Bleak Hearts
- Reads 186
- Votes 54
- Parts 13
Complete Thu, Jun 27, 201952m
Russia... that is where everything started. The perfect snow in winter, the perfect house that kept you warm and cosy, and for Octavia Zorina Radmilla it was the only real home she had even known. She was only sixteen but in 1784 many people were already wed or soon to be, Octavia was one of those soon to be types. A humble rock upon her finger, looping her pale skinned ring finger, with some sort of gold plated metal. Octavia Milo. The name didn't quite seem to fit but what is a name other than a way to identify a body. She would wear the name with pride, knowing she would be the talk of the town for marrying Spyder Dragan Milo. A dark soul, or so it appeared. Ever since the boy had been born something hung over his head like a shadow but that is what made him so wonderful to young Octavia.
A curse, a curse with no rules, or at least rules that always changed. No matter how hard the two teens tried, there seemed to be no loopholes. We won't start at the beginning, that won't make sense, at least not this time. Spyder and Octavia were doomed to be this way, living life after life trying to find one another but every time they remembered who they were, they would die... or at least one of them would, leaving the other two options, to continue until their next life cycle or to end it and try again. Of course it is never that simple. Especially when someone keeps changing the rules. The only stable thing they knew, was that they will always remember before they die, whoever had died first the previous life, would be the first to remember. and they would always find each other. No matter how long it took.
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Due to the century-long war between the two kingdoms, a fragile peace has been upheld for the past ten years through a grim ritual: each year, five elves from the kingdom of Umori and five from Pfisma are sent to a desolate island known as the "Land of the Dead." Once a wasteland of stone and sand, the island is now overrun by deadly beasts and monstrous exiles-criminals who were banished from both realms. Those who survived learned things far darker than crime itself. On that cursed island, the only law is: kill or be killed. This year, Zephyr, desperate to escape his kingdom, secretly boarded the ship bound for the Land of the Dead, joining four other common elves chosen for the ritual. It was a sacrifice to the God of Death, a tribute that had been paid annually for a decade. Hydra, his dragon, followed him from the skies above, through the treacherous sea passage known as the Gates of Hell. Zephyr whispered to himself over and over: Just survive. Make it through. Cross to Umori. Find a better life. Once his father-the king-realized where he had gone, he would believe his only heir was dead. He would lose both his son and the future of his kingdom. ⸻ Herena had always opposed the sacrificial rite. She believed no offering should be required, but she could not ignore the truth: those five lives given each year saved millions more. Millions who would have otherwise perished in war. Still, this year was different. This year, Herena was taken. Abducted from her own palace, her chambers, her very bed-forced onto the ship sailing straight toward the Land of the Dead. Yet she was not afraid. Not because she was brave-but because, deep down, she had always wanted to end the tribute. And maybe... just maybe... this was the only way to do it.
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