▬▬▬ thine exalted, blessed with curse
EYES OPENED.
In in the field of damp grass, beneath an olden tree as it shared its shade.
Eyes were fully open.
The yellow heads of marigolds swayed up and down in the wind as the morning progressed. Little flowers that were many, very delicate in touch and sight, but they were like little sun greeting a beautiful day.
It was peaceful, so peaceful.
You wondered. Thus you wondered if you could see a morning like this again.
As you looked at things, you measured the morning sun sending its golden waves that were illuminating the peripheral beauty of the gardens.
Your back was laid on the grassy ground while inhaling the fresh morning breeze. The grass was greener, the golden gleam was getting warmer, and you could listen to the chorusing birds until the end of the day.
Yet, it was just a dream.
You were in a reverie.
You landed in the acre realities of tragedies, sitting in the drenched plains of grass. You looked ups and lows, left and right.
Where art I?
You must have been stranded amidst abandoned land—a place of ruins, bleakness, and monochrome.
The wind gushed, making past of you, howling gently in your ears before it clothed the world around you.
You traveled your eyes everywhere as if you were memorizing every bit of these havocked surroundings. It scarcely terrified you. Scarcely terrified.
Not that long, the gloom had turned into a dark shade of grey. It became much darker until the fog quickly coated the whole place. It was hard for you to see, but you kept on moving forward. The wind came through, swaying her clothes and hair along with the path of the wind.
You squinted her eyes, trying to adjust your field of vision.
It didn't take long enough as you ended up finding a consequential structure. Very silent, embraced by sorrows, the epitome of a broken glory.
You then stepped inside. The monumental building had almost fallen into ashes and dust, yet it was still trying to stand.
Something had compelled inside of you, just seeing the whole place even further. Something familiar and quite painful. You started to look for artifacts, some evidence to know whose property was this.
You stopped after a few paces, picking up a thing on the floor. Curiosity painted your face as you determined that it was: small knife. It still looked so new and stained with dried blood. You were able to recognize whose knife was it. Keeping the lightweight blade in your grasp, you went deeper insides. There was a mysterious force that had been pulling you ever since you stepped in.
You entered one of the doors, and you were greeted by thick dust billowing upon the swing of the door.
You inhaled the thick air of the room, filled your lungs with sadness, and breathed exhaustion. It was inflating you, making it harder to breathe as if putting heavy weights on your chest. Uneasiness had started to coil inside you, feeling a little nauseous suddenly. Your curiosity was strong, nonetheless. You were looking for something—something you weren't aware of. It was only your subconscious commanding you that you would find something here in this house of terror.
Once you were about to take another step, you heard the lurching sounds of footsteps nearing. You angled your head to see the person. Your lips stretched weakly.
"Thine humble guest," you greeted.
He never answered back. A face of emotionless, a stare of a nocturnal ghost. You observed the perplexity of his seething gaze.
"Smelt blood in thy place."
Soon as he spoke, it frightened you on how serious he was.
"Thou hast killeth someone . . . Thine Highness?"
You stared at him with wide eyes. You were taken aback by his bleak expression as you moved backward, pressing your heel on the wall.
"Kill?" you muttered.
You wanted to keep your shoulder from shuddering and your teeth from gnashing. Then you saw your blade. It was as if the dead place became alive, and scarlet blood oozed down the blade of the small knife in thick droplets and now scattered on the ground, painting the floor beside your feet in crimson red.
Stood frozen, you gazed at the blood with tremendous disquietude. Your own hands drench with the red liquid.
Your humble guest suddenly vanished like a thin vapor.
Confusing.
You had nothing to do with it. It was the reality. Reality embedded in a dream.
"Kill, huh?" You might sound so dispassionate, your mind still swirling in confusion about unexplainable changes of scenarios.
You carried on walking, trying to shrug everything off. Yet you were halted by a whimpering voice.
"T-Thine Highness . . . Save us . . !"
Your body startled as you looked where the voice came from. It was behind you. You were expecting a mere person, but a corpse transfigured. You easily depicted that it was a body of a woman, basing from her built that almost rotting with her scattered, ruly hair. The corpse's back was pressed on the wall, seated, head tilted on left. Her clothes were generously stained by dried blood. Her eyes must have decayed, showing her hallowed sockets, and her mouth left hung open. And the smell. The rotting smell wasn't something bearable.
