Bound By Fate

The Curse of Truth

The grand hallway of Sora, usually glowing with divine serenity, now echoed with tension. Becky Armstrong stood in the center, her head bowed, while another woman—identical to her—stood opposite her, her expression defiant. Almighty, the ultimate authority of Sora, observed the scene with confusion etched upon his divine visage.

Goddess Wanviva sat on her elevated throne, her eyes narrowed as they bore into Becky. She felt a dark energy radiating from her, an energy that was faint but undeniable. Her instincts, honed over centuries, screamed that Becky was a being of the dark.

Wanviva’s voice was cold and sharp. “This cannot go unaddressed. The dark forces have infiltrated Sora before, and I will not allow it to happen again. You, girl, claim to be Becky Armstrong, yet your silence betrays your guilt. Speak! Defend yourself if you are who you claim to be.”

Becky remained silent. Her hands trembled as she clenched them at her sides. She could feel the weight of Wanviva’s gaze, the mistrust in the air, and the unbearable truth that she could no longer hide.

“Your silence is an admission of guilt,” Wanviva continued, her voice rising. “If you are truly from Sora, prove it! Tell us your truth, or face the consequences of deceit.”

Freen, standing beside Becky, shifted uncomfortably. She wanted to speak, to defend the woman she loved, but Wanviva’s imposing presence and unwavering conviction silenced her.

The other girl, the one claiming to be the real Becky, smirked and stepped forward. “Goddess Wanviva, I warned you about her. She’s been pretending all this time. She came from the depths of Kira, a spy sent to betray us. I am the true Becky Armstrong. This impostor has fooled even Goddess Freen!”

Freen’s fists clenched, her nails digging into her palms as anger bubbled inside her. But she held her tongue, her heart pounding with fear and uncertainty.

Almighty raised a hand, silencing the arguments momentarily. “Enough. This situation requires clarity, not chaos. Becky Armstrong, you have been accused of being from the dark forces of Kira. Do you have anything to say in your defense?”

Becky looked up, her eyes meeting Almighty’s for a fleeting moment before falling again. Her voice was barely above a whisper. “I… I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Wanviva’s gaze hardened. “That is all I needed to hear. You cannot even confirm your own identity. I will not risk the safety of Sora for a stranger shrouded in shadows.”

The hall fell silent as Wanviva rose from her throne, her presence towering and commanding. “You are a danger to Sora. Whether you are a spy or simply a pawn of Kira, it matters not. I sentence you to be cast out of this realm. You will be born as a human, stripped of your divine essence, and sent to live among mortals. Your life will be one of suffering, your existence a penance for the deception you brought into Sora.”

“NO!”

Freen’s voice rang out, trembling with desperation. She stepped forward, her hands raised in plea. “Goddess Wanviva, you are wrong! She is the real Becky Armstrong, but she is not a dark force! She was taken from us as a child, stolen by Kira to be used against us. She was innocent then, and she is innocent now.”

Wanviva hesitated, her stern expression faltering. “What do you mean?”

Freen’s voice broke as she explained. “The forces of Kira kidnapped her when she was just a child. They raised her in darkness, hoping to one day send her back as a weapon against us. But Becky… she’s not one of them. She was brought up in shadows, but her heart remains pure. She didn’t choose this life. Please, Goddess, don’t punish her for what she had no control over.”

Becky’s knees gave way as she collapsed to the floor, her breaths shallow. The weight of Freen’s words crashed into her like a tidal wave. “I… I didn’t know,” Becky whispered, tears streaming down her face. “All this time, I thought I was one of them. But if what you say is true, then… who am I?”

Wanviva’s stern facade cracked as guilt washed over her. “I… I didn’t know. Freen, I acted hastily.”

Freen knelt beside Becky, her voice trembling with emotion. “Please, Goddess Wanviva. Take the curse back. I beg you.”

Wanviva’s eyes filled with sorrow, but she shook her head. “Once a curse is cast, it cannot be undone. I am sorry, Freen.”

Freen’s tears fell freely now, and as each tear hit the floor, flames erupted, scorching the marble beneath them. Her voice was raw with anguish. “I love her… I love her with all my heart. Please, there must be another way!”

Wanviva’s own eyes filled with tears, memories of her lost love surfacing. She saw herself in Freen—desperate, broken, and helpless. “I… I am sorry, Freen. I truly am.”

Becky, despite the pain and confusion tearing through her, pulled Freen into a tight embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For loving me, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Freen sobbed into Becky’s shoulder, holding her as tightly as she could, as if she could stop her from slipping away. But it was futile. Becky’s form began to shimmer, her body dissolving into light.

“I love you,” Becky said softly, her voice fading as she disappeared.

The girl who had impersonated Becky screamed as her own form vanished into thin air—a spirit banished back to Kira for her failure.

Sora, once vibrant and filled with light, now mourned the loss of Becky Armstrong. The skies darkened, and a heavy silence fell upon the realm. Freen and Wanviva both wept, their grief echoing through the heavens.

In that moment, even Almighty bowed his head, for the loss of love, truth, and innocence is a sorrow that spares no one.

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