𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨 | 𝐂𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬

𝟎.𝐈

Almost a lifetime ago, he had a name; Ejicio.

Cast out.

He had been given that name due to the light he seemed to emit just by smiling, filling everybody's hearts with joy. Once upon a time, he had been said to cast out negativity, now, he was the one who was cast out. He wandered on broken lands like a malignant curse and roamed swampy waters for years upon years—in the real world it was a mere thirteen, but within the Fae Realm, it was hundreds upon thousands of years.

During those years he'd been forgotten, completely assimilated with the rest of the fleeting existence of humanity within the unpredictable and fickle thing that was the Fae flow of time. He'd kept grasping at the few things that could keep him sane but they always slipped out of his hold, tumbling down the endless well of reality, never to be found again.

He'd felt his entire being be pulled and prodded like an extrinsic creature which didn't belong in its dwelling, his mentality stretching over what seemed like millennia of inexplicable bewilderment. Everything he loved became null, all of his sorrow dissipated, anger lurked, and disgust permeated. But there was one thing he could cling to and use as an anchor as time flowed and passed.

Hate.

Though he held onto that persisting feeling, he didn't have anything could have hated anymore—nothing else mattered, and he no longer remembered anyone. Everything he'd lived in his life felt ephemeral and inconsequential compared to the centuries he'd been alone and lost, facing peril at every corner and escaping death only to live on in fear for unbearable years. He didn't have anything, but there was someone he acutely remembered, a girl who was his exact copy, only distinguished by the different colouring of her eyes and her talent for words.

A young girl who was said to have been born to be a poetess--his sister.

And for the sake of survival, he began to resent his sister. That was, until—slowly, as time passed—he began to abhor her so deeply that he swore to himself that one day, beyond the endless days of eternity, he would kill her.

During the years he had remained trapped beyond respite, he hadn't become a Faerie, but even so, he had become no longer human. He didn't even try to give himself a name, a title. He whispered the one that had showered him with light for days and for years until the name embodied him in a completely new way—Ejicio.

Reject.

For years, he had roamed until one day, he found a tear in the realm he had been trapped in. At that moment he felt centuries and millennia of sheer persistence rush through him and he escaped into the deep, dark night. From then on, a part of himself roamed the empty and foreboding forest that had ground atop the soil of his former country. During the night, he wandered among the sleeping wildlife, slowly seeping the life coming from it, yet, every morning, it was renewed.

Nevertheless, he waited impatiently, waiting for his sister each night. Not long afterwards, he found her—her hair had been blonde and her skin tone so much lighter that it bordered on pale but he could tell from a mile away. A grin had crept on his face. There she was—his twin sister.

Maestra Sliens.