In the dimly lit streets of an unknown time, questions hung heavy in the air like mist swirling around her.
What age enveloped her now?
The cobblestones beneath her feet offered no answers, only echoing silence.
Were they even… cobblestones?
Not a soul stirred in the shadows, leaving her to ponder the absence of life in this mysterious world.
Was it the break of dawn or the descent of dusk that painted the sky in its ambiguous hues?
She couldn't discern the passage of time, lost in a labyrinth of uncertainty.
With each step forward into the unknown, she grappled with the haunting uncertainty of her destination.
Where was she headed in this lifeless landscape?
The streets stretched out endlessly before her, offering no clues to guide her way. Were they even called, streets?
Amidst the fog of confusion, one truth remained starkly clear - she was still breathing.
Still existing in this surreal plane of existence.
Amidst the chaos of unanswered questions, the certainty of her vitality served as a grounding beacon amid the unknown.
In the vast expanse of the desert, under the unforgiving gaze of the scorching sun, a girl with hair as pale as freshly fallen snow moved with wobbles in her steps. Her long, wavy locks danced behind her like whispers in the wind, a stark contrast against the barren landscape.
Here, amidst the desolation, the only sign of life was the blood-stained sand, littered with the bodies of the fallen and with the stench of death.
Standing amidst the carnage, she loomed like a specter of wrath, her gaze devoid of mercy or remorse. To her, existence held no purpose beyond the consuming fire of hatred that burned within her.
In the wake of destruction, she remained the lone survivor, a solitary figure cloaked in the blood of innocence.
In this desolate world, she was not merely a witness to the horrors that unfolded, but a predator, an embodiment of the… darkness that stalked the land.
Under the cold embrace of the sunlight, she bathed, the rays seeping into her very essence, chilling her to the bone. So deeply absorbed was she in this icy warmth that the sound of her name, faint and distant, eluded her senses. It wasn't until the echoes of those familiar syllables reached her ears, like whispers carried on the breeze, that she stirred from her reverie.
"Lunasia Cecil Morningstar!"
The voice, sharp and insistent, pierced through the haze of her thoughts, pulling her back to reality. With a start, she turned, eyes wide with sudden recognition, realizing that her name had been called from somewhere nearby.
The mere mention of the name was enough to send shivers down spines, the very syllables that it carried, and the weight of dread, it would end up killing anyone who dared to say her name. Yet, despite its chilling reputation, there stood someone bold enough to utter it without hesitation.
Who, then, dared to summon her with such fearless resolve? The question lingered in her mind as she turned her gaze towards the source, her expression devoid of emotion.
In the distance, a man of middle age met her stare, his features marked by a furrow of determination. Clad entirely in white, he seemed to stand out against the backdrop of the desert, a stark contrast to the crimson-stained sands. Though his presence intrigued her, she remained impassive, offering nothing more than a lifeless glance in response.
With a deliberate pivot, she shifted to meet the man's gaze, her eyes shimmering with a lethal hue of silver in her grey eyes that seemed to pierce through his very being. As her focus honed in on him, she found her vision clouded by an all-encompassing whiteness, obscuring any details of his attire or appearance.
Despite the uncertainty that lingered between them, there was a distinct absence of hostility in his demeanor. He did not bear the guise of a foe, nor did he appear veiled in deceit. Instead, there was a sense of openness, a lack of pretense that hinted at a different kind of connection yet to be revealed.
Radiating an aura of warmth and illumination, he seemed to exude a presence that was neither entirely comforting nor entirely discomforting.
As she stood before him, grappling with the surreal reality unfolding before her, she couldn't help but wonder if her senses had betrayed her, if what she witnessed was merely a figment of her fractured mind.
In the stillness of the moment, she wrestled with the disbelief that gnawed at her sanity.
Yet, here he stood, a living contradiction to the chaos she had wrought, his very existence challenging the boundaries of her comprehension.
Had she truly unleashed her wrath upon the world to the point she went insane and became the ravenous, infernal hungry monster of destruction just hours prior…?
Oh.
Lost in the relentless rhythm of battle, she found herself unable to grasp the passage of time and now… she forgot the countless moments she had spent locked in ceaseless combat.
And… she lost track of time.
"Are you aware of the century you find yourself in?" The man's inquiry was gentle, directed at Lunasia, yet she could only offer a wordless shake of her head, a silent admission of her ignorance. His gaze traversed her form, taking in the blood-soaked remnants of what had once been a resplendent golden gown, now tarnished by the horrors she had endured.
In that fleeting exchange, the man's expression softened with understanding. He saw beyond the surface, grasping the grim truth of her plight and the harrowing events that had led her to this moment.
With a knowing glance, he recognized the depths of her suffering and the weight of her burden.
The man cleared his throat, his voice weighted with solemnity as he delivered his revelation. "Lunasia, it is the eighteenth century, and you... you've been waging a relentless war and killing for six centuries now, without even a wink of sleep. Your transgressions weigh heavily upon you."
For a fleeting moment, his words seemed to pass through her ears like water, leaving barely a trace of their meaning behind.
