Lonely Spirit
The Tale of a Cursed Bride
-DISCLAIMER: PristonTale and all related locations, creatures, and, erm, jobs, are property of Triglow Pictures. All character names are fictional, and any resemblance to real-life characters, Pristonian or no, is entirely unintended.
The sun, a golden globe of light, shone down on the beautiful continent of Priston. Fresh green grass bent and swayed in the wind as fluffy white clouds sailed lazily across the sky. All the inhabitants of the blessed land were always happy and were friendly toward each other, but none were so elated as one young woman by the name of Diana Whitewind...
For it was her wedding day.
Diana, a raven-haired Atalanta, came from a wealthy Morion family of pious Priestesses, powerful Magicians, and strong Valkyries. As she grew up, her parents had doted on her, letting her roam free in the valley below the floating city of Phillai and buying her the best equipment made by the finest smiths in Priston. They lived in the upper-class section of Phillai, a place with stately mansions, austere temples, marble statues, and great universities and museums. All Morion had a love of knowledge and magic which was matched only by their friendly rivals, the Tempskrons' passion for technology and exploration.
The elder Whitewinds had arranged a marriage to the finest of men, a noble paladin who had also possessed an influential background. Diana and her husband-to-be befriended each other immediately, so both families were positive that it would be a good match.
And that is how the huge bronze wedding bells of the High Church of Phillai came to ring for Diana Whitewind.
At the moment, Diana was wearing a plain wool dress, fetching last- minute groceries from a bustling market in the peasant district for the wedding feast. Her hair was tied back in two simple ponytails, though the brown fabric and absence of jewels did not diminish her beauty. The air was filled with the chatter of commoners walking along the streets and the laughter of children mixed with the honking and clucking and mournful bleating of livestock to be sold at the meat stand. Stepping to and fro and slapping away the groping hands of lecherous young men, she picked up several pounds of strawberries and oranges, balancing the heavy baskets on her head and hips.
As Diana was making her way back to her parents' mansion, she felt someone tugging at her sleeve. She ignored it, thinking it was some magician mistaking her for his sister. The tugging came again, more insistent now, and she turned to the direction from which the tugging came. "Hello?"
Instead of a teenage acolyte, there was a diminutive old woman draped in colorful fabrics. Diana groaned inwardly. Desert gypsies. Straining to keep her impatient nature in check and balance the baskets at the same time, she said, "Good day, ma'am."
The gypsy smiled. Diana, who was slightly condescending of the old and the sick, winced. Several of the elder's teeth were missing. Not noticing, the gypsy woman replied in a thin voice, "Good day...Diana."
Diana wondered for a moment how the peasant knew her name, but decided not to dwell on it. More important things were waiting to be accomplished. She quickened her pace, hoping to make it back to the kitchen on time and to change before her parents found out she had been wandering Phillai under the guise of a scullery maid. The gypsy, too, quickened her pace to match the younger woman's, then said, as if nothing had happened, "This isn't your destiny, is it, dear?"
Diana stopped cold. "What?"
"You don't want to get married, do you?"
"Well..." she had to think on that one. "Yes...no...it doesn't matter, but my parents told me it was best..."
"Dear, dear..." the old woman shook her own head. "What a waste of talent. All that time adventuring in the Valley and you don't put it to use but, rather, aim to become a prissy noblewoman whose life is frittered away by sewing, parties, and balls?"
"Talent?"
"Your strength, my dear. You could be so much, but, no, you let all that training you did as a child go to waste and instead let your mind shrink to a shallow pool of superficial thought. Run away, my child, and find your true self."
"You must be kidding." Diana shook her head. "I can't do that, not now! Everyone will be mad at me and say no."
"Who said you needed permission to leave? That knight is not your destiny."
"I said no! You're just a silly gypsy woman, anyway! You've lost your mind, haven't you?" Diana elbowed the fortune-teller aside. "Leave me alone."
As she watched the atalanta hurry away, the old woman sighed, "Poor Diana..."
Once she had shipped the food to the cook and changed into a robe of pale blue silk, Diana hurried to the dining room of her home. Seeing her disturbed expression as she ate her breakfast of diced doral eggs, Mother asked, "Are you all right, dear?"