". . . Our hope!"
The lifeless body was muttering words that were repugnant in your ears. Like an acrid liquid burning rationality.
She was dead, yet why she could move her arm? How could she talk? That scared you. It even graved your spirit. The corpse slowly raised her arm, a finger was pointing at you full of accusations.
"Why art thou taketh thy life away?"
It wasn't long when you noticed a knife stuck between her chest. It was the same knife you were holding. The stabs in the heart must have ended her life.
"S-Save . . . Save me. . ." the corpse stated once again, the pain in her voice was remarkable. "Thine priestess . . ."
Hesitantly and unknowingly, your eyes never left the corpse before you. Her mouth was clogged by deep agony. And you are the thine priestess.
A person you killed.
She was a person you killed.
Your very own mother.
You inwardly scoffed. Disgust churned your stomach, even immersing in the deepest parts of your brain. To think you were able to murder someone. Such vanity. If your blood could speak, those were the words it would unleash.
She was a loving mother you knew, the one who looked so dignified with her own intricate clothing, but that was all she had: her own intricate clothing.
The person moved once again, trying to crawl towards you. What was this corpse wanting from you? Instead, your mind spiraled in full of questions, lost in a state of confusion.
"Cease!" you calmly ordered, trying to restraint your stern voice. "Thou shan't take another step."
Yet the corpse never stopped moving. Her flesh had dried up, wilted, and grey, almost leaving her to bones. You could have just hit the dead person away with your foot. Yet your sense of connection was preventing you. She died, having no salvation from this world. It was really horrible, at least you understood what it meant. The corpse appeared bearing a huge grudge. Grudge towards you. Foul resentment, very unforgiving.
"I killed you?" You hardly try to sympathize, making your voice distinct. The corpse didn't answer, still slowly creeping to your reach.
"Right . . ." You smiled. Though it rented you, that subtle creasing of your mouth—so stoic and resigned, like when you faced one of your mounds of endless darning.
"Thine mother hath always been like this." You only watched the corpse of your mother with your pair of bleak eyes as she finally took a grasp on your clothes. "Shamelessly groveling onto the feet of thee, thou phantasmic priestess, a deity."
You let the dead clung onto you. The corpse's eyes were hallowed, and an abrupt spasm broke through your heart once streams of tears went out from the bottomless holes in her eyes.
You began to apprehend.
Those tears wouldn't lie.
Lying about you, thine Highness the priestess, killed her. The grudge of a dead person deserved you.
Because . . .
"Thou doeth not want to die, doeth thee?"
Such slavering, crippling words came out of your mouth, an icy downpour fell upon you like cold blades. It seethed through you thoroughly, once understanding the dread of a broken soul.
You could have apologized, to give your sorrowful sympathy about the pain in her heart that was expressed through the ill-fallen queen's tears that dripped down wretchedly.
The corpse was still holding you, unmoving, as you quietly watched her broken tears and crushed spirit. Yes . . . Even the death of your clan—those people whose names you didn't know.
Now you remembered.
One night . . .
Without any warning, an army of stately warriors attacked your nation. You remembered well the cries of your people, which you rejoiced in their struggle.
They did secretly those things that were not right against your eyes and principles, and they set up images and icons in every high hill, even under every green tree. They also burnt incense in all the high places and wrought wicked things to provoke your repugnance towards your nation.
Notwithstanding, they would not stop, thus they even hardened their necks.
You rejected the statutes they created, as they persistently followed vanity, they became vain. And they made molten images, as well as the images of the serpents, and built a grove where they worshipped all the host of the celestial beings they knew. They caused their sons and their daughters to pass through the fire, and used divination and enchantments, and sold themselves to do immoral things in your sight.
Therefore, you loathed them, wanting to remove them out of your sight. You brought demise all to the seeds of your nation, put affliction unto them, and delivered them into the hand of spoilers, until you had cast them out of the face of this land.
And you, the Her Highness, had already atoned for their deaths.
You were also killed.
Your entire clan was slaughtered. And they killed you too.
The last moment you remembered when a spear ripped right through you.
And just like the others, your corpse was abandoned, left to rot.
Then . . . Why are you here?
EYES OPENED.
You didn't expect to wake up.
You didn't expect anything.
Not the frails sounds of your lungs—
the rising and heaving of your chest, your staggering breaths—
Nor the beating of your heart against your ears.