Could she have heard him correctly?
Had it truly been so long?
The enormity of the revelation threatened to overwhelm her fragile grasp on reality.
How could she still draw breath after such an eternity of carnage?
Was it possible that this was all but a dream, a cruel figment of her imagination?
The line between reality and illusion blurred before her eyes, leaving Lunasia adrift in a sea of bewilderment.
Lunasia couldn't tell.
Thus, she cast her gaze upon the man before lowering her eyes to her hands, now stained with dried-up blood which displayed the evidence of her barbaric deeds. Even if every word he spoke rang true, there was no hint of remorse stirring within her; instead, an unsettling sense of pride mingled with a profound… loneliness.
"Where... where am I?" The words, spoken after what felt like an eternity of silence, hung heavy in the air, carrying with them the weight of isolation. It had been so long since she had engaged in conversation since her voice had found expression in the world.
With a weary sigh, the man stepped closer, positioning himself squarely before her as he offered his response. "Sechura Desert. It lies in the realm of humans," he explained, his tone weighted with a solemn authority. "I am Johnathan Gill, a deity from the heavens, come to take you with me."
Furrowing her brow, Lunasia voiced her inquiry, her words laced with uncertainty. "Have I... died?" she questioned, her tone betraying a hint of apprehension. In response, the deity offered a sympathetic smile, shaking his head gently. "No," he reassured her, his expression filled with endless pity. "You're very much alive. However, you need to come with me because you have done a great sin of taking numerous innocent lives throughout all these years that these six eras have been marked as the… 'Eras of Tragedy."
Lunasia harbored a deep awareness of the gravity of her actions, understanding the darkness that stained her soul in which she took pride. Despite the disorienting haze of time that enveloped her, she retained her clarity of mind for she wasn't naive. She recognized the figure before her not as a charlatan or deceiver, but as a celestial being sent from the heavens themselves to reckon with her sins.
"But... I am the offspring of Satan. How can I come with you and… step into Heaven? " Lunasia queried, her curiosity tinged in incredulity.
Yet, even as she spoke, the weight of her exhaustion and anguish bore down upon her, rendering the significance of her inquiries almost meaningless. She felt a weary acceptance wash over her, a willingness to follow this man wherever he may lead, to seek solace and respite until she could muster the strength to forge a path forward with renewed determination and clarity of purpose.
For now, she was as lost as the wanderer.
With a snap of his fingers, the man conjured forth a document, its form materializing from a radiant golden glow before Lunasia's very eyes. Words inscribed themselves upon the parchment in a mesmerizing display of magic. Though she did not attempt to peruse the contents, the man was not about to let her off the hook so easily. With a determined resolve, he proceeded to elucidate the purpose of the document and the destination that awaited her at his side.
"Given your lineage as the daughter of Satan, it's undeniable that you possess the infernal flame of hell within you," the man explained solemnly. "That's why your path leads to the depths of the underworld, where the souls condemned for their sins endure their penance. These souls, strangers in a world not their own, face the consequences of their actions under the watchful eye of our God. You, too, shall face judgment for the lives you've influenced."
He continued; his words laden with the weight of divine decree. "Though we cannot end your existence outright, for that would ignite a catastrophic bloodshed war between Angels and Demons, we must ensure justice is served without escalating into chaos since we can't sacrifice the peace of the human world. Thus, you shall be held accountable for your deeds until our God deems fit to determine your ultimate fate. Time is of the essence; there is no room for delay. Follow me now, for our journey awaits."
Exhaling a heavy sigh, Lunasia cast her gaze toward the sun, its rays casting a warm glow upon her weary features. In that moment, she surrendered to the current of fate, recognizing that she was adrift without direction or purpose.
With nowhere else to turn and no prospects to anticipate, she resigned herself to the path laid before her.
Besides, no pain in the world could ever hurt her for so long so, she had been ready to take in more pain if it was the only way to guide her out of an abyss that existed in her soul.
Yet, despite the weight of her burdens, she found herself prepared to face the consequences that awaited her. Even as she believed herself to have already suffered a lifetime of punishment, she steeled herself to embrace whatever further penance lay ahead.
"And... what of my father?" Lunasia's voice broke the silence, her words carrying a weight of… longing. The man halted in his stride, though he didn't pivot to face her, his gaze fixed ahead as he offered his response. "You may meet him in the depths of hell once your penance is served," he declared, his tone resolute.
With that final proclamation, the deity resumed his journey, pressing forward with a determined purpose. Without protest or further inquiry, Lunasia fell into step behind him, her footsteps a silent echo of his as she followed him patiently and quietly.
~><~*~><~
WHOOSH!
"COUGH!
COUGH!
COUGH!"
With each convulsive cough, the ground beneath Lunasia bore witness to the crimson stain left behind, a testament to the toll exacted upon her. Each expulsion of blood, forced from her lips by the relentless assault of arrows striking through her chest forged from the pure light of God, painted a gruesome tableau upon the earth in the form of scattered blood clots.
Her mouth soon became a waterfall of blood while not a single color could be seen in her clothes other than the color of blood red.
