An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Standing upon the blood-soaked ruins of a place she had not even bothered to learn the name of lost in the massacre, Istrabell couldn't help but curse her life.

Why?

Why was she the one that had to turn out this way? All she ever wanted was the chance to control her own life.

Everything she had done had become nothing but a curse.

Innocent young men with bright futures became nothing more than sacrifices for her power, it might not have been her own decision, but she had done nothing but accept it nevertheless, so in her books she was as responsibleas those that had planned for everything to begin with.

Sons, brothers, young men who were the hopes and dreams of those who looked up to them, youths of promising potential became nothing more than catalysts for her awakening.

Her silver eyes flashed as she looked at the past of the gore of all those nights.

She remembered every pair of eyes that lost its light upon realizing they had been nothing more than pawns in a game they could never understand, every single name of those betrothed to her all because they could not escape the schemes of the powerful

Every detail etched into her memory—dying in her arms, refusing parents the chance to bury their children—because she would take their corpses.

All for what? This meager power…

A power that had been corrupted and tainted.

And her family may never even realize what they had done by allowing that thing to sink its teeth into their legacy.

Now she had to shoulder a burden with nothing but a rotting foundation to stand upon.

Another sacrifice had just been made for her path to power.

Innocent lives taken to satiate the overwhelming urge of her tainted legacy.

Mothers separated from their children. Fathers forced to watch as their families were torn limb from limb, flesh torn off their bones. Bones ground to dust, lives erased in agony…

Pregnant women watched their unborn children torn from their wombs, nothing more than a meal. A meal that the chains ate with even more fervor as though it were a delicacy.

The resentment that soaked the air—she saw it. And yet, she continued all the same.

And even when she hoped that, at the very least, they would not be tormented, karma laughed in her face. She was forced to watch every expression, every twitch, every spike of pain in their eyes.

And all she could do was move faster and look blankly at the world.

She would rather they see her as the monster she was than show them how selfish her heart truly was.

They say beauty is a blessing from the gods.

And in most cases, she would have agreed.

But she was beginning to realize that sometimes, the chains you wore were the most dazzling. So beautiful you never realized they were chains at all—because your mind was fooled by their glimmer and opulence.

She had seen her family use their crystal-like chains… showing phenomenal power, earning awe and reverence from the masses.

But now she could see how naive they had all been.

These were chains.

No matter how embellished, no matter if they were made of the rarest materials, they were still chains.

And that was all that mattered.

Honestly, she didn't even know what to feel after realizing this was all their legacy would amount to.

Slaves… adorned in crystal chains. Exquisite. Radiant. She had once admired them the first time she saw them.

But after realizing they were nothing more than leeches of power, all those feelings vanished.

She could have chosen to walk away from it all, to discard her legacy.

But she chose to accept it.

For if she had chosen to walk away, to gain power would have been impossible. So she chose to bear this rotten fruit in hopes that one day she would find the opportunity.

The way the chains tore through her flesh, fusing with her bones down to the marrow, rooting themselves deep within her made her want to retch, to claw them out of her body, for the defiled what littel she had left, but she chose to bear it. They slithered through her organs, replacing most of her blood vessels—her poor heart punctured and corrupted, a home for a snake.

She had never known pain like that before. But she grit her teeth and endured.

They whispered, constant and vile: urging her to kill herself, to kill those around her, to devour their flesh, to bring pain and misery to all within her reach.

Everywhere she looked, she saw potential targets. She might have gone on a rampage, were it not for the altar—a legacy relic that transported her to this hidden place where no one would know what she had done.

And after holding out for so long, after battling the whispers that clawed at her sanity…

She realized it had all been futile.

Even before they mocked her, they allowed her to watch these people. Watch their lives for days...

She thought she was fighting a battle of will.

She saw them celebrate the passing of the Surge. She saw their offerings to the flaming altar, the dances, the laughter. Children. Parents. The elderly. The young. Their numbers were great, and yet the joy they shared radiated like a beacon.

They lived simple lives, dressed like primitive folk, yet their smiles told her everything.

There was no singular race among them. It was as if many people of varying descent had mingled here for ages, and she believed that, given more time, something truly potent would have emerged.

What united them most was the image of a leaf—painted or tattooed on their bodies, she had not been able to tell.

But it resembled the foilage that encircled their home.

The more leaves one had, the more respect and authority they wielded in the settlement.

But it was all meaningless now. They were dead. Nourishment for the chains that had chosen her flesh as their home.

She had never loathed herself more than she did now—but her eyes flashed, and her heart eased.

It would be fine.

She would carry their hopes and dreams. When the day came to answer for her sins, she would lay her head down gladly.

But for now… nothing would stop her.

Wiping away the blood that had dripped into her eyes…

Istrabell slowly removed her clothing, folding it gently and placing it in a heap.

Her naked form stood beneath the light of the great pillar—its warmth long gone, leaving only the cold of night.

Her milky brown skin shimmered with undertones of silver, giving her a beauty that was almost unnatural.

Her assets were bare, and her body was growing, swelling with power—muscle rippling beneath delicate skin.

As she removed the final piece of fabric, she noticed tufts of red grass sprouting where she stood. A shiver ran through her.

Disgust flashed in her eyes at the sight of the grass. It had done nothing to her—but the memory of that place and what this signified would never fade.

She listed it among the many things she would one day destroy.

The Silverflames did not deserve the power they wielded, not if it came from such disgusting origins.

Her expression softened once more into serenity as she approached a small pool of luminous water, where the springs gathered.

She walked over crushed bone—naked, bloodied, her silver locs framing her face like a crown. Yet even now, a haze obscured her features. Only her eyes were visible, gleaming like twin moons.

She didn't flinch as the sharpness of bones pierced her feet, drawing beads of silver blood.

The red grass grew in her wake, nourished by what she bled, greeduly devouring every drop of her sweat and blood. But she never looked back. Only forward—until she was submerged.

Her head dipped beneath the water, and one might have thought she meant to drown herself.

Even as time passed, she did not rise.

Her locs floated around her like snakes in the current. Her body distorted beautifully beneath the glowing waters.

She did not move.

Only the stillness of the dead surroundings remained.

And then—gasping—she emerged.

Her silver eyes were veined with red, a sign of how deep her descent into her mental state had gone.

"Your burdens, all your anger, all your hate and all your resentment... I'll carry them with me until the end of time," she whispered—not to anyone in particular, but to the skies above her eyes were fixed, the great pillar the only stability she needed

Its light glinted in her eyes, reflecting the smoldering rage buried deep within.

But it vanished, replaced by lakes of indifferent mercury.

Her words as though the key this place had been waiting for. The resentment that had long searched for something to latch onto found its anchor.

And like a spear from the depths, it pierced her soul.

Despite how tencious her will seemed so far, she screamed.

"Ahhhhh..."

Chains rattled in joy.

They danced in her misery, unaware of the reckoning they had just welcomed into themselves.