An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Enenel found himself in a void of emerald clouds and fluttering golden flames that swam through the skies like lofty, divine entities. They roared and rumbled, as if announcing their majesty to the world, but the emerald clouds remained free-flowing, like a vast sea of green, unamused by the display of power above. There seemed to be a silent conflict between the two forces, but Enenel could not pinpoint why it was.

It looked like an ancient spectacle of might, yet there was nothing conclusive about it... it was all beyond his scope of thinking; why would ancient forces behave like toddlers?

At the center of it all, a towering gate stood, stretching between the heavens and whatever lay beneath this realm. He could not see its entirety, and yet, he felt as if he could encompass it all within his gaze.

The gate was composed of two monumental doors. The one to the right was a regal imperial sight of gold, radiating intense heat and a blinding light. The first door he saw—one he expected—was the legacy and bloodline of his father, the Emperor, and the ones that came before him.

It was a magnificent construct, exuding an ancient and overwhelming aura of majesty and imperial dominance. Everything about it screamed royalty. It gleamed with a fierce golden sheen, as if seeking to impose itself upon all who beheld it.

Was it made of golden glass? Or crystal? He could not tell.

Engraved upon its surface was the tale of the empire's founding, the feats of its emperors, and the legacies of all who carried the blood of flame and light. The names of those who had carved their mark upon realms and worlds were inscribed into its gilded form.

These were his ancestors. And though many of them still lived, they might as well have been dead—for every five hundred years, a new generation of the bloodline emerged, while the previous one was swept away like dust in the wind, never to be heard from again.

But this was not on his mind.

His gaze shifted to the door on the left. It was made of cool, immovable emerald, reminiscent of mineral stone from the real world. Even from a distance, he could feel its chilling touch. Its presence was muted, almost forgettable, unlike the other legacy that demanded attention.

Yet, despite its silence, this one held a depth unlike anything he had ever known. A depth he had overlooked once he became crown prince. A depth so prevalent in his mother's gaze that only he seemed to notice—even his royal father remained oblivious, though he hardly spent time with them to notice anything at all.

The emerald gate emanated a fire-chill colder than anything he could comprehend. It gripped his heart with an unrelenting constriction, demanding his attention in the most ruthless way imaginable.

Even if the heavens fell, the emerald would not crumble.

What this meant for him, he did not understand. There were records detailing the process of awakening, but they were vague at best. Existence itself would not allow such truths to be written.

The door was equal in size to the golden one, matching its grandeur and presence in perfect synchrony. But he felt as though it was merely a facade—a disguise of some sort.

It was composed of jade and emerald, resplendent yet subdued.

It was like a ruthless assassin draped in gold and adorned with the finest jewels—enchanting to behold, but beneath that resplendence lurked a heart of pure cruelty.

This was the feeling he got from this legacy.

And the only conclusion he could draw was that it came from his mother.

Yet, what he saw before him today made him reevaluate his mother. It seemed there was far more hidden beneath the mask she wore.

The truth of awakening was shrouded in vagueness, leaving all who entered it blind to what awaited them. The only certainty was the existence of the nine known trials—obstacles one had to overcome over the course of their life to draw forth more of their legacy's power.

So the sight before him baffled him for many reasons.

He looked at this phenomenon, and sadness welled in his heart.

It seemed his father was not yet ready to acknowledge him as his son, even when he was to be the next emperor.

Why he thought that, even he did not know... he just felt it, the legacy here felt incomplete; the intent was obligatory at best, with none of the love and care for him, the son.

Shaking off his thoughts, he turned his focus back to the sight before him. It was magnificent.

Right now, his only concern was passing the legacy trials, proving himself worthy of the lineage of royalty—the lineage of flame and light.

But just as he was contemplating how to begin the trial, something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

Something slithered through the emerald clouds.

His gaze snapped toward it, and there it was.

A great serpent lurked within the swirling emerald mist, its size dwarfing even the vast roads of the empire that could ten carriages moving side by side. It felt as though it could coil around the very skies of the empire and swallow them whole.

Yet, he could only see a fraction of its form. The rest remained concealed within the emerald veil.

Something within him screamed—hide your eyes; do not gaze upon the great deceiver!

But his body refused to obey.

His eyes saw.

And forevermore, he would be lost.

He had fallen into the hands of the slithering deceiver.

And it would surprise no one when the crown prince knelt, head bowed, as his voice called out...

"Oathkeeper...."

