An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Miranda, still slumped on the floor, watched as the world grew detached from her—her children, her husband, her home, her life. All of it was crumbling before her.

Her children did not so much as glance at her, as if they had long forgotten how they once tried to comfort her in times of despair, how they had sought to bring her joy when she wept over their father's frailty. They did not run to her, even as she collapsed. Gone was the love for their mother, gone were the promises to become more powerful so that she could live out her life in comfort, and gone were the children that asked her to tell them stories of the eras passed.

The love of her life—the object of her desires, the subject of her devotion and obsession—stood magnificent as ever. Yet, just as he had done the first time she laid eyes on him, he ignored her.

Not once had his gaze lingered upon her, not even after all they had shared. She had once believed that perhaps he did not love her then, but after bearing his children, his cold heart would thaw, and they would have the happiness she longed for. His eyes would no longer look at her in hate and disgust, as they did when they shared those nights of intense passion, passion that led to the creation of her beautiful children

From the moment she saw him, she had vowed to conquer him, to claim him as hers, to make him see that only she could love him completely. He would worship her, remain by her side for the rest of their lives—even if he had to be confined to a bed for that to happen. She had ensured that he would see no face but hers in his waking moments. And in part, she had succeeded.

One could even call it a resounding success.

She had made it so that their children had only ever seen him once in their entire lives. She had secured his seed, carried his legacy.

She may have resorted to means far beyond valor.

But who was to judge? Desperation had led her here.

She had wanted him, and she could not leave their union to fate. What if something happened in between? No, she had taken matters into her own hands, executing a plan that would go down in the annals of history.

A herald of madness, tamed by a mortal woman...

One could only imagine how enraged the herald had been.

He, who had drenched battlefields in the blood of his foes. He, who had piled corpses so high they formed mountains. He, who had struck terror into the hearts of empires. To be reduced to this? Only the divine knew how much he had restrained himself from killing her where she stood.

But now, the fury he had once held for her had been spent elsewhere—unleashed to the outskirts as mercy from his lord, reducing them to ruin, erasing them from reality itself. It might have been cruel from the views of others, but the Herald saw it as mercy.

They lived their lives in pain and indignation; to have them be erased from reality by the Lord himself was the greatest mercy they could ever hope for.

And now, she had to watch as her world crumbled before her.

Everything she had fought for withered in front of her eyes. She would rather burn than watch him leave her. She would rather they all fall into the hands of the Chained Children than watch him disappear. She would rather they all burn to cinders before she could watch him walk out of her life, as if all these years they had shared were nothing to him but a forgotten nightmare.

The voices in her head whispered—no, screamed—for her to take her chances, to claim him entirely. Even if it meant binding him to her forever, even if it meant keeping him immobile and lucid for eternity, she was ready.

Then, lost in the madness of her thoughts, she saw Estrel slip from her grasp and rush toward her father.

Her mind screeched.

The child dared to touch what was hers.

The screeching swelled to unbearable heights as she opened her mouth to scream at the girl's foolishness.

But before a sound could escape, a voice slithered into her mind like venom.

"Shushhhh..."

The word tore through her, unraveling the festering mirth that had taken root in her soul.

The voices went silent, recoiling in horror at what they had heard.

And then—her body moved. Not by her will. Not by her command.

Every muscle strained against an unseen force, struggling in vain.

She was made to slump onto the floor, to kneel before the source of her horror. And there he sat.

In a pocket of his own reality, untouched by light, undisturbed by sound. And yet, she saw him.

The first thing her eyes fell upon was a bloodied black rose, inked into his very being.

Its vines and thorns wove across every inch of his exposed skin, as though they sought to claim him; they breathed like dragons and swarmed like serpents in impunity that seemed to claim being better than he ever was. But she knew better. He allowed it.

His skin was a shifting tapestry of color—pale moon-silver and ash, stark against the black rose's roots. But at times, it darkened into shades beyond mortal comprehension. Deep earthen browns that mirrored the deepest pits of hell, the burn of sunset, the abyss of midnight, the cold hush of dawn, the emptiness of the sky, the terror of the abyss, the dreams of gods, the dread of the devout, the madness of creation, and the fear of the eldritch. A spectrum of hues that had no name in the feeble tongue of mortals.

His face, she could not see. It was incomplete.

All she could perceive was the simple black shirt he wore—no form, no features. No eyes, no hair, no marks to give him an identity she could grasp.

She felt that even the little she had glimpsed was merely him toying with her mind.

Everything about him eluded her.

Everything, except his voice.

It was deep and boundless, serpentine yet vast. Mighty as the firmament, yet veiled within the abyss. Sweet as ambrosia, yet vile as venom. Chilling to the bone, yet warm and fatherly. Careless, yet laden with power.

His words coiled into her mind, playful yet carrying an intent she could not name.

"Let the man meet his children, will you…?"

Even where she knelt, she could hear the amusement laced in every syllable.

And against her will, she was forced to watch.

Her two sons sat obediently upon his lap, as though meeting their long-lost grandfather for the first time.

Then her gaze turned to her daughter, now held in her father's arms.

She watched them speak, watched them introduce themselves.

She could do nothing but stare in silence.

And then, she saw him move.

He approached his other children, meeting them, speaking to them, and doing the same, as heartwarming as it could get. All she felt was dread; none of it filled her with happiness. the way he danced around how to approach his children, delicately toeing a line he did not know he had created for himself.

Yet, beneath the surface, she saw something else—something deeper.

A sorrow. A nostalgia buried within his very being.

And her mind twisted.

He was not happy, she thought.

Rage flooded through her veins.

How dare he look down upon our brood?

Does he believe there could be anyone better than me to bear his children?

"I am the best there will ever be!" she screamed within her mind.

Her thoughts turned black with fury. She nearly lunged for his throat—

But then, his gaze fell upon her.

"Control your thoughts, woman."

His voice, once playful, now carried only cold amusement.

"I would not want to rid these three of their only mother just yet... Forcing them to watch as the light fades from your eyes. Or..."

A pause. A sickening silence.

"Perhaps I should let them carve you up themselves? Hmm. What do you think? Would that be better? Would that remind you of all your efforts? Of how far you had gone to create abominations like them?"

"I wonder if you would laugh as they flayed and skinned you like the animal you are!"

Gone was the laughter.

In its place, desolation laced with glee so twisted, so terrifying, that it threatened to consume her entire soul. Her existence screamed at her, the voices in her head silent as they whimpered at her foolishness for daring to anger an entity like him.

For they knew far more than she ever did.

"Test my patience again and know that your end will never be something you would be able to endure for all eternity. And trust me when I say I will enjoy breaking your mind further than it already is."

And she knew, in that moment, that he meant it.