N/A – I have returned to start writing, have wanted to do this story for a bit, takes a new look at my favourite god, Hecate, and…well you're going to have to read to find out. Setting is roughly 'The lost Canvas'
The once starry moon light skies were ablaze with hellish fire and smoke. The pure light of the full moon dare not even breech the mask of death blanketing the ravaged civilisation. The stone walls, towers, and homes that once offered protection and safety were not little more than rumble, shattered under the thunder of invasion. The stench of dead lingered in the air as corpses littered the streets below, broken and bloody. More victims of Hades' specters. None were spared. As Wyvern Rhadamanthys, adorned in his specter armor marched his way through the carnage, his empty golden eyes scanned the area. Seeking, and searching. Although his stone cut expression bared no clue, irritation flared in his eyes. The strange Cosmo energy which had first attracted him to the city was fading, growing smaller and far less detectable. In other words, escaping him! The fearsome specter did not recognize the particular aura, but he had his suspicions. The signature was little more than a blip on his radar, barely equal to that of Athena's wretched saints, but far too great to be a simple mortal civilian. But still Wyvern took no chances. If it was an Athenian Saint, Wyvern intended to snuff them out, along with everyone else in the city.
"Level the city! Burn it to the ground!" He bellowed, shouting over the roars of the flames. Like a seasoned commander, the black armored goliath continued on, in such a tone of force, even mountains would shake in submission. "Pay tribute to our Lord and Master, His Majesty, Hades!
The mass of warriors jeered in unison, before once more commencing with the pillaging and mayhem. When given an order, Wyvern followed it to the letter. And he expected his subordinates to do exactly the same. "You three!" Wyvern suddenly barked, glaring aside at a trio of his underlings. "Search the forest for survivors…" the grim tone in his words gave enough indication. They were warriors of Hades, chosen to herald death and destruction onto those their master saw fit. Neither the young, the old, the sick or the innocent would be spared. Fore only in death was there salvation. Three minor bumbling specters saluted, dashing off quickly and dividing towards the bordering forest line, whilst Wyvern him-self watch closely. Around him, there were still screams, fires raging. Death, chaos and suffering blossoming into full bloom. It was glorious. He took his time drinking it in. But it wasn't enough. Not until the skies them-selves were set aflame and the rivers ran red with Athena's blood, would Wyvern's hunger be quenched. Not until Hades held the very Erath it's self in his hand, would his loyal dark soldiers rest.
On the outskirts of the fallen city, a young woman ran for her life. Alone, it seemed she would be the only survivor, if she was not found. Dashing across the farmed fields of her burning home, as fast as her slender legs could carry her, she rushed to reach the cover of the surrounding forests, before it too was burned to ashes. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks, and if not for her choking gasps of air, she would openly sob. Yet another home lost, destroyed, as her visions had foretold. But no one believed her. No one ever believed, as her curse demanded. Yet again doom had followed her. Or so it would always seem. Despite the burning throat, she hurriedly gasped at the heated air as she ran, continuing deeper into the wooded territory. Treading bare foot through moist muddy grass, and over sharp jabbing peddles and rocks she stumbled repeatedly, scrambling to regain her footing and press on. Only covered by a white night dress her legs were already scratched and bloody. Her feet cut and bruised whilst her face and hands lashed against the over grown trees and shrubs, definitely blocking her way. The density of the forest was as thick as the dark smoke traveling overhead. It was only a matter of time until the mortal stumbled into the concealed over grown cavern below her, where the small stream seemed to flow into. Though the drop was short, the impact was hard. The stone floor as cold as ice, whilst the air was crisp and chilled. A shiver raced through her spine, jolted the startled woman to stand, as she looked before her. Nestled into the wall of the cave, stood a stone statue, unlike any she had seen before, in any temple. Definitely a feminine statue, ancient from the age old appearance of the stone, the way it seemed to have been carved. But what held her mortal's attention was the glittering spear held out in place, within the grasp of the statue, much as one would as an offering. An imposing sight to behold, as the statue was built towering over any average human. The rough stone altar before it had long since been damaged, perhaps ravaged by time and Gaia, and left to crumble.
Foolishly, the mortal woman approuched, shuffling ever closer to the apparent ruins of worship. Unconsciously shaking, she dropped to her knees before the broken altar, blue eyed gaze fixed upon the imposing three headed statue. "Spare me" she whispered, softly at first, licking her lips to steady her voice. "Spare me this pain. Have I not suffered enough? Have I not damned enough lives? Take my wretched life and be done with it, but please, spare me this grief! This madness! This curse…" Her head then hung in momentarily defeat. Softly, she cried, shutting her eyes tightly to stop her tears.
"Name your price, whatever you ask of me, I shall pay!" She hoarsly grumbled, slamming her small fist against the already broken stone slab. "Just grant me freedom from this burden…No…Grant me the strength to bear it…please…if any can hear me…answer me!" She shouted then in a stronger tone, throwing her head up high in a moment of vexing determination.
Prayer and bargaining. The last resort of the fallen.
