It was a castle infested by an unnatural fog, miasma as it's known nowadays, it has long been abandoned on lands forsaken by god's hand. In the depths of the cursed fog, there was a faint pulse that glowed, a small crystalline sphere, a core, shimmering with threads of miasma that drifted like smoke, weaving into delicate, spectral tendrils. The fog thickened, winding around the core as if summoned by an evil will, each thread binding together in a slow, sinister dance, conjuring a body of shadows and glimmers.
She was barely conscious, yet something within her stirred, a longing that could not be sated. Her form, translucent and fragile, hovered on the edge of existence, half-dream and half-shadow, cradled within the miasma's embrace. If anyone were to glimpse at her right now, they might mistake her for a sleeping apparition, a young maiden sleeping, drifting between worlds.
Piece by piece, her shape took form... a faint outline of limbs, the ghostly curve of fingers, a face softened as though seen through misted glass. And through it all, her core pulsed, a heartbeat that wasn't her own but anchored her to this place, this fog, this cursed existence.
'Who am I?' The question floated up in her mind.
None answered, not even she was able to do so. Wrapped by silence and miasma pressing her as her body continued to form hidden in this cradle of evil, each thread of the mist fusing into her translucent skin. She remained still, trapped in an unnatural slumber, barely aware of herself or her strange, dreamlike form.
Time passed, though she had no sense of it, but something so sinister could only be slowly etched into this world, days, weeks, months. The fog wound tighter around her, fusing into her fragile body, layer upon layer, binding her to the cursed heart of this forsaken place. Miasma seeped into her essence, sinking deeper with each pulse of the core, and within its murmur, she heard faint, distorted whispers... fragmented echoes that danced on the edge of her awareness. They spoke in tones sharp yet distant, words lost in static, carrying memories and voices she couldn't understand but felt as if they were hers.
"Why... am I here?"
It was the second time she had some semblance of thought, coherent enough to understand it. But this time it was different, she felt something different, for the first time in her ethereal existence she felt another pulsation, her heartbeat, a real heart, that followed the pulsations of her core, the moment for her birth was imminent. Her hands twitched, her fingers curling against the ghostly mist that surrounded her. She wasn't translucent anymore. She noticed the miasma that surrounded her emanated from her own being, like a grim purplish aura.
Then, all at once, a single word emerged from the glitched whispers, clear and demanding, cutting through the fog like a blade, a loud scream resounded in her mind, a terrifying cold chilling male scream, followed by a command.
"Awaken"
As her eyes opened, she was welcomed by the unfamiliar sight of the ruins, maybe it once had been the dungeons of the castle, or some kind of underground storage room, but now crumbled the moonlight filtered through the roof, illuminating her. She could feel she wasn't alone, there were other creatures in the ruins, but she wasn't afraid at all, for some reason those existences felt as if they were inferior to her, but before she could do anything, the mysterious voice that came out of nowhere said it's final words.
"To find him, you must be at the Rock at the Land of the First Men, during the first blood moon of Autumn"
She stood up, at her feet there was a Scythe, a construct of great evil, but it was at the same time part of herself. She took it and the weapon emanated an eerie purple glow recognizing its master. She had too many things to figure out, but, the voice provided her a purpose even if she was being manipulated. A smile formed on her face.
"So be it" She said.
Her first steps were full of clumsiness, but one thing was clear, wherever she went, the fog followed her. Little did she know, that her birth had torn through the Odd of the world, the natural flow of mana that surrounded everything, and it was noticed by some figures, who were panicking at the moment.