ichor of gods, hp

introduction, prophecy's child

                                       A child of prophecy.
            A child of prophecy would either be the greatest asset to mankind or die trying to be. These children were rare. Born with the sole purpose to fulfill their assigned prophecies and these prophecies were a death wish. Crafted and made by sickening sires and forced upon children before they were even born. The poor souls, cursed by the fates to forever achieve something usually unachievable were pitied by the community of those who knew. Witches and wizards cried for their unborn once they were so-called gifted with the honorable responsibility of it. Children of prophecy were labeled as dangerous and pitied. Those were the words of every witch and wizard wise enough to know the true dangers of a child of prophecy.

          There was one child who was made to be different. She was cursed by the fates yet blessed by the graces of the gods who's blood ran through her very own veins from the minute she was born. This girl was the child of the oldest and most known prophecy, spoken by the great queen of Wizarding Europe at the time, Queen Eve Pendragon. Her tears spilled for her descendant that would be cursed by the words that unwillingly flowed from her mouth, sealing the child's fate in the laws of mother magic.

             Her family was cursed by the blood that followed. Each generation seeing the blood of their very own spilled unmercifully by the ones that feared her becoming. Their names were erased in fear of news and yet she was born. Violet was born out of desperation, the last of the bloodline and sole heir of the imperial line married, perhaps it was out of love seeing as they were school sweethearts but their fast paced engagement and conceivement was all out of duty.

                                          Aerae was gifted.
          She was graced by the gods with their blood and cursed by the fates to suffer an unbearingly tragic life from the minute she was born. Disasters of the past haunted her until her rule was brought forth and even then, Aerea would never rest.
Chaos would follow her around, closer than death did because he knew he had to keep distance but chaos didn't. The daughter of chaos herself, how could he possibly resist? So he followed her like a lost puppy while death became her shadow and the fates became the damned scars that littered her soul.

       Aerae was a child of prophecy; the child of chaos and the plaything of the fates as well as the blessed blood of the gods. My oh my, was she a force to be reckoned with. May whoever lives long enough to see her reign be blessed by the fates themselves, for when that day comes, she will be the one to light that
                                                                gods be damned prophecy
                                                       as well as
                                                                                                                                            the world on fire
        with her own two
                                                                                                hands.

                                           the myth

         Long ago, during the reign of the gods and long before humanity had reached its current power, part of the world was ruled by mythical creatures and gods. Hecate, the goddess of magic had blessed a part of humanity with gifts. The goddess had expected that her children of magic would become the helpers of the human race but instead they were shunned and hunted. Fearing for the death of the mages who remained, Hecate decided that their two worlds weren't to meet, concealing the existence of her children for the rest of humanity.

        Hundreds of years down the line, chaos befell on her children. They fought against each other, blood of the magic staining their history. As a last resort, she had sought out Eythora, the mother of dragons. Eythora, feeling pity for the goddess, granted Hecate three of her own children. Together with the bloodlines they had chosen as their companions, three imperial houses were founded. They ruled over their continents with grace, even long after their true companions were nothing but bones and memories.