![]() “Pay close attention, my dear niece, because I care for you deeply. Her eyes danced with serious intent and a hint of something darker-unpredictable and callous-a sinister whisper that echoed through the fading dreamscape, mocking the vulnerability of the moment. The once dreamlike ambiance dissolved, like sugar in a bitter brew, as she fixed her gaze upon her foolish niece with a sincerity that could outlast time itself. My divine spark within them cleaved, they are mine!” the Crone avowed, as veil’s shadows tensed, her words a looming threat to the divine, and verily, they were.Ĭirce drew in a breath, deep and rich with twisted glee, her power pouring forth like a symphony of chaos, shattering the dream that once dwelled within the veil and dismantling the enchantment’s hold. In kindness, I sought to mend, yet erred, and split her essence, birthing daughters two. “Aye, dear aunt, thy skill upon that soul wrought cruelty, indeed. Mine own, they shall remain, henceforth and evermore,” the goddess retorted to the Primordial, her aunt, Magic, with unwavering care. “In truth, no child I took, but two daughters I brought forth. Release that malevolent child you have taken in, lest it consumes you completely and incurs the wrath of other divine beings,” Circe implored. “Dear niece, you have wandered into forbidden territory, dabbling with forces far beyond your control. “What curious wind has blown you here to my abode?” the Goddess of Dreams and Nightmares inquired, suspicion dripping from her tongue. Into the hilltop hut she stepped, where, at a table, niece did sit, ever watchful of her presence. But her fretting proved for naught, as door creaked, groaned, and opened, unbidden. There, upon the threshold, Magic faltered, courage failed to knock. In Magic’s mind, the ends excused her means, and naught would halt her quest to mend her past. All to keep them from astral streams untamed, at the cost of myriad souls, she’d act. Whole planets, moons seized, to sate the twisted whims divine, and save her sister’s creations from oblivion. And so, Magic thieved, collecting from realms unseen, amassing cosmic plunder. Mortals warring on their behalf proved better, as their souls bore reincarnation’s gift. ![]() ![]() Were these imitations to fall in petty battles, Magic would rejoice yet, her sister’s works lay ’mongst the victims. Cataclysm claimed nearly all their kind, leaving but mortal-born shades of godly ascendants, scarce upholding the realm’s affairs. Of the divine few remained, in Death’s stead she strove to serve. Into the abyss Death vanished, never to return, while Magic toiled through endless eons, her errors to unlearn.Īt her niece’s quaint abode’s brink did Magic linger, Goddess of Dreams and Nightmares, a Sovereign within the veil, the Crone so known. But the damage was done, and only a few remained, the realm tainted and stained. Death mourned the loss of Life and ended the strife, shattering the Eldritch into tiny pieces, ending their dark life. In a bid to end the war, Life intervened, but her actions proved futile, and she vanished beyond the veil, forever silent. Their war engulfed the realm and the heavens, leaving destruction in its wake, the gods powerless against the Eldritch cruel takes. ![]() The Great Cataclysm arose, a war that never ceased, Titans and Eldritch fought and battled, leaving nothing to mend or appease. Magic was among the first three creations, a Primordial, bearing witness to the birth of titans and gods with joy and elation.īut envy soon consumed her, and she tampered with creation, giving rise to the Eldritch, a cruel manifestation of Magic’s bitterness and itch. She was a force beyond comprehension, neither Life nor Death, but an equal with power beyond mention. Deep within the veil, where dreams and horrors intertwine, Magic flowed freely, unbound and divine.
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