Outside the windows of a small wood and brick home, sheets of rain could be seen as it bashed at the walls and thumbled the rooftop, the winds howling loudly as they desperately tried to uproot and destroy the small cottage. A woman screamed with her family by her side, her loved one holding her hand throughout the process. Life, the god of the physical world, phased through the gray stone of the fireplace. He was but a specter in this state, a mirage unseen by the living. Skin of gold, eyes and hair of life-like green. As the child entered the world, time became set at a standstill. The god approached, and with loving eyes, kissed the child on the forehead. Such a small babe, covered in blood and purple in appearance. Smaller than her siblings when they first came to, she was the symbol of fragility that he had always admired from the human race. Weak creatures, always doing strong things. He held out his hand, and blew on his palm. Gold became glitter as his breath transferred to the child. Time unfroze and the baby gulped in the precious air. The final process for life was complete. Gold and green mists floated about in the air, a drifting aroma unseen by people, but felt all the same. The magic of new life touched everyone, whether they cared to admit it or not. But the baby was purple. Too purple. The air around them changed as the gray of the outside storm seeped into the cozy home. Gold mist became silver, and green became black. Death, he was already here to witness the ceremony. He always came in so suddenly, and unannounced, none-the-less. A jet-black skeleton, eyebrows and jaw adorned in many small blood-red rubies. Of course, no death would be complete without a scythe. Its handle was made of old, rotted cypress wood and its blade of flawless silver. It was time.
"Are you ready?" Death said to his opposite counterpart. Life's eyes turned to the figure with a sad expression. Soft green eyes met with the glowing silver slits floating in the abyss of death's skull.
"Not yet, just one more." Life said in a calm, confident tone. Death was growing impatient.
"Hurry up, so that I can kill you. I don't want you to-" Death was silenced by hushing coming from Life's lips.
"I would rather fade away, than give it to someone who didn't deserve it." Life said. Death's slits sharpened before returning to normal.
"You won't fade away. Now, hurry."
Life looked at the child one more time. Though it was weak and dying now, it had a good family to help nourish it back to health. And so, Life departed from the cottage, and so did death. In the rain, it was cold. Mud stirred as the blackness of night hovered. Not even the moon could break through the dense clouds. Life soared around high in the downpour, attracted to the sight of a ragged woman, crying and muddy and cold. She was in great pain, dark patches under her eyes showed how worn she was. She, too, was about to give birth. She had nowhere to go, nobody to see. She was alone. She focused closely, unsure of what even to do. As the process went on, it became almost unbearable. Blood, too much blood! Grime and mud, everywhere! As she held the child in her arms, the fatigue of blood loss set in as Death consumed her, her soul a brilliant indigo gemstone in his hands. A gem forged of sad memories. He took the stone, and gently dropped it in his pouch. As for the child… she slid into the puddle beside her mother, cutting her head on a small rock. She became drenched in the water, cold, shivering, and freezing. With no mother's warmth or voice. A child, born with no caretaker. a child, born in mud, blood, and icy rain. Life leaned down towards the child, tears falling from his face, sprouting plants on the ground beneath him. The baby's cries broke out strongly through the muffling sound of the heavy rain. How was this child still alive and kicking, unaided by him? This child… is strong.
"I have made my decision. She is the one. Go ahead."
Death slowly approached the god from behind. He paused, frozen in thought, before raising his weapon.
"Thank you, Alaric."
"It was a pleasure, Severin."
With one slash, the god was cut in two. As the halves hit the ground, golden blood leaked into the water the baby was struggling in. The gold seeped into her being, her eyes morphing from a deep blue to an energetic green. Death took life's gemstone, an emerald enwrapped in pure gold. His silver eyes relaxed upon seeing the jewel, he was afraid that from the body, nothing would come. He admired his old friend's soul before putting it in his pouch to return it to the natural order. He crouched down, just as Alaric had done before him.
"I hope your path will be treacherous and difficult, young one. But against all odds, I hope you may succeed." The reaper said "So that you may break this vicious cycle."
And with that, his darkness returned to the night.
That night, the monks and priestesses of the nation of Glemir spread the word around to the cities, towns, and villages: the god of life had been assassinated, cut in half from where he sat in meditation all day long. It happened suddenly by an invisible force with many witnesses to tell the tale. Death was the only culprit. He alone was to blame.
Years later, a golden-haired girl was training with her friends. In this world, many unique hair colors were natural. But her hair was not blonde, it was made of a special gold. Called living gold, it was useful for its properties in alchemy. She had to sell her hair to make a living before taking up an oath under her lady, Lady Eleanora. She was one of the lady's many dogs, who did literally anything for her. She was rather picky with everything, as of late, as she was fighting with others to rank up the hierarchy once again. Lady Eleanora wanted nothing short of the throne in this matriarchy. She developed a great sense of patience, refining her etiquette, refining her public speaking, and developing her magic. It was the females in this world that could use magic, males could not. They instead developed the power of alchemy, but only a select few could utilize it effectively, while every girl and woman could use magic with ease. With alchemists few and far between, they were sought after, and usually enslaved. This caused an even greater decline in alchemy users, those with a higher affinity hiding their talent and letting it lay to waste. Ignorance was better than death by overworking. She had once known a boy who wasn't so lucky. He was a young boy of seven years old, turning rocks into sugar candy for the children he was playing with. Two days later, the boy was in chains, and his parents were carried off on a horse. Dead. Why was she thinking about this? Was it because of the other slave boy that had just arrived? It didn't matter. It didn't concern her. And yet she couldn't help but feel a little bad…
The weight of wind flattened her onto the ground. "Stop daydreaming, Null. Get your head in the game!" Britannia said, snapping her fingers to get Null's much needed attention. "It's like you're just going through the motions again! What's gotten into you?"
Britannia looked in the direction of Null's eyes, only to see a thin young man of about fifteen years in chains being escorted. Lady Eleanora's "pet". He looked stunning, but so scared. He was crying for some unknown reason.
"Really?" Britannia remarked.
"I-it's not what you think! I swear!"
"Yeah, sure. You'd rather be looking at boys than protecting the people paying you. I see how it is."
Null couldn't think of a rebuttal, so she just stood up and wiped the dust off of her before grabbing her spear. Time to kick some ass.