An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Today, Miranda woke up quite early—just slightly earlier than usual—but nothing seemed out of place. The air was fresh ..slightly cold but sharp...as usual.

The sound of animals in shelters crowded the morning with noise of nature...

The light from the Great City of Astrea rose as usual, filling the whole land inside the city and beyond its towering gates with unwavering radiance and warmth. It stung the skin in soft cadence that bellied a happiness that many could not fathom.

They said the radiance originated from the power of the Great Diearch of Astrea, his might and splendor ensuring that the city never went without light.

As for how true this was, she was not concerned. They had shunned her and her family; for generations, her ancestors had never been allowed to set foot in Astrea—a decree that had withstood the test of time.

The only part that truly bothered her was that her children would never see the magnificence of the city said to be built by the hands of gods. A city rumored to have rivers of ambrosia and light overflowing from every brick used in its foundation.

She herself had never set foot there, nor had her father, though apparently, her mother was born and raised in the city. How she came to live with her father and eventually give birth to Miranda remained a mystery.

She had never seen her mother, who was said to have died shortly after childbirth. According to her father, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Yet there was no sadness, there was no melancholy when he spoke of supposed sweet memories they shared in his voice when he spoke of the mother of his only child—who had died young, he always spoke of himself...the way he felt...the way her presencealways calmed his mind....but in all that she had never once heard of how she smiled...of how she laughed sweetly, it was always him and his happiness.Miranda always ignored the lack of affection in his voice and simply continued carrying out her duties.

But then, it begged the question: if her mother was so beautiful, what had happened to her? How had she ended up plain as dirt, uninteresting in every way?

There were also rumors that the royal family of Astrea had the divine blood of the gods running through their veins, causing them to have the most enigmatic paths in the entire city.

But she cared nothing for it. The royal family and their golden blood had nothing to do with how she raised her children or looked after her immobile husband. How she chose to love him despite his disabilities, how she chose to live in solitude for the biggest part of hers and her children's lives, they were happy, she was happy and that's all that mattered in the end.

Realizing that her thoughts had wandered, she quickly pulled herself together and pushed open the old door of their humble home.

Its hinges were rusted and slack, groaning with age. The wood was so moldy that thick moss covered parts of it, making it look almost like a living tree, moisture deeply entrenched in its make that it was quite heavy when lifting it, but it served its purpose in keeping the decency of a home, to weather the cold and the day, it had worked for so long that she would remember so many times her father had told her to watch out for it.

She pushed the door carefully, afraid it might fall from its hinges and leave them exposed to the elements. Every move was laced with caution, and she spent nearly a full moment just easing it open.

Finally, she propped the door against the wall with a stone to keep it in place, where it would remain until nightfall when she would close up the home. She couldn't risk the children bursting through it during their play,running around was a game her sons liked to play with the little one, always indulging her in moments of play and mischief.

With that done, she stood outside, gazing at the soft rays of radiance from the city, momentarily dazed by the beauty of nature and the power of the divine, his mercy a concept that lit their lives for all this while...life moving on as though they had never seen suffering.

Yet a hint of regret crept in as she looked at the towering walls of Astrea, which blocked what must have been a divine view of the source of this beautiful light.

The walls were built so tall that their tops could only be seen from a far vantage point. Otherwise, one would have to lie flat on the ground just to glimpse their true height.

But what they obscured with their immensity, they made up for with the ever-changing images embedded in their structure. Each morning, as the light rose, the scenes on the walls shifted with aura that made many look at them at each change that took place.

Sometimes, they depicted great battles waged across lands far beyond their understanding. Other times, they showed warriors fighting against foes cloaked in darkness, with swirling clouds of even greater shadow, other times it was winged beings worshipping a being shrouded in flames and light, at times it was a grand throne of gold that occupied the immensity of the walls, other times it was a vault so tall, with imagery gates so steeped in divinity that many could not really tell what they looked at. One detail was consistent in every image: the chains that peeked out from the shrouded forms—visible only to those who paid close attention.

The outskirts of the Great City were not desolate. To say her house stood alone would have been an exaggeration, for the outskirts themselves stretched as large as a country.

Countless people lived there, as numerous as ants on the ground.

One might think that in such a vast space, they would have forged their own society—dealt with their exile by creating happiness outside the city's walls. But that was not the case.

A pervasive gloom enveloped everyone outside Astrea. It had persisted for generations, never fading.

Every child born here knew their insignificance. They walked with bowed heads, never raising their gaze to the city's radiance.

No one spoke to those outside their homes. Conversations were reserved for those under the same roof. Each household lived in isolation, never interfering with another.

And for good reason.

But none of that had anything to do with Miranda. She was busy tending to her land, cultivating plants and checking on the animals she raised.

Everything moved as usual at home. Just as she wiped the sweat from her brow, she heard the excited footsteps of her little girl rushing out of the house.

"Mother…"

"Mother…" The little girl called insistently, her childish voice brimming with excitement. She ran at full speed through the rows of plants where her mother worked, stopping only when Miranda scooped her up in her arms.

"Whoa… Watch out, little one! We wouldn't want you falling flat on your pretty face, would we?" Miranda chided gently, her voice holding no real blame.

She always felt joy looking at her bubbly daughter.

Estrel had a head full of wine-red hair that shimmered under Astrea's radiance. Her large, slightly curved eyes—so much like her father's—were tinted with a mix of grey and gold, both tender and cold in their gaze. Her small, narrow face could fit perfectly in the palm of Miranda's hand.

Her skin, a blend of sunset hues and greying jade, made her look exotic and undeniably adorable. A clear sign that she would grow to be as fierce a beauty as her father.

Smiling at her breathless daughter, Miranda asked, "What has you so excited that you're jumping around so much this early?"

Estrel tried to catch her breath, still overwhelmed by excitement.

"Mother…" She struggled to speak between gasps. Her eyes shining like jewels on a midday rain.

"Careful, take your time, Estrel," Miranda admonished gently. "The world won't end if you take a moment to catch your breath."

But the girl ignored her mother's words, hurriedly bobbing her head. Her speech incoherent.

"Mother, Father is awake..."

She finally completed her sentence, beaming with the joy of delivering the news.

But she failed to see the venomous glare that flickered in her mother's eyes at the mention of this. It slithered within like it was held in a different realm all together, her face twisted imperceptible....harshness taking to her features....as her hair turned shades darker....and a glare of beauty marred her features then dissolved into normalcy, vanishing as though it were an illusion.

'That's not possible… He should not be awake…'

Miranda's thoughts turned chaotic. Her grip on Estrel faltered, threatening to let the girl slip from her arms.

Her eyes clouded with haze and venomous gloom that threatened to spill over.

'That's not possible!...'