An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

An old house stood beyond the edge of the City of Light, abandoned by civilization, situated beyond walls that were built so high, they reached the skies in a single bound, isolating them from whatever existed within.

It sat in solitude, far from the bustle and liveliness of the city, within the walls that seemed to separate reality between two classes of people so different from each other that it might have been the difference between the heavens and earth

Beyond the wall might as well have been a different world altogether, leeching off the light of the city beyond them. Some called it cursed; many never even dared to set foot beyond the city's bounds. And yet, within this seemingly rotting house, there was happiness—a family of five lived here.

In their simple life, they ate from the earth, raised livestock, and farmed within the limits allowed to them. Their lives were mundane, yet they were content.

As happy as one could be while steeped in poverty.

At this time of day, the sky had darkened considerably, the cusp of night drawing near. Within the house, hushed voices of children could be heard.

"Mother... will you tell us a tale once again?"

The children asked their mother.

She was a middle-aged woman with a simple beauty. Her earthy hair, brown like the soil she tilled through the seasons, framed her face. Her eyes, equally brown and gentle, were large and round—like those of a newborn calf.

On her whole person, they were perhaps the most striking feature.

Her form was soft and tender, yet marred by the labor she carried out daily to ensure a better life for her children.

She was the kind of person one would easily forget.

Her children, on the other hand, were worlds apart from her.

They were the epitome of grace and beauty.

Her name was Miranda, and for as long as she could remember, she had been a simple farmer's daughter. She was born and raised on the outskirts of the great city of Astea.

Ten years ago, her father had died violently in an attack by the Children of Darkness. She had been left alone in this cursed world until she met him.

The father of her children. The love of her life, she says...

But even then, things had never been easy for them.

Her husband was immobile, leaving her to shoulder the burden of raising their children and maintaining their home.

But she never considered it a hardship. She had been raised in extreme conditions, and this little work was nothing to her.

Lately, her children had grown old enough to help around the home, making life a little more lively. If only her husband could join them.

Alas... life is not full of roses.

Miranda sighed to herself, momentarily lost in melancholy—until her eldest son moved to hug her.

"Mother, things will be fine."

"Soon, I will grow big and strong and take care of you for the rest of your life."

"Just wait until I awaken my legacy."

The child assured her.

She often wondered what she had done to deserve such beautiful children...

They had inherited all the best aspects of their father, and for that, she was grateful. Had they taken after her, they might have been dull-looking.

Her husband was almost as beautiful as a god on earth, and every day, when she saw his emotionless face and immobile body, she felt both sorrow and joy.

Sorrow, for he had never been able to live a full life, always confined to a bed. Joy, for she had been able to give him three beautiful children—two sons and a daughter.

If he had been able to move, he might have married a city girl or perhaps even a priestess in Astea. He might have even joined royalty. But here he was, trapped in her simple home, bound and plagued by a curse she could not even begin to understand.

Her only solace was that the curse seemed to lift for nine days each year, and it was during those brief moments that she had conceived their children. Though he would be in a state of delirium, it was the best time of her life; he may not recognize her, but she was able to love the man she wanted to care for.

He would push her away, but her persistence had led to the three bundles of joy that were now asking her for a story, so while she felt it was funny how he never seemed to care for her, even when he woke up, she was content.

Today, Estra, her youngest daughter, had asked her for a story, as the children often did. They loved hearing tales of old.

Thankfully, her father had once told her many stories. She had been fascinated by them, never knowing whether they were true or mere fables.

Only on the day of his death did she realize that perhaps, just perhaps, there was some truth to them.

"Okay, let me tell you a tale my father once told me when I was a young lass."

"He said that long ago, our world was never like this."

"We were free."

"Long before the age of gods, the Light looked after us."

"We were its children."

"We never tired. We never waned. Our breath was always clean, our spirits free, our lives glittering in the glory of the Creator."

"Harmony was abundant. Food was always there. We never grew hungry."

"But then one day, they were born."

"They did not come alone. Their shadows soon followed."

"They sought to rule the land, to be worshipped for the might they showed us. And we never thought much of it, giving them the glory we thought they deserved."

"But then, first blood was spilled. War came. Death followed in its wake. Sin lurked in the quagmire, unnoticed by even 'them.' It slithered within their midst, but they were none the wiser. It bated. It waited. It's time to strike was neither far nor near."

"Hunger followed. We were caught in the crossfire."

"Sorrow filled our hearts, and many turned to sin."

"It had struck, but we were ignorant of its corruption."

"The days became darker, and then the Light abandoned us."

"We were no longer worthy of its grace."

"But we were tenacious, never faltering."

"Our will was strong, and they desired what we held in our hearts."

"So they offered us shelter—so long as we worshipped their might."

"So long as we gave them glory, they would keep us free from the plight of the war they fought against their shadows."

"Many accepted. Many bowed to glorify them."

"But never did we realize—we were giving them the wings they desired."

"The Light was unwilling, but we forced her hand. She cried in sorrow, but we were oblivious to her pain. We bowed in awe at the might they showed us."

"We gave them power we did not even realize we possessed."

"All we knew was that soon, the wars ceased, and everything became calm."

"If only for a short moment."

"That day, they became gods. They stood at the height of power, but with their birth, darkness bloomed alongside them."

"They took all their subjects into their fold."

"The cities were born, and the darkness stood as a sentinel at the barrier that protected us from the 'Chained Children.'"

"And so, every season, the cities of the gods would receive attacks from the Chained Children. But the glory of the gods protected us, and we fell deeper into worship..."

"That, my children, is the Tale of Light. My father never did finish the tale, something about how much of the history was hidden from the eyes of mortals."

Miranda finished her story with a hint of melancholy, her mind clouded with confusion at the words she had spoken.

No matter how much she tried to understand why these stories felt so familiar, she could not comprehend the weight of the knowledge she held.

Lost in thought, she failed to notice a pair of piercing crimson eyes watching her feeble form from the cover of darkness in the moldy house.

In them was a wrath that drenched the irises with crimson so deep it felt like a chasm. But soon a haze glazed over them, tainting them with weakness they did not deserve, and soon they closed once more.