"For the birth of the shattered disciple shall be celebrated, marked and commemorated by the priestesses and messengers of the world," the prophet spoke, his words coming out in a voice not his own. "On this day will be the day our reflections correct, and our future will be ensured as worshippers of the Deity."
The words resounded throughout the church, echoing in the mouths of those in the pews. Hymns were sang, and wine was drank. The people of Animae feasted, dining on pigs and cattle fattened up for the coming winter. Butchered were the last of their doubts, left to shrivel and die in the frost which soon encapsulated the First Nation.
Thus began the falsehoods of glass.
Thus began the birth of truth.
Thus began the murder of reflection.
And thus began the life of three children born into this.
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Author's note:
Hello! You can just call me Shark or Blåhaj or IKEA or KEA or something similar, whatever you think of! I'm in middle school for all you Americans, and currently thirteen and using a hand-me-down iPhone 8 to write this garbage story! I'm open to criticism or suggestions or ideas or anything anyone else recommends, as this is my first real story!! All my love to anyone reading :)
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The Falsehoods of Glass
FantasyIn the world of Animae, there is no hell quite like that of the city of Pervorsitas. The bends, the twists, the ever-changing landscape... the inconsistencies can be lethal. Why not navigate it through the eyes of a group of ragtag teenagers?
