The night's gentle breeze tickled the humble islanders as they comuted to their equally humble place of worship. They caressed their sacred pendants and eagerly shared with their youth guidance brought upon them by their beloved god. This was nothing out of the ordinary, in fact, it could be considered a daily ritual to the civilization who call themselves the Faurians.

Their bliss was captivating to say the least. How could they simply toss aside all the pain they've endured in the past like it's nothing? Their smiles spoke volumes, it was almost as if being surrounded by people they cared for in that very moment was the only thing they needed.

It's somewhat poetic. On the surface, Everyone lives in a world filled with unmeasurable vibrance where thousands believe the simple concept of being alive is a gift. In a joyous world full of colorful creations and infinite experiences to be had, we are inflicted with death and the ability to lose everything at any given moment.

"Why am I the only one who can't bear it?, The beloved deity of our people... brings me no joy"

The black haired maiden gazed into the starry sky as she suddenly closed her journal. She carefully held it against her chest and promised herself she would never show her weakness. What kind of a leader would she become? She couldn't even understand her own people let alone devote her life to the worship of a being she shares no connection to. Those were problems for her future self to solve is what she'd told herself...though she didn't quite know when exactly that future was.

She walked towards a drab tent, careful not to break her smile. A cloud of murky incense greeted her as she entered. A hanging censor whimsically spouted its contents as childish laughter filled every corner. From her satchel, the woman pulled out a dusty, antiquated textbook. The laughing children gazed up at the female figure opening the book in suspense. As she flipped the ivory pages, the distinct smell of biblichor reached the children's dainty little noses.

A calming gust trickled through the opening of the cozy tent as the children began to hush down and attentively focus on what the girl was going to say. The gentle girl, dressed in an elegant white robe, cleared her throat as she began to read.

"This is the story of the Saint king, our savior" the girl whispered in a calming voice.

"Millennia ago,

within the realm of Maisine, 4 forces clashed mercilessly. These power hungry empires sought control like starved Hyenas.

Governance over the entirety of the land was like a scrap of meat that was out of reach. If one country was at a slight disadvantage, the others would pounce at any opportunity to acquire a mere scrap of any land, opulence, or power from the others.

Consequently, all caught between one of these conflicts were dead before they had a chance to cry out."

She lifted her hands above the clunky paper layered in front of her and made a shadow puppet of a fierce beast. The children gasped upon witnessing the the shadow appear to get closer.

She giggled to herself.

"However, the land was plagued by an ancient power beyond any of the national superpower's understandings. Something beyond human-

What sort of force was this?

A purge?

A storm?

or perhaps a mist would be the best way to describe it....."

She lifted her finger for suspense, as if she was reading a horror story.

"Regardless, this mysterious bane was to bring the end of life on Maisine, in what seemed to be an inevitability. The dark, cloud-like, bloodthirsty demon that was slowly enveloping the world didn't relent. Where it covered, the water supply was undrinkable and the livestock was plagued with an unknown curse that plunged everything it put its slimy fingers onto like the grim reaper, rendering once fertile lands barren.

The privileged simply moved to their convenience and continued to enjoy a lavish lifestyle while the poor endured agony.

The less fortunate had nowhere to go, and no one to turn to. Therefore, they left the world without a trace, enveloped by the mist. In the end, having had nobody that would acknowledge or mourn their absence.

The pampered nobles and haughty royals ignored the curse that was slowly consuming the world. The seemingly frivolous cacophony of the poor mattered little to those who have only ever cared for themselves after all.

The Ethereal Empire of Elicia, otherwise referred to as The Northern Empire, was most afflicted. The dark cloud had enveloped a quarter of the once glorious nation's prided motherland- and it wasn't slowing down. To The Northern Empire, which was considered the most invincible force in the continent, this was devastating. This loss of land diminished Elicia's advantageous position in Maisine. Strategic military forts, cities, and villages fell; countless lost their lives.

The Southern Empire of Dunkirn, The Western Empire of Cirke and the Eastern Empire of Starling all immediately jumped to the ephemeral opportunity as though it was a competition of who could plunder the most. Elicia was in constant siege during its weakened, vulnerable state. The once prosperous militaristic country had fallen from glory. Even the ignorant knew it wasn't long before the Northern empire completely collapsed from the pressure of its warmongering adversaries.

However….

At the empire's time of most need, the youngest prince of Elicia, Darius de Fauria, had enough of the needless conquests that were shrouded in xenophobia and desire. He struck down all rivals and political opposition mercilessly and sat on the throne stained by their blood. Inspiring, sanguinity in his people and fear in those who dared oppose.

His tactical leadership and combat skills were unparalleled. His apparent cruelty in retribution was contradicted by his charismatic and angelic aura. Wherever he went, he inspired worship as a result of his miraculously saintly disposition. So much so, he was thought to be aided by the heavens, if not a God himself.

