Forum Thread

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Isla Greer

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"I'm not leaving you, per se-" Isla ran her hand through her hair, ever so gently. "I'm just saying I can't stay. I don't expect you to understand. It's not about you or me, it's about..."

Her other hand gripped her shirt, bunching it up. In her chest, magic no longer glowed. And with it gone, things were far clearer to her than they'd ever been. The messages of danger blooming in her heart, and in her soul.

"I'm not trying to hurt you," Isla told her. "I'm sorry. I really do..." She tried to think of what to say. Something that would stop the thing writhing in her chest.

"Do you love us?" Adrik asked. He sounded as if his heart was breaking.

Isla looked him in the eyes. "No," she lied. "And I never have."

He made a noise. Isla didn't know how to interpret that, so she just looked down. "I'm sorry."

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Aret wanted to cry. But she knew that Isla wanted to cry more.

After all, she could hear the hearts of her people. And Isla was no different. Her true feelings and emotions could be read clearly by the Saint Deity.

But even so, it would be one cold millennium in Macedon. Even now, the clouds swirled around in the sky, darkening the world around them. "Why...?" It wasn't much, but it was all she could manage at the moment, still processing everything.

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Isla Greer

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"Faith," she told her. "I have faith. And while I do, the eyes will always be on me. I can't stay here."

She tasted blood in the back of her mouth.

Otherwise, they'll sew your eye shut with your hair. She gently ran her fingers through those glorious golden locks. Stay here... and live.

Slowly, she pushed herself to her feet. The place where her magic had been echoed hollowly in her chest, no longer able to supplement her muscles even through the dredges of humanity one retained with necromancy. She imprinted the image of those two precious people in her mind.

The Saint, sad, but understanding. Deep down, she knew, just as Isla did. Two beautiful eyes. Of a colour that Isla believed she'd still see dancing behind her eyelids every time she slipped into sleep.

Adrik, heartbroken. Broken glasses, scar down his eye, overgrown brown hair. She imprinted each of those details into her memory.

When she turned around, she still felt their presences behind her.

But she walked. And kept walking.

Leaving them behind.

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Adrik Volkov

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Leaving me behind.

Just the way it always was. And always would be. He watched her go, back to him, and he wondered exactly where he'd gone wrong. Had he failed her? Not saved her in time? Been just a few seconds too late to bring back the light in her eyes?

Or had he always failed? Had it been too long for him to awaken his magic? Had he been cowardly enough to let her soldiers die and that's why she hated him?

Was it everything?

Was it him?

Tears dripped down his face. She wasn't crying. Shoulders back, perfect soldier's posture. A queen, a ruler, walking away from him, head held high.

And so he inheld the sobs trying to tear themselves from his chest.

At least once... he could be strong for her. Once, he could not fail her.

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"Shut up, writer. You're mean. I don't like you."

Kendo waved off the death voodoo curse that came from the consumption of a Big Mac.

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Aret looked at Adrik. The only one left she could confide in was him- they shared how they felt.

A piercing wind blew threw the land, and snow began to fall. Aretstikaphaniela watched on with a blank expression while Isla walked away, wings tucked neatly into each other on her back.

"Adrik..." Her voice sounded cold. Betrayed. "Let's go."

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Adrik Volkov

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"Alright, I guess." He recognised the voice as belonging to him. "Let's go. I don't really think she wants us here."

Did she ever?

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She snapped her fingers. Waiting for a new castle would've been tedious, she used her magic to make it go faster. Pieces flew together and fused, forming the walls of the castle, taking shape and beginning to float.

Once it was done, it looked just as grand, if not more so than before. Small crystals floated to the entrance- the steps. She didn't need to use them, but she figured anyone else would. "Come on." She flew inside.

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Iteral felt very... out of place, kind of. With Isla leaving and the Saint growing colder (literally) and partially robbing her of her job while the atmosphere grew cold. Despite the happy ending, she felt this might have repercussions... so, unsure, she leaves Isla with the following. "Should you ever reconsider, the gates are open for you." With an elegant swing of the staff, the architect not only summons a little pocket watch in Isla's hand but also redecorates parts of the castle, imbuing them with more class, magic or both.

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(Timeskip, one year.)

The palace was very cold. Everyone had taken to wearing warmer clothing, seeing as though the freeze would be semipermanent.

All except one, of course. The source of Macedon's seemingly endless winter.