Why . . .
Alive.
Breathing.
Living.
Feeling.
You then screamed.
You jolted up abruptly.
Screaming and screaming.
Crying.
Lamenting, so ragged and harsh.
Curse. Curse. Curse
You were cursed.
Your heart was throbbing in fear, echoing these grievances through raspy screams.
Anxiety became what you breathed, filling up your bloodstreams like a thick poison.
WHY
You weren't able to take a stand when you got tripped, knees falling on the ground.
Appalled, you looked down.
There was a hand that was gripping your foot.
Its skin had dried up, flesh desiccated.
You felt yourself in a dark abyss, holding tight on the stinking corpses and crawling up like a devil out of the chasm.
It didn't take long when countless hands started to rise from the ground and took hold of you tightly, trying to drag you down even to the most bottom of the earth.
You continued screaming hysterically, reaching for your hair to pull every strand harshly.
I
You started to claw your scalp, it didn't hurt much to wake you up in a nightmare. You then clawed your face with great effort, wounding yourself until blood squished out of your skin, trying to know the distinction between reality and delusions.
Scary . . . It was too scary.
You shouted, screaming, finding help.
You saw the vast night skies, only staring down at you with a pair of pitiful eyes . . . Staring at you down the deep, black abyss.
Darkness welcomed you so dearly, ever-smiling so diabolically.
The hands of the dead people were still holding you, pulling you, beckoning you to fall.
AM
As you clung for your dear sanity, you roamed your eyes around. This was the core of the abyss. It was full of corpses. You were suffocated. This was a place of the dead with broken souls stuck in a chaotic eternity, those who endured the everlasting hell.
It was then that you saw that the ground in which where you were designed was no longer the richness of the soil. It was a hot, steaming crimson, and you laid there in it, a gradually growing sea of red. And you realized that you, too, was bathing in it, a deep puddle of defected blood of humans.
And yet, you alone were to live.
You could hear them calling you.
Priestess, priestess! Oh, have mercy on us, thine priestess! Save us, please pray for us!
And you cried like a child.
Then you screamed, "Your gods hath abandoned you! And so . . . And so hath the highness!"
Rotting, decaying, dead, soulless, silent, cruel.
Sooner, you couldn't keep your rationality in the irrationality, and only collapsed on the masses of decomposing bodies that were carelessly piled atop each other. Maggots, pupas, larvae, insects, and lots of disgusting creatures burrowed in and out of their crumbling flesh.
You let out small whimpers and pleading cries, could no longer use your remaining strength to get away from here.
NOT
Everything was dragged in vain as these corpses had reached and toppled you.
Were they even angry at you? No, they hoped on you more. Their hopes ate you up. These poor souls you had planned to kill. You even had no idea who they were.
You sobbed, moaned, and let all these agonies impelled on your chest.
There once a hole in your chest, yet you saw it whole, complete, and healed.
No, no . . . This shan't be . . . This shan't be!
You screamed and screamed, louder and louder, nonstop until your voice became hoarse.
For all your sins, their hopes, were now woven into ropes, slavering you so captively.
You wept, tears flowed enormously on your cheeks.
Why . . . Why they didn't let you die?
You saw the faces of the deads lingering in your sights, as far as your visions could measure, they had an impression of envying you. You, who was the blessed one to escape the eternal hell.
And you envied them.
You didn't want to be the blessed one.
You were supposed to be dead. You should have died. You should die.
Why you were alive?
Why am I not dead?
You despised it:
the rotten air you breathe.
the curse living in your bloodstreams.
DEAD?
Curse. Curse. Curse.
You are curse.
i had a deep meditation about my oc mykerinos since two weeks ago (ig) XD his character must not be insignificant //unlike my life//, but . . . yeah, guess what, i didn't listen to my initial thoughts lmao. and i remembered that i hated wasting characters, so. every character must have their purpose served well.
this is so shitty hahahahah forgive me. yes, im taking advantage of the word 'fantasy' and 'supernatural' lmao i hope y'all get the idea 👉🏼👈🏼 and im sorry for being a trashy writer with trashy imagination
and i contemplated for five days to write this. im suffering while writing this handkksmdkd
ps. this is a k. nanami fanfic where nanami aint even here :clown:
💀 h a n d t h e I r e n d 💀