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Legends of Ambrosia: The Immortals

Qroww
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Synopsis
In the land of Ambrosia, there was a legend of a race of unkillable humans. Their blood was unlimited and their bodies do not decay. Werebeasts and Night lurkers cannot kill them. The strongest poison do not affect them. I believed this only to be a child's bedtime story. No knife can pierce your body, no illness can win you over and time is your comrade? Yeah, rubbish. This stems from our inner fear of death, and our inability to accept that our time is finite. So what happens when one is immortal? Would that person be happy? Lonely? Sad? Maybe even arrogant or ecstatic? I'm figuring that out as well. It's hard to seep into the mind of someone who cannot die. It will forever be a mystery for we who can in fact cease to exist. but as I stare in to the depths of what's left of the faint color blue in her eyes, sullen and void, a blade deep into her chest as she grips the knife's handle lightly, I might start to understand
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Chapter 1 - Fruits of Ambrosia

There was a legend about a race of humans that were quite peculiar. Among the werewolves, trolls, giants and night-lurkers, elves, dwarves and other races in Ambrosia, this particular race was quite special.

They look human, think like humans and have lived since the beginning when the 3 Goddesses created the world.

They were said to be perfect. Men and women were all beautiful. Weapons did not exist so even the term 'war' was not necessary. They need not eat, hell, they did not feel 'hunger' and their only thirst was to live and prosper as the perfect creation of the Goddesses. They were called The First Children. Well, nowadays they're known as the Fruits of Ambrosia, coined when this legend turned into a children's story called Ambrosia's Garden, written by a woman who claimed to be one of the children.

Everyone knows the story. The three Goddesses created the world with four gifts. Selcah, the gift of life. Seira, the gift of knowledge. Synthia, the gift of love. These three make up the race of Ambrosia's Fruits. Selcah gifted the race with immortality, Seira gave them the ability to learn, adapt and create. Synthia gave them emotion, feelings that the goddesses themselves harbor.

There was however, an oddity among the children who deviated from her purpose. She was very curious, to the point where she learned to tamper with the world's core to inherit the same powers the goddesses used to create the world and humanity. This alone did not satiate her curiosity, and so she kidnapped the children one by one and created beasts and monsters of different kinds. After displaying the power she obtained, she persuaded the children to rebel against the goddesses to access what they claim to be theirs; magic. With the woman leading them, they destroyed what they have sworn to protect and created more and more monstrosities.

The goddesses were filled with rage, their own creation turned against them and their gifts were sullied for power. And so, instead of gifts they were given curses. The gift of knowledge turned into the curse of lust. Their conscience shall never again be fulfilled, and they will not find true satisfaction or wholeness in anything ever again. What was once pure is now impure.

The gift of love was given a counterpart; the curse of wickedness. Happiness turned to sadness, joy turned to sorrow. The once simplest of emotions became more complicated to understand, and everything that love is was split and dissected. Now no human being can love another without selfish intent. What was once infallible, was now fallible.

The gift of life became the curse of time. Their lives now finite, they die from even the most mundane reasons. Be it an illness or loss of blood, their lives will perish and what awaits them is nothing. What was once immortal, is now mortal.

The goddesses left the world and its inhabitants, and what was once a beautiful creation turned into a shadow of what it once was. Or, what it was supposed to become. The children procreated and filled the world. They thought that if they were to die, then they must give birth to more to prolong their lives by starting again. The beasts and monstrosities that were created also harbored the gifts along with the curses, and so they followed.

The curses divided the race even more as languages started to differ, opinions and beliefs deviated and hate took over love.

Long story yes? We're almost finished. There was a small group that were not affected by the curses and retained their true forms. This race did not deal with witchcraft nor did they partake in the rebellion against the goddesses. They were still pure. And even now they roam the world.

And that's that. The legend of the world's beginning, that took place in the lands of Ambrosia, home to the greatest kingdoms that have grown in power. Travellers and merchants dream of settling in Ambrosia. Mostly for the sake of wealth and to make a name for themselves. The land of dreams.

It's such a romanticized view that anyone would believe it. But as I remember the wooden handle of the knife pierced through my little brother's nape. My father's body impaled on a spear, burned to a bloody crisp while still gripping the shard of glass he used to slice my mother's neck. I think that's a load of bullshit.

By all means, dream your dreams and live your fantasies but I will not be persuaded by such fancy words that sings the praises of Ambrosia and its wealth. It's filled with wicked men and women who look down on those outside of their kingdoms. Selfish, spoiled, sheltered shitty brats. Tell you what, the goddesses were right to leave this world.

This world isn't worth saving. It's not worth all the coin and pleasurable company one can ask for. It's not worth all the power that can be drawn from its core. It's not worth the life of my family and my village, burned to the ground, the men taken as slaves and the women as maids to fulfill the desires of the upperclass.

I won't forget that carriage. That crimson red carriage, the same size as my humble home now burnt to nothing. The emblem of a bull's horn wrapped by snakes surrounded by a burning ring.

I won't forget it, but I can't do anything about it. If I could then I wouldn't be stuck in this prison as a slave, counting the lines I carved in the brick walls with stones and human teeth. Not mine, and I didn't fight anyone either. They're the teeth of the people who were once tortured in this prison. The guards never bothered to clean after all.

Ah I forgot, today is my execution day. In the end there was absolutely no point in carving those lines, but counting them was oddly satisfying.

"seven hundred.." I faintly whisper to myself as the heavy steps of three guards march to my prison door.

I've done my sentence, and now I face my ultimate punishment. The penalty for treason is to be whipped 50 times and to be hanged on the noose until dead. If the guards want to have fun they can also whip me as I hang. After all, there are no reservations or mercy for the victim. I'm sure the public will enjoy the sight of me screaming in agony, writhing in pain and struggling to breathe.

I won't give them that satisfaction