Darius' conquests resulted in Maisine's 4 corners being unified into Elicia.

He immediately tore down the great boundary between the rich and poor and set strict laws to prevent the abuse of anyone regardless of their status. The established code of laws became known as the red stone's wisdom, most strongly forbidding the misemployment of one's power.

However, the holy action that transformed him into a supreme symbol of divinity and absolute worship was---"

The gentle girl stopped reading the abrading leather book on her lap as a child raised his hand shakily.

"Yes?" The girl said with a gentle smile, contrasting her cold lapis blue eyes.

Her black, waist length hair fell like a pristine waterfall. In contrast, her messy bangs, which tickled her cheeks, didn't follow any rhythm. Her gaze was fierce as a tiger, but her smile and temperament were as gentle and fragile as a lily. It was clear the children looked at her with great respect and admiration.

"Sister Lucia, why are you reading this to us?" A cute boy with frizzy brown hair questioned while hugging his stuffed bear closely in fear.

The dainty tent grew silent.

"Ah well-" She paused.

She had been so immersed after seeing their initial reactions, she had forgotten that they were just kids and didn't even care to sugarcoat the more violent depictions of the textbook. Her face flushed.

She abruptly threw the book across the room. The children looked at eachother, as if they were trying to make sure everyone saw it too before their faint giggles began.

"I'll just tell you the story myself then-" she said with an embarrassed smile. Unfortunately for her, before she could compose herself she was interrupted yet again.

"What's x-xenof-obia?" A bright girl said curiously while struggling to pronounce the word.

"Was the throne covered in real blood? A freckled boy said while covering his face from the unpleasant imagery.

"Ahhhh well-" Lucia paused yet again as a drop of sweat rolled down her pale face.

She struggled to come up with a defense. No doubt, this was the greatest foe she had ever faced.

Although Lucia was to be the future Patriarch, she wasn't even a nun yet. Even so, as the daughter of their leader, everyone on the island called her sister. She had always attempted to repay her people's kindness by caring for the orphaned children.

Whether she was good at it or not was…. debatable.

She cleared her throat and grabbed the wooden sword that laid next to her with a complexion resembling a tomato.

"The great Saint King fought off the evil mist-" she exclaimed in an exaggerated tone while swinging the sword in an uncoordinated, infantile manner.

The kids laughed and crawled closer "then what happened next?"

"The mist ran away in fear upon witnessing his power and never came back!" She shouted obnoxiously while sticking the sword back into its container.

"From that day on, everyone lived in peace without fear of the dark clouds,'' she exclaimed while pulling a silver pendant from under her collar.

The mysterious pendant contained the symbol of Darius, the Saint King. A single red stone was engraved onto it. Lucia looked at it with a difficult expression. Although the kids carried similar pendants, it was clear hers was one of a kind. It almost had a sort of mysterious aura to it.

"Is that why we pray for the Saint King's blessings every day, big sister?" A child asked with glimmering stars in his eyes.

"Yes, it is"

she replied cheerfully, clapping her hands a single time to get their attention. "Ok- that's all for today kids- "

Wait, what happened to the Saint King after he saved the world?" The boy with a stuffed bear said curiously.

"Yea what happened to him-? A girl next to him asked, wanting to hear more.

"He became a hero and lived happily ever after, obviously-" another girl said in a sassy tone while rolling her big brown eyes.

Lucia laughed "yes good job" she said awkwardly. She figured the truth would be a lesson for another day.

Almost everyone knew the cruel fate that followed the Saint king after his triumph.

Were the gods displeased with his performance? Did the demon behind the mist plant a curse on him while he wasn't looking? No one quite knew the answer. Either way, after the mist faded, he fell to complete insanity. A Valiant sacrifice the future surely didn't forget.

"We have to go now big sister, it's about time for the other sisters to start the 2 hour prayer with us!" A little boy mentioned.

"I heard we were singing for the Saint king blessing today after that, I can't wait!" The youngest girl said joyfully.

"I wonder what this night's midnight mass will discuss," the boy with the stuffed bear said cheerfully while skipping out.

As they left the tent one by one, Lucia waved them goodbye for what seemed like an eternity. She continued to wave even after they had all left.

She awkwardly giggled to herself and turned around slowly.

That is, before she began banging her head into the wall repeatedly.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH THIS TEXTBOOK!"

"Demonic mist? PLEASE, IF it even existed, it was obviously just a famine that the ancient people exaggerated" She mentally screamed.

"Saint king? Just the guy who happened to fix it...BESIDES, this textbook makes him sound like a sadistic nightmare."

Lucia whipped tears from her eyes as she continued to wish someone would put her out of her misery.

She shakily pulled her private journal back out and continued to write her edgy poetry hoping her burdens would just seep into it's pages.