The pain was agonizing.
For the hundred and twenty-third occasion, an arrow found its target, adding to the relentless assault that left her writhing in the grip of unseen torment whenever the 'Arrow of pain' would strike her chest.
The duration of her ordeal remained a mystery, time slipping through her grasp like grains of sand.
Yet, despite the uncertainty, she believed that only two days had slipped by since the ordeal began. Sleep continued to elude her, a distant dream in the wake of her infernal might. Such were the peculiar advantages of bearing the powers of a formidable demon.
Once more, Lunasia expelled a mouthful of blood as the gates of the underworld swung open, revealing a realm gripped by relentless winter, devoid of even the slightest glimmer of warmth.
Stepping inside, the same deity approached, bearing a humble wooden basket of bread which he gently lowered to the ground before her.
With deft hands, he unshackled the chains that bound her arms above her head, allowing them to fall limply at her sides. Though the release brought temporary relief, she remained silent with no complaints invading her mind as her mind was only clouded with expectations about what awaited her next.
"How much time has passed?" she inquired, her voice barely more than a raspy whisper as if worn thin by the trials she had endured.
With a heavy sigh, the man gently rested the bread upon Lunasia's lap before offering his response. "Though it has been merely a day in this realm, a year has elapsed in the world of mortals," he explained, acknowledging the disparity between the passing of time in their respective domains.
Lunasia nodded in understanding, her acceptance tinged with resignation.
Without hunger to drive her, she picked up the bread, her fingers tracing its contours absentmindedly. There was little desire to eat, but with no other occupation at hand, she found herself scrutinizing the simple details in the loaf of bread before her, caught in the ennui of her surroundings.
"The verdict of your punishment has been rendered, and thus, you shall endure no further arrows of pain," the man announced solemnly. "I shall provide you with all the necessary details, but first, it is imperative that you refresh yourself. A meeting with several deities awaits, and your current state reeks of bloodshed. Cleanse yourself and don yourself with fresh attire. Once you have done so, I shall return to escort you."
Though Lunasia nodded in acquiescence, a gnawing sense of unease gnawed at her insides, leaving her with the unsettling impression that something was amiss.
Yet, whatever misgivings plagued her, she was certain they had nothing to do with physical suffering or mortality. With the bread still clutched in her blood-stained hands, she rose unsteadily to her feet, a tremor coursing through her limbs as she steadied herself. Taking the clothes and bathing supplies offered by Johnathan, she allowed him to guide her towards a grand river, its cascading waterfall beckoning like a siren's call in the distance.
"Though your sins weigh heavy upon you, I recognize the burdens you carry," Johnathan spoke with a hint of compassion. "You have three hours. Take the time to cleanse yourself, nourish your body, and if you so desire, rest. This sanctuary is yours alone; no one shall disturb your solitude. I will return precisely three hours from now to retrieve you."
Lunasia acknowledged his words with a solemn nod, her gaze sweeping over the desolate and icy surroundings where there was only… loneliness.
Here, in this solitary expanse, she found a reflection of her fractured soul - isolated and shrouded in darkness. As if the darkness itself crowned her as its heir.
At sixteen, her world had been filled with nothing but the innocence of childhood play, and clumsiness, yet now, the weight of countless years bore down upon her… erasing even the certainty of her current age in her mind.
"Why is there no one here to face punishment?" Lunasia queried, her voice echoing softly against the serene backdrop of the riverbank as she set down her belongings.
"This place serves a different purpose," Johnathan explained, his tone tinged with solemnity. "You have been granted sole access to this sanctuary within the underworld, a haven where you may find respite from the weight of your sins. Unlike others, your transgressions are of a magnitude that places you in the seventh level of the underworld, far removed from those facing punishment in the first three levels of the underworld."
Lunasia's as white as snow brow arched in surprise, a flash of inquiry poised on her lips, but before she could voice her question, the deity preempted her with a response. "Indeed, the underworld of Heaven consists of only seven levels, placing you in the most challenging tier," he explained, his tone betraying a hint of astonishment. "It's remarkable to see you still standing after enduring centuries of ceaseless conflict and bloodshed, both among humans and supernatural beings. Regardless, take this time to rest. You have a demanding day ahead after your three-hour respite. Make the most of this brief reprieve."
With those words of guidance, the deity departed, leaving Lunasia to watch his retreating figure with a contemplative gaze as he vanished into the air, leaving only white shimmers behind him which also soon faded away.
With a heavy sigh, Lunasia shed her blood-stained golden dress, once a symbol of beauty now reduced to a tattered relic of her tumultuous past. It lay discarded, a testament to the wreckage of her former life.
Stepping into the icy waters, she watched as they mingled with the crimson hue of the blood she had shed so callously. Submerging herself completely, she closed her eyes, allowing the cool water of the river to envelop her weary form.
In the tranquility of the water, she found solace, her troubled mind finally quieting as exhaustion claimed her.
With each gentle ripple, she surrendered to sleep while embracing herself, the burdens of her sins momentarily forgotten in her dreamless slumber.