Gazing up once more at the statue, the mortal gasped, startled by the finer detail of the statue with whom she had only just momentarily vented to. Three heads. Carved into the sides of the single prominent head, were two extra faces, edged into the sides, one flanking the left, the other mirroring the right. Mortals whispered of one deity's existence, one as old as mother earth her-self. The name was hushed, silenced, and only used in dark times. With the moon blocked out, there couldn't be any darker times.
"Hecate…" the mortal gingerly whispered, unintelligently.
What will you give me?
"What…?" Dumbfounded, the young woman glanced around the hallowed out cave. But there was no one there. But again, the voice spoke, a distinctive feminine voice, thought with no body to personify. It was as if the entity was everywhere, and yet nowhere, at the same time.
What…will…you give me? What are you willing to pay, for my power?
The woman slowly stood, gazing at the statue before her with caution. "Your…power…?" she mumbled in thought, briefly recalling the careless words she had just thrown about. But was it not what she wanted? For a god to answer her prayers…well…perhaps not a god. It was a god who so selfishly cursed her. But as distasteful as it was, it was also logically...Fight fire with fire. What one god created, perhaps another could repair. Steeling her green eyed gaze, the woman finally answered, "Anything…anything you want…".
Your heart… It spoke in such an indifferent tone.
"My…heart?" she blinked, taken back by such a blunt request. So much so her hand shot to her bosom. Against her fingertips, it dawned on her just how hard her heart was thundering within her chest. The rushing blood and thumping in her ears was almost maddening. Again the voice went on,
Yes mortal…your human heart…in exchange…I will make you a god…
"A…god?" immediately the woman grew back, protectively hugging her arms around her chest, as if the offer offended her. "No…that fate…would be far worse". Mortals were not made to be gods. There were tales and legends of madness and corruption whenever one dared to seek what the Gods held. "I may be a woman, but I am no fool!"
Her statement only silenced the voice for a moment, before spoke to reasoned that,
Gods have no fear…feel no pain…
"Nor love or control! I would rather die than become god!" she snapped rather heated for a mortal, talking to an unknown inhuman force.
Oh? The entity seemed amused by the notion. A god cannot die…unless slain by another
Now, it was the mortal who grew quiet. Startled by the scandalous thought. "I…could kill a god?" Already 'his' face plagued her thoughts in such temptation. She could have her revenge, vengeance against the one who had so cruelly cursed her.
The being this time, answered slowly…
That depends…do we have a deal…mortal?
Without a care, or a whim, the woman took no time to ponder on her answer. What did she have left to lose? Compared to what she could gain if she yielded? Her heart was such a troublesome burden, one of many she struggled to carry. Surely, it would not be missed. In a sharp brash tone, she nodded. "Yes…"
Agony erupted within her chest, as though an invisible force tore right into her, clutching onto her heart and squeezing it in its' grasp. It burned, though her cold quickly ran cold. Violent convulses gripped her body, imprisoning in with pain whilst her mind reeled under assault. She screamed, growing every more dire and strained as a bewitching green flame ignited from within, incasing her heart and spreading, like a pestilent infection. Excruciating moments passed, slowly, savoring the horrid experience when finally it seemed her body relented, numbed to the agony as the entity's hold withdrew from her chest, taking with it, the bloody clump what was the remains of her heart. The mortal's hazy vision barely registered what was seemingly held out before her, in a sick gesture of offering. The nerves within her seared with acidic burning whilst a straining ache worked its way from her throbbing mind, to her now limp legs, giving way to the floor once more. It hurt to even breathe. The cold air achingly stretching her lungs whilst her tender limps shakily tried sluggish to push her up once more. Somehow, she was still alive, though temporarily crippled by the very exercise. Clumsily her heavy hand clutched at her chest, though she felt no familiar beat. No warmth steadily coursing through her body. Only a hellish burning beginning to seep into every nerve, muscle and pour of her body. Infecting it. Changing it. All whilst the mortal was consciously feeling it. Throaty groans escaped her parted lips, and it seemed, as with her screams, they did not go unnoticed. She had been found.
"Well, look what we have here…"A imposing specter lunged into the cavern from above, followed in pursuit by his equally dark comrades. "A pretty little thing…" they jokingly sneered and grinned, believing they had cornered a simple peasant girl, hiding in the dark. "Now I'm glad Wyvern sent us out here…"
The woman gazed over at them impassively for a moment, her eyes still hazily and empty, though she was strangely indifferent, not cowering in fear as they may have perhaps thought and possibly hoped. In their excited it seemed, the specters did not notice the growing Cosmos bubbling within the cavern.
What is your name, mortal? The entity as it did before, apparently unheard by the specters.
"In one life…I was Cassandra" she whispered, finally standing up straight to steady her feet, "Now…I am Circe" she mumbled, reaching out towards the spear near beside her, still openly offered by the trio faced statue. She shakily gasped, feeling the tremor of power tantalizing coursing through her awakening ecstatic body.
No… you are neither…You are now Nemesis….And you shall be my Fury…earn your armor…Kill these specters…Embrace your destiny, as my one true champion…
A/N- well there you go, first chapter...don't go asking all these questions in reviews about 'this and that', if you have questions, stay tuned and they will be answered, as th story goes on ;)