The Saint Deity sat on her icy blue and white throne, staff in hand. She had a frown, almost a scowl on her face at all times. She was dressed in thin white silk, her halo shining dimly above her head like a golden crown. Instead of ten wings, only four sets were sitting tightly against her back, brushing the cushion of where she sat. "What is the progress of the statue in the main hall? Have they finished yet?" Unlike the others, her breath wasn't visible when she exhaled. She herself was as cold as the surrounding area. Snowflake-like patterns circled around the floor, creating colorful reflections that hit the crystalline inner walls.

Her voice had changed just as much as she had. As did her personality and morals. She had become a different Deity.

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"It's so cold..." The former Saint Deity whispered, clinging to the newborn in her arms. She was laying in bed, and while she gave off a pleasant warmth that spread throughout the cottage they now lived in, she felt like dozens of icicles were going to pierce through her skin at any moment. She was awfully pale and sickly, sweating profusely despite how frosty she felt.

But despite her illness, she couldn't be happier. Without the weight of the world on her shoulders, she could do now what she couldn't dream of before- which was to have her own family. "She's so cute... She looks just like her father." She smiled softly and turned to Kendo.

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Lilith had matured over the years. The battle has toughened her, causing her to grow up quicker than she was supposed to. She had watched Iteral and Lean, Adrik, Kendo and many others fight to overcome the obstacles, to claim back what was theirs. And they had. They had saved the Saint Deity. They had restored the castle. Happily ever after. Right? Yeah, like hell you were right. Macedon had been changed, forever. And it was all Isla’s fault. But what could she say? Once a Legion member, always a Legion member. This who predicament they were in? All Isla’s fault. The once kind, lovable Saint Deity turned into nothing more than a heartless queen. She hated all the Legion members. If none of that shit had happened, then perhaps things would have turned out different. She wished Lean was here. Lean would understand how she felt. But for now? She took off, flying through the sky, savoring her freedom as nothing more than an insignificant bird soaring through the sky.

"We are almost done, Saint Deity. The final thermal test just finished." Iteral replies, looking into her little clipboard and tilting her head slightly. In contrast to her, she withstood the test of time and retains more aspects from the past. She was dressed the least winterly, wearing black/grey all over her body. Black shirt, overcoat, lace-up boots, pants, even scarf. The only thing that isn't a shade of grey/black on her body are the "Mark of the Stars" that she attached on aforementioned coat, shirt and boots. They sparkle as well, though this time with a little help from the winter wonderland that this world has become. The architect looks ahead at the hall they were in... a little heat would do it well. Then again, heat would also do the Saint Deity well... but she gave up on that idea some time ago.

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Adrik Volkov (FUTURE)

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It was the anniversary. Adrik sat by the edge of a pond, mindlessly stirring it up with his toes. Small fish darted around, pecking at his heels and retreating upon finding nothing of substance. It was enough to bring a weary smile to his face, even in light of everything that had happened.

He was in a stone garden. All around him, beautiful trees and bushes bloomed, creating the sort of carefully controlled ecosystem that rich people seemed to love so much.

Now that Adrik had more money than he knew what to do with, he supposed that that should be him. But he’d never really had the taste for the macabre.

“I wonder if the Saint does.”

The title was bitter on his tongue. Saint? Some Saint. Weren’t leaders supposed to take care of their subjects? Not steal the one person in the world who still loved them?

He recognised that wasn’t fair, but since when had anything been fair to anyone? Hannah was dead. Isla was exiled. The Saint had won and Legion had lost.

Everyone said it was a good thing, and maybe it was. But Adrik couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if… if…

That wasn’t the train of thought a god’s adviser should be having.

But damn it all, if I can’t be selfish just once.

He brought his foot down in the water and a wave rose up. He watched it crashed against the side of the pond and then climbed back out and headed for the castle, bare feet leaving behind footprints on the stone steps.

Isla's Garden was the one warm place left in Macedon.

As if she'd ever brought anything like warmth to any person in this frozen wasteland.

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Setsuna Jun (FUTURE)

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Tw:// Gore, suicide ideation, mental illness, just Setsuna messed up in general.

Sometimes, Setsuna still heard Her voice. He knew he was wrong to be hearing Her voice. He was hallucinating as the doctors said. She wasn't actually there.

Then he was supposed to cope. He was supposed to breathe in and breathe out and tell the voices to stop. That would make them go away. But he knew the doctors were wrong, because She didn't go away. And She was the only voice.

The only one in the entire world.

You killed me. You murdered me.

"I did, I did," he whispered.

My blood felt good, didn't it? My organs, my bones melting into a delicious gooey mess. It felt like a bucketful of jam. You must've wanted to taste it, huh? Rub it all over your mouth, lick it dry till all that was left was the taste of dust and my brain matter in the back of your throat. It was so lovely for you.

"No, never, never. Never wanted it, never wanted it."