Diana poked her eggs. "Fine..."
But something about that gypsy woman had scared her...
All too soon, the time of the wedding arrived.
The bride, looking resplendent in her iridescent wedding gown, looked up at the sky with a joyous smile upon her lips. Her lightly tanned face shone golden in the sunlight, and the ruby-red hair hidden beneath her lacy veil was slightly ruffled by the gentle breeze. The wedding was outdoors, in the Grand Phillai Plaza. All the guests were standing or sitting in elegantly carved wooden benches, their feet making no noise as they stood in the stone-paved square. Even those who had not been personally invited were standing from high balconies, watching with slack jaws and wide eyes. Tame dragons flew above the wedding square, cawing, as garishly fletched birds trapped from exotic locales fluttered about the plaza.
The groom was dressed in shining silver armor, his face calm and his eyes gentle. A dazzlingly blue cape swept the ground as he stood before the Saintess performing the ceremony, waiting for his bride-to-be to walk down the red carpet laid before her.
Her father on her arm, Diana walked, with the grace of a swan, over the pathway. Diamond and silver earrings clinked softly as her head nodded with immeasurable poise. Finally, she stopped, and Lord Whitewind gave his daughter to her waiting husband.
The Saintess's voice was deep and rolling as she read her speech. "Dost thou, Gaelethor Starbreak, take Diana Whitewind as thy wife?"
"I do."
The blonde cleric then turned to Diana. "Dost thou, Diana Whitewind, take Gaelethor Starbreak as thy husband?"
Diana, opened her mouth to say, "I do," but nothing came out.
Patiently, the other woman repeated her line. "Dost thou, Diana Whitewind, take Gaelethor Starbreak as thy husband?"
Again, Diana opened her mouth, but again, nothing happened.
Her arching brow furrowed, the Saintess spoke a third time. "Dost thou-"
She never got a chance to finish the sentence. A clawed hand encircled the cleric's throat, digging its long black nails into the pale skin. Suddenly, it let go, and the priestess fell to the ground. A loud scream came from the crowd, and several of the noblemen brushed past the shocked couple to check if she was all right.
"Look, look!" A child broke free of his frightened mother's restraining grip and pointed at the sky. "Look!"
They all looked. The sky, which had been light blue, had deepened to an angry, puckered blue-black. Thunderclaps resounded as the clouds, now dark and swollen, spat out laughing bolts of white-hot lightning. One by one, the citizens were struck down as their neighbors frantically tried to flee. The wind now howled and raged, tearing apart lampposts and whipping the bride's veil from her face.
The bride and groom clung to each other, but a hand, the same that had choked the priestess, wrung the neck of the paladin. His head snapped back in death, and his eyes, glassy and staring, reflected the rage in the sky.
"No...nooo..." Diana's eyes were wide and shining with tears. Her hands, nerveless, let go of her dead knight, and she sank to the charred ground, her once lovely gown spotted with tears, blood, and ash. Her neatly styled hair now hung in lank, windblown clumps, and tears smudged the blush on her cheeks as she looked at the ruined wedding around her.
The hand appeared a third time, and this time Diana was glad, for she now wished for death. But the hand did not move as an arm clothed in dark fabric sprouted from it, followed by the body of an enrobed creature of boundless evil.
The face of the being was sneering, though handsome, and his eyes were a bloody red. He knelt beside the weeping bride, his hooded face staring at her with a mocking look upon it.
"Ssso...do you hate me?"
A hand, nails, painted with pearly white polish, lashed out at the revolting face. Angry red slashes appeared on the demon's cheek. "Of course I hate you!" Diana stood up backing away from him, her face contorted and her eyes laced with pain. "You killed my husband...you killed my family...you ruined my wedding! You destroyed my life!"
"But isssss your dessstiny to be married off at your tender age of sixteen to a nobleman? To be a haplesss lady within the wallsss of your disssgussstingly large mansssion?" The creature strode toward the cowering bride. "No...you have defied your fate, dear poppet, and now you shall pay the price."
"That was...that was just a fortune teller! Everything they say is false! I don't believe you!" Diana clutched her head and shook it vigorously. "This is just a nightmare...this isn't happening..."
