Somewhere on the Endless Sea.
The Border Mist materialized abruptly, shrouding the once calm and grey expanse of the sea. The impenetrable veil of white mist lingered persistently, its undulations akin to a living organism, before eventually receding and vanishing, erasing its existence entirely. In the space that had been occupied solely by the sea's surface, an island emerged, boasting a serene town and a grandiose gothic palace that appeared to cast a watchful gaze upon the city.
As the mist traversed the streets, it gradually unveiled the picturesque Victorian-style city. Dim street lamps cast a faint glow upon the cobblestones, revealing numerous statues of varied sizes, shapes, and race. These statues all shared a common trait-they were oriented toward the Gothic palace.
Within the opulent throne room stood a resplendent seat of power. Positioned before the throne were additional statues, all bowing in deference to the statue of the Ruler seated upon it. Draped in a cloak, the Ruler exuded an eerie and oppressive aura, even in statue form. Silence permeated the room; no motion, life, or breath stirred.
Unexpectedly, the eyes of the Ruler's statue ignited with cerulean flames.
'Ah... what... what's...' Caila pondered as her vision cleared, the memory of darkness faintly lingering.
Surveying the hushed hall, she beheld eerie statues bent in obeisance. 'What happened? Ugh... why... why can't I move?' Caila found herself immobilized; only her eyes retained mobility. She strained her gaze downward, catching a glimpse of her hands resting on the throne's armrests. 'Am I a statue? Wha... what? No! Help! Someone, save me!' Internally, she shrieked in panic, met only by an overwhelming silence.
"Kill..." the low whispering voice trailed off into my head. I don't think the strange whispering voice came from anyone in the room. It was too loud; too abnormel; too deadly. Suddenly a cold shiver ran down my back making me scream and cry out for someone, something, anything. I want to be alone, somwhere dark, somewhere safe. My eyes open to see a woman cradling me in her arms. A man with red eyes, tan skin, and blonde hair starred at me. His eyes sunk into my head making me wince. The woman is natuarlly warm and comfortable, but her face is stained with tears mixed with blood on her, once beautiful, face. She smeared some of the blood onto my puffy cheeks with a warm beaten and calloused hand.
"You're gonna be okay," she assured me. More tears fell from her eyes. I looked closer into her grayish, I think, eyes. They had evil tucked beneath fear in them. I don't know what she means, yet her words mean the world to me at this very moment: 4 minutes ago, I was born.