A girl in disguise. An heir in hunt. A world divided.
Iris Lavera is born into the civilization of the least respected ones. The lineage where it's predicted to birth a curse. A low born who will be the downfall of an entire nation if left alive.
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The core.
A word that provokes fright in our hearts was once nothing but an endless land of a region unknown. A place where strange but beautiful evolution were nurtured, where seasons changed by weeks and the sun never reached the ground. Neither did the rain. People of faith are said to have declared the grounds to be of holy descent. something that they were convinced, would belong to a higher being. but purity has always been a victim of greed, and it was no different with the land.
When the wealthiest of men were made aware of the value the territory piers, they ripped its resources from its seams. The water- to heal their ill. The spices- to glamour their skin. The gems- to fill their treasury and the people- to fight for a piece of it. Wars among kingdoms, thieves with skill who mined and spies who will betray their friends for a zest of luxury the soil brought, remained a constant catastrophe among them.
That is till the night the ground shook. An earthquake said to be so magnificent that its tremor rattled the realms surrounding it. A crack, the length of a lake separated the land into two halves with a cavity so deep that couldn't be mapped. A bright light, radiant blue seared through its mouth -blinding the onlookers partially, but they insisted what they saw- and they saw people walk out of the core.
Humans.
Or what a human is perceived to be in heaven like.
May be Angels even.
Divine and glorious, dressed in a fabric that reflected the moon. Men and women with long hair, young in skin and rage in their starlit eyes. And they began to kill. Kill all who couldn't flee- without mercy, without noise and petrifying, without a weapon. They occurred dreamlike, with larger pupils and mesmerizing faces. But the only thing a person welcomed was their death the moment their eyes met theirs.
And then, they disappeared. Vanished into a mist above the land. Certainly not back to the surface they crawled out of.
We call them origens. The original of us all. With power unimaginable. With believe of them as myth.
The fatalities were never recovered as the radius of the Core was suspected to have become inhabitable. Clouds of lethal storm hung above, and a line of dead fish surfaced on the sea bed when the rain got varied with the ocean. The wood of the ship began to dissolve And the stench burned the throats. something had happened and none would go back or visit to inspect.
None who would savor their life would.
The survivors who lived to tell fell into a pit of insanity. They would speak of a world beneath their feet. Some would cry apologies for having ruined their home while others would whisper to the sky of how they live among us now. While one confessed that the creature had spoken to them with a message. A promise perhaps- with his words so precise, it must be.