"Don't deny it, poppet." The demon stroked Diana's trembling cheek. "You were warned, and your destiny is ultimate. I should sssay that it was quite fitting for you, a sssstrong woman, to bear thisss..."
Then, he disappeared in a puff of red smoke. The clouds softened, their burdens unleashed, and as they lightened to grey, a light drizzle fell upon the ravaged city. Diana was left alone, carrying uncountable sorrows within her breast.
-DISCLAIMER: PristonTale and all related locations, creatures, and, erm, jobs, are property of Triglow Pictures. All character names are fictional, and any resemblance to real-life characters, Pristonian or no, is entirely unintended.
The sun, a golden globe of light, shone down on the beautiful continent of Priston. Fresh green grass bent and swayed in the wind as fluffy white clouds sailed lazily across the sky. All the inhabitants of the blessed land were always happy and were friendly toward each other, but none were so elated as one young woman by the name of Diana Whitewind...
For it was her wedding day.
Diana, a raven-haired Atalanta, came from a wealthy Morion family of pious Priestesses, powerful Magicians, and strong Valkyries. As she grew up, her parents had doted on her, letting her roam free in the valley below the floating city of Phillai and buying her the best equipment made by the finest smiths in Priston. They lived in the upper-class section of Phillai, a place with stately mansions, austere temples, marble statues, and great universities and museums. All Morion had a love of knowledge and magic which was matched only by their friendly rivals, the Tempskrons' passion for technology and exploration.
The elder Whitewinds had arranged a marriage to the finest of men, a noble paladin who had also possessed an influential background. Diana and her husband-to-be befriended each other immediately, so both families were positive that it would be a good match.
And that is how the huge bronze wedding bells of the High Church of Phillai came to ring for Diana Whitewind.
At the moment, Diana was wearing a plain wool dress, fetching last- minute groceries from a bustling market in the peasant district for the wedding feast. Her hair was tied back in two simple ponytails, though the brown fabric and absence of jewels did not diminish her beauty. The air was filled with the chatter of commoners walking along the streets and the laughter of children mixed with the honking and clucking and mournful bleating of livestock to be sold at the meat stand. Stepping to and fro and slapping away the groping hands of lecherous young men, she picked up several pounds of strawberries and oranges, balancing the heavy baskets on her head and hips.
As Diana was making her way back to her parents' mansion, she felt someone tugging at her sleeve. She ignored it, thinking it was some magician mistaking her for his sister. The tugging came again, more insistent now, and she turned to the direction from which the tugging came. "Hello?"
Instead of a teenage acolyte, there was a diminutive old woman draped in colorful fabrics. Diana groaned inwardly. Desert gypsies. Straining to keep her impatient nature in check and balance the baskets at the same time, she said, "Good day, ma'am."
The gypsy smiled. Diana, who was slightly condescending of the old and the sick, winced. Several of the elder's teeth were missing. Not noticing, the gypsy woman replied in a thin voice, "Good day...Diana."
Diana wondered for a moment how the peasant knew her name, but decided not to dwell on it. More important things were waiting to be accomplished. She quickened her pace, hoping to make it back to the kitchen on time and to change before her parents found out she had been wandering Phillai under the guise of a scullery maid. The gypsy, too, quickened her pace to match the younger woman's, then said, as if nothing had happened, "This isn't your destiny, is it, dear?"
Diana stopped cold. "What?"
"You don't want to get married, do you?"
"Well..." she had to think on that one. "Yes...no...it doesn't matter, but my parents told me it was best..."
"Dear, dear..." the old woman shook her own head. "What a waste of talent. All that time adventuring in the Valley and you don't put it to use but, rather, aim to become a prissy noblewoman whose life is frittered away by sewing, parties, and balls?"
"Talent?"
"Your strength, my dear. You could be so much, but, no, you let all that training you did as a child go to waste and instead let your mind shrink to a shallow pool of superficial thought. Run away, my child, and find your true self."
"You must be kidding." Diana shook her head. "I can't do that, not now! Everyone will be mad at me and say no."
"Who said you needed permission to leave? That knight is not your destiny."
"I said no! You're just a silly gypsy woman, anyway! