"In a world of magic and sorcery, an entity beyond comprehension gazed upon its magnificent creation—the universe itself—only to watch it teeter on the brink of self-destruction. Desperate to save what it had so lovingly crafted, the being made the ultimate sacrifice: its own life.
From this profound act of love and loss sprang the fabric of existence itself—Good and Evil, Light and Dark, Void and Space, Time and Infinity. These forces, infused with the lifeblood of the immortal creator, manifested as sentient beings of immense power.
They came to be known as the Gods, custodians of creation and shapers of destiny."
Within the grand halls of the Palace of Ethel, a chamber more resplendent than any mortal mind could dream lay bathed in the silver light of the moon.
The high ceilings arched like the heavens themselves, adorned with gilded carvings of ancient tales—of battles waged among gods, of the birth of stars, and of the first mortal empires.
Massive columns, crafted from pristine white marble veined with gold, lined the walls, their surfaces glowing faintly in the moonlight. The air was scented faintly with jasmine and myrrh, a fragrance designed to soothe and inspire dreams.
Draperies of emerald silk embroidered with silver constellations cascaded from the towering windows, stirring gently in the cool night breeze. The floor beneath her feet shimmered like glass, reflecting the moonlight in rippling patterns that resembled a starlit sea.
At the heart of the chamber stood the prince's bed, a masterpiece of craftsmanship.
The posts were sculpted from dark mahogany, carved into the shapes of intertwined dragons and phoenixes, their eyes studded with rubies and sapphires that seemed to glimmer as if alive. The canopy above was woven from threads of starlight and shadow, an enchantment that seemed to shimmer with time itself.
A woman's voice resounded in the room, laced with a deathly desperation, her golden hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, hugging her curves, a true work of art, her shimmering hair spread on the bed, making it a work of art that would rile up the blood of anything that breathes. Her form seemed to hum along with the shimmer of her hair catching the light of the moon as though it had been spun from its very rays.
Her green dress clung to her form like a second skin, the fabric glistening with an almost otherworldly sheen, as though imbued with the essence of nature itself.
The moonlight caressed her face, highlighting the sharp elegance of her features and the luminous quality of her sapphire eyes, which seemed to reflect the vastness of the night sky. She appeared more ethereal than human, a vision of beauty that seemed woven from the same threads of magic that shaped the world outside.
A soft breath attracts her undivided attention, a faint smile drawn on her ethereal beauty as she turns to look at her baby, admiring the beauty before her. The prince of Ethel, the future king of the Great Empire. His dark hair spilled across the silken pillows, framing a face so striking it seemed carved by the gods themselves, a testament to the strong genes of his father, The Mad King -A man whose power causes jealousy among the gods. He is the current ruler of Ethel, a small country in the continent of Aeria. A vast continent filled with the strong, and among the strong stands Bruno, the Mad King. Even tho he could rule the continent itself, he decided to settle down in his home country to give his people freedom and peace.
The peace would have remained only if... The child of Calamity. The child before her.... Her hands trembled as they brushed against his smooth cheek, her touch so light it was almost imperceptible. Slowly, her fingers trailed downward, pausing at his chin before coming to rest on his neck. A cold glint shone in her eyes, filled with confusion and uncertainty. Her child bore the mark of calamity as long as she kept him alive; the world was destined to be destroyed—the mark of calamity, a mark that causes gods to shiver. But now, one of the strongest beings to exist had one. What would they be able to do? They would have to wait until the collector came. A being born to devour the bearers of the mark, those who are known as the balance of the universe. If that happened, would Bruno be able to stand against such an entity? The gods, though fearful, watched with a hint of excitement.
The queen knew the implications of what had happened, frustration evident on her face. She would do everything for her husband, her country, and her Goddess, but was it worth her child? Would she have to sacrifice her child after all she has given? She bit her supple lips in frustration, causing her lips to swell.
Mist-- a slow, black, ashen mist began to stir within the room. A shadow passed over her face as her grip tightened, tears spilling down her cheeks like streams of molten silver. Her breath caught in her throat, her body trembling with the force of her anguish. The sky was painted with a pint of crimson. Crimson threads lined her frustrated face.
What am I doing? she thought, horrified. This is my son. My beloved child. I cannot— I will not ---
She recoiled suddenly, gasping on the bed, as though she had awoken from a nightmare. Her hands were on her chest, dancing with the alluring rhythm within her. Her gaze turned toward the window, where the moon hung high in the sky. Subtle crimson threads painted the sky. The radiant glow of unmixed crimson blue light casts an ethereal light over the room.
It seemed to watch her, silent and eternal at the same time, threatening and dangerous.
"O Goddess Alea of the Moon," she whispered, her voice trembling like a leaf caught in a storm, hoping her prayer would penetrate the heart of the moon goddess. One who would answer the call of her devoted priestess. Alas, nothing, not even a breath from her. When her priestess, who needed her the most, asked, she wasn't there. Anger whelmed within her, rage, pure blasphemous rage. After all I sacrificed for her, she rejected me???!!!!!. Before she could continue. The black Ashen mist began to circle her, creating a whirlpool. From the darkness of the room's farthest corner, a figure emerged—a silhouette cloaked in shadow, its form humanoid with the form of a knight, beautiful and assuring yet unearthly and eerie.
The folds of its cloak seemed to absorb the light, and its glowing white eyes pierced the gloom, flickering between the queen and her sleeping son.
"My queen," the knight-looking creature intoned, its voice low and resonant, as though echoing from a place beyond time, the ashen mist whirling around him moving at his every whim.
"It's time. The king has made his verdict," he said, his eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
"Do you think he would spare him?" she asked, fear evident in her voice as she slid her legs down the edges of the bed, swinging them wantingly. The shadow stood at her side of the bed, stretching out his hands to aid her. She smiled sweetly as she placed her hand on his, standing up gracefully from the bed. She took one last look at the moon before turning back, led out by the shadow knight. As she reached the edge of the room, the golden, glistening door opened, revealing a corridor bathed in darkness, inviting her in. The queen took a step into the corridor, the golden door that housed her happiness behind them.
Within the pristine palace room, where the prince of Ethel slept, moonlight shimmered, glowing with an intensity one wouldn't be able to bear. A white whirl of wind surrounded the sleeping prince as he let out a soft, touching laugh.