Your own lovely little taste of Sainthood. You always claimed you were a good person, that's how you convinced me to love you. But you couldn't have enough, so you took out my still beating heart and took my love.

"Took it, took it, took it," he chanted obediently.

I love you so much.

"Love you too." He closed his eyes and a single tear trickled down his face. "I... love you too Chiara."

Why should he tell her to go? She was the world, after all. His world. And the faceless doctors and their hallucinations and their breathing exercises and their coping could burn all the way to the ground.

She was dead, and nothing could warm him more than her words, spoken in her beautiful and dainty voice with all its blood and glass and shrapnel.

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Isla Greer (FUTURE)

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Tw:// GORE

Blood dripped down an arm and silently fell and hit the floor. Each time it did, a ping rang out in the air. The arm hung limply over the edge, the face it belonged to hidden by shadows.

Far off in the distance, a bird cawed, its heavy cry drifting in through the open window of the inn. The sun was just starting to rise, and the faint light started to illuminate the room.

It climbed up the floor, over the arm, over the knife that lay bloody and still on the bed.

And onto the face of the person.

Isla Greer looked peaceful in her sleep, didn't she?

But the eyelids looked sunken. And if you looked deeper, you'd realise there was nothing behind them at all. Only a mess of blood, a very very hollow eye socket, sewn shut by her own bloody brown hair.

And on the brick wall, an eye slowly opened. A bloody mouth spread in a grin, and in a flash and a blink it was gone.

A knock came from the door. An urgent one that grew more and more urgent with each passing moment of silence.

With a bang, the band of mercenaries stormed in, and came to a stop in front of the bed. The leader started forward first. He flipped her over onto her other side, and felt the mat of blood on the back of her skull.

"Dead as a doornail. Someone nailed her before we could. Mighty nasty way too. Took out her eyes and her tongue.”

“Must’ve really hated her, huh?”

“I guess so.”

A book sat on the bedside, and for a few minutes, they sat, flipping through it.

And when the light finally illuminated the room, it was awash in black blood.

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"...yeah. She's wonderful. Just like you."

Kendo laughed quietly. He wore a fluffy blue hoodie, along with a red scarf. His smile was bright, his gloved hands in his pockets. His hair had gotten lighter, closer to silver. He'd grown it out further, but had tied it into a ponytail behind him.

"...but actually, what is up with this temperature?"

He sighed, snapping. A blue fire lit up in the fireplace, giving off some semblance of warmth throughout the house.

He reached out, gently holding the newborn. He smiled, kissing the child on the forehead.

He laughed.

"I think she looks more like you, really."

He sat down next to her on the bed.

"At least we got our happy ending."

He murmured the last part.

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"I want it finished tonight." She demanded, standing up and walking away. She had become lost in her thoughts for only a moment, letting her guard down for no more than a second. The world would remember how much it had hurt her. The people who had done nothing to help her would pay. She had become so distrustful of everything around her, she couldn't even trust herself. The front doors of her castle opened, and she could see the white and evergreen land below.

Despite everything she had been through, she wasn't happy. She wanted desperately to put her mind at ease. But there was a question that haunted her. It crossed her mind every day, and in her dreams, she was asking it to every vision.

She took a deep breath of the icy air. It was the only thing that wouldn't change. The realm of ice is the realm of stasis, after all.

It was quiet out. She could see Adrik walking back, and her scowl lifted slightly. Within her mind, the question had become prominent enough to slip through her lips and escape into the wind, carried away by the snowflakes that held her secrets for so long.

"Is this what you wanted, Legion? Isla?"

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"...okay, this is getting absolutely ridiculous."

Kendo stood up abruptly, his hands in his pockets.

"What the absolute hell are the kids doing?"

He muttered angrily, running a hand through his hair.

He turned back to Mona, a grin back on his face.

"Mona, do you want to visit the new Saint, or are you still too tired?"

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Iteral nods in accordance, leaving the hall and going to the construction that would become a statue. Some thoughts ran through her mind, some less harmful like asking if Lean had some time to visit... all the way to, if the Saint Deity was happier during her imprisonment, compared to now. A little swirl with her finger and some ticking sounds later, the statue finished building, almost by itself. Another icy testament to how much the land has fallen to frost...

a visible sigh. She'd been doing her best for both Saints for almost a year now and, as much as the current Saint Deity seems to close herself off in her chilled casket, Iteral likes to think that her actions prevented anything worse from happening.
Was it a lie she told herself? Maybe. But in this tundra, it's one that keeps her warm at night.

She returns to deliver the message of the finished construction. "It's done." That's all she said.

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