Divine Ascension

Chapter 2 - The Great War

Many years had passed, swift as the Autumn wind. Many years, which were full of sadness and longing for a childhood that had never truly existed, but also much, much more. Melinda had gone through a lot, more than most ordinary people could even imagine, let alone do. But she was not like other people in any way, a fact which she knew very well, and which always hanged over her head like a harbringer of hope, but also doom. 

Thirty-four years of living in a wartorn country such as Obscuria meant that Melinda couldn't forget anything about her life, no matter how hard she tried. While other children were playing and having fun any way they could, she trained to reach her true potential, though she had a life, too. She too had dreams and passions and interests the way other people did, and was wont to express that far more than anything that reminded her of the Obscurian Field Of Magic.

Still, she was nothing if not dedicated to helping protect her country. From day one, Olivia was impressed with her talent and progress and willingness to learn new things and adapt to the circumstances, no matter how dire, and it hardly ever waned or vanished. She had defended her lands against many threats and fought in many wars, always in the forefront, her mere name a warning to anyone who dared challenge her. She was Melinda Josephine Grey, the warrior of stars and shadow, the herald of fate and giver of ruin.

And so she became the hero of the glorious realm known as Obscuria, renowned in myths and legends. Bards sang and scribes wrote of her battles, villages and towns called for aid, knowing that she would answer, and even the Belleroses, also known as the royal family saw her as one of their own. People were honoured to be her friends and desired her hand - some more confidently than others, of course. She loved to be in the company of other people, different as she was from them, knowing that there was more important than cultivating healthy and happy relationships with those different from oneself, especially those who knew the beauty of mundanity and the joy of a peaceful life, both things she feared she might someday forget.

Where other heroes might be tempted to bask in their fame and rake in their gold, Melinda wasn't so openly fond of the spotlight, and not out of false modesty, either. She preferred a more demure, uninvolved way of living. She lived in a little pink house that, although pretty, was nothing special, and liked gardening and reading and embroidering more than hearing about the importance of her accomplishments for the thousandth time. After all, she did it all out of altruism, not out of arrogance. In fact, she had been planning to retire for a while because an age of peace had come, and she supposed that she could step in sometimes if there was enough trouble, but she didn't believe there would be much need to do so.

However, it looked like Fate wasn't willing to be so kind to her. With the rise of a formidable sorcerer called Patrick Hemingway, the age of peace and prosperity had abruptly halted. He had been a danger to Obscuria and the world at large for numerous years, but a couple of years beforehand, it seemed to have been his end, but he'd always been there, watching, waiting, lurking after Melinda like a predator after his prey. The damage he'd caused was in no way small, bringing countless beloved institutions into ruin, dividing a nation into several frantic warring factions, corrupting the minds of all those who got close to him and killing plenty of plants and wild animals and even children with his horrible fire. This all was the start of a great war.

Melinda was contemplating all of this while tending to her roses, sorrow very much weighing down her heart. Red and white and pink and yellow, the roses immediately caught the eye of anyone who stepped into the garden, blossoming beautifully and without any obstacles, their grace and elegance usually her pride, warming her heart, but now cold and distant, taunting her with all the happiness that had been stolen from her and her people. Even the sunset, beautiful as it was, only reminded her of the passage of time and the destined disappearance of all the wonders of the world. It all brought a tear to her face.