London. December 10, 1327
Just outside of town, near the rivers of Thames, an unfortunate couple took shelter in a small, abandoned cabin. It was already late and there was nowhere else to go. “Saito! I can’t hold it any longer!” The pregnant woman cried as she leaned against the walls, and slowly sat down on the floor. The young man knelt beside her and held her hand, “I’m here, Mary.” He said assuring her. But it wasn’t that easy. The heavens roared with thunder as the rain poured heavy and the winds blew strong as if the house was going to collapse on them. “Have the gods no mercy?!” Saito cried out, helpless.
Mary groaned in pain, lying on the floor pushing on her feet. Saito gave Mary his small towel for her to grip on as he went between her knees and held it in place. “That’s it Mary! Almost there!” The winter breeze blew colder and stronger; the windows bashed shut as if the gods forbid their child’s welcoming.
After a long, loud cry of agony, Mary closed her eyes, catching her breath. In Thomas’ arms, he held a little baby girl. The child could barely open her eyes; she was pale but breathing. Her skin was as cold as the winter snow.
Heaven was silenced and the rain stopped as the young mother took her first glance at her baby and cradled her in her arms. The sudden calm in the atmosphere made the couple feel a different kind of comfort; as if everything was at peace. Saito caught a glimpse of a fading light from outside the cabin and peeked from the window. There stood a little boy wearing a red cloak, drench from the rain, peeking through the door. But as he opened it to let him in, the boy was no longer there.
The air was even calmer than before. The night was serene and nothing but the sound of the water flowing from the river, graced through the breeze. Saito returned to his family and gazed upon his newborn child. As his eyes met her innocence, he softly said, “Ayashi…”
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Ayashi was brought into the world weak, sickly and dying. Her family didn’t have enough money to pay for her treatment and only had enough to get through each day, so her father joined the war to sustain them. By the time Aya reached the age of seven, her father died in battle.
The girl grew up into a beautiful young maiden with wavy, dark brown hair, purple eyes and rosy pink lips, in the loving arms of her mother. Aya tried to live a normal life despite the fact that every year she became more and more ill.
At the age of 18, Aya died.
But her mother, Mary, could not accept the truth and was determine to do everything she could, just to bring her daughter back. Familiar with the deities of the rivers, the desperate mother went back to where she gave birth to her beloved Aya. It was just like the night when she and her husband fought through the raging storm. She took shelter once more as the old cabin still stood – some of the wood on the walls had already broken over the years. But nothing could stop her from reviving her daughter. There, she cut out Aya’s heart and tossed it into the river as a sign of offering to the gods. She prayed for days, struggling through the storms but got no answers.
War was upon heaven and hell just as it was on earth’s mortals. The deities were fighting the demons, defending the light of the earth from the grasp of darkness. The battle caused chaos all throughout the land. Darkness was at the peak of war, closing in on its victory. Earth began to rot; the catastrophe became too great to be hidden, and it started to show and cause a grave effect on the humans, killing millions as the Black Plague struck.
Helpless, Athena, the goddess of wisdom, took shelter at the cabin and saw the mother mourning over her lifeless daughter. The goddess took pity and had come up with a plan. She gathered the gods and all agreed to let Aya live, on one condition.
