𝓟𝓻𝓪𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓪 - (𝓟.𝓙𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓸𝓷)

prelude

➵ prelude ➵

A child runs, blood mixing with the tears that slowly transcend down her face.
Her feet barely grace the forest floor, dancing over roots and travelling at a pace far from normal.

She doesn't know where she's going, and yet she continues, steadily guided by the hand of fate.
At each twist and bend, she doesn't falter; no fork is too decisive.

A stained bronze sword hangs loosely at her side, flailing throughout the rapid movements.

She travels until she feels a tug—an invisible force holding her back.
She stills. Simply watching. Waiting.

Sounds reverberate throughout the clearing, but they don't frighten her.
The echoing of crunching leaves grows closer, twigs snapping under light footsteps.

A bow and a notched arrow are the first to emerge from the foliage, followed by the focused face of a girl. A girl frozen in time.
She takes cautious steps, carefully watching the small figure in front of her.

The child cannot be more than six years old and stands deadly still, eyes closed, body doused in red.

Dropping her weapon, the girl moves steadily forward before crouching on the floor in front of the child's face.
The girl gasps as her eyelids open, revealing molten gold irises.
Child of the sun.

More figures emerge in the clearing.
"Zoë?" the girl is called cautiously.
She turns. "Sisters. I believe we have found her." Quiet murmurs fill the air.

"Child. What is your name?" Zöe asks.
"Helia." Sun.
They face each other. Brown meets gold. Gold that mourns the death of her mother. Gold that is now alone in the world.

"Your last name, Helia?"
"Kyrillos." The child utters.

Kyrillos.
Kyrillos.
Kyrillos.
Kin of Heroes.

Stillness descends. Bated breaths are held.

Zoë turns, expression definite.
"Descendent of Aristos Achaion, child of the sun... The prophecy has begun."