Elsewhere in the Empire...

Far from where the Prince's ceremony took place, in a tower adorned with gold and crystal, a different awakening was unfolding.

The tower was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its design magnificent beyond compare. And yet, despite its grandeur, it had only a single entrance and a lone window. It sat in a deserted land that had seen only a few people in the entirety of the time it was made; only those that brought food to the fallen queen had stepped foot here.

Abandoned by the waking world, it sat in a realm of its own, sharing nothing but a foundation on which it sat.

Meaning without the emperor's permission, one would never be able to find it.

It soared higher than any structure in the empire. But none would ever know; hidden away like a jewel, an aura of loneliness surrounded it.

Within its most sacred chamber, a ceremony took place—not one of opulence, but of desperate effort.

A small puddle of jade-gold blood lay on the floor; it gave the feel of something precious, like the ichor of fairies or something wholly divine, yet equally mysterious.

Tracing its origin led to a woman—a being sculpted of jade, her golden hair cascading like molten light or gold. Blood trickled endlessly from her delicate wrists, pooling around her as if forming a ritual circle. Yet, despite her wounds, she never seemed to weaken; her will remained strong and vigorous.

She was Reina—the banished empress of light and flame.

And today, she would awaken the legacies of her children, whether the empire knew or not.

Whether her former husband, the emperor, approved or not.

She knew he had taken another.

Another woman had borne him children, though he had once sworn that she alone would mother the bloodline destined to rule the Throne of Light and Flame.

She felt anger.

But also helplessness.

It was not his fault.

She had made a mistake.

She had allowed herself to be sullied.

And she had paid the price.

Yet, from that price, she had received two beautiful children.

Her sin was weakness, and she had been punished.

But today, she would not allow the empire's betrayal to dictate the future of her children.

She would give them the strength to fight.

Where she had faltered, they would rise.

And she was confident in them. Her bloodline was too great, too potent, though she refused to use it well; it did not mean it left... When the awakening was complete, they would become something more than the monsters spoken of in legends.

She would never acknowledge the other half of their heritage, the pain associated with it was just too much, but even she could not deny the truth. Their fathers were descended from the blood of gods.

There was no way they would be anything less.

In the middle of the ichor pool sat two children of similar age—the only thing linking them together was their shared birth and their mother's features.

Beyond that, they were as different as night and day.

Reina looked at them, her hollow smile tinged with sorrow.

She wished she could accompany them through the trials of life, but fate had already decided.

Her life would be the price.

She had left contingencies to ensure they would escape this prison reality they kept her in.

Today, the tower that held the Forgotten Empress would collapse, burying her broken body within.

A fitting burial indeed.

"Why go so far, sister...?"

A voice, smooth like aged ale, whispered from the shadows.

It held a lazy quality, indifferent yet curious.

The figure did nothing to stop her.

He knew he couldn't.

Even if he tried, even if he wanted to, it was impossible.

And so he simply watched.

"Just do your part, Brother..." she murmured weakly, never taking her eyes off her children.

"They are all I have left."

Then, after a pause—

"Don't tell Father. It's better this way."

"..." A sigh escaped him.

"He always loved you more, you know..." Astrel murmured, his voice unchanged even as he spoke of something he had long despised about their father. But even he knew—nothing good would come from telling him.

The man believed his daughter was dead. The only thing keeping him from razing the empire to the ground was the knowledge that, for once, the reasons were fully justified.

Reina had fallen silent. At some point during their conversation, her eyes had gone void of life. She had already left this world.

"...Okay, sister. I will look after your children for you," Astrel said, his voice directed at the fleeting life that had lingered—if only to ensure every last drop of ichor had left her body.

It sounded more like a vow to himself than a promise to her.

Today, the Empress died. His sister was gone. And the man responsible? Frolicking with another woman, utterly unbothered.

Astrel thought hard about what to do next.

And it was... well, let's just say it was quite destructive. Because of this single conversation between brother and sister, Astrea- ohh not yet named Astrea] would change in ways no one could foresee.

He looked at the children—his niece and nephew—his gaze veiling the storm of wrath that had just been born within him.

The empire would pay for every drop of blood, every tear she had shed.

He had never shown it, had never told her. But that did not change the truth. He had always wanted the best for her. And now, she was gone.

The empire will pay....

The empire will pay....

This dammed Empire will burn to the ground, sister...

Like a mantra, it echoed in his soul like heavenly thunder.