.
Only for that moment was she all powerful.
A survivor of the massacre, a vengeful spirit, spiteful, unrelenting, followed the woman as a member of the shadows from the Heptagon to the cliff and here, he saw his opportunity.
The moon, in all her motherly presence looked upon the woman and her attacker, she did not blink or think to warn her child and she was sad to do so, but it was what was best.
Who would've thought that a direct child of the Essence could be so easily beaten by one greatly descended?
She fell.
She did not die.
The Essence swallowed her before she could collide with the ground, and while it nurtured her wounds in the soil, it devoured her memories just as the maggots did to the rotten skin, except, the Essence promised to feed them back to her.
☾
Perhaps it let her sleep for too long.
When the soil parted itself to reveal her to the world, a great multitude of years had passed. At this time, Nethilor was no longer at war with other Faie nations and had turned their hatred towards a greater evil. A plague. A creature that grew in the absence of power and absorbed any last remnants it could find of it.
The Essence fuelled all of Nethilor and the Faie that grew from its land, but it had been declining in strength since the birth of Winona, she was the last of the line of Purus Liberi and with her title she took all but a few scraps of the Great Mother's power. She could no longer provide the earth with an unnatural perfectness, nor could she provide abilities even half as powerful as the previous generation.
The nation was suffering, and the Essence was finally finished perfecting her prodigy, her solution.
YOU ARE READING
Unruly
ФэнтезиThe Essence created the lands to protect her children, no matter how pure or impure they may have been, she loved them all. But as the nations developed, they turned on each other in ways that she could not have imagined, so many deaths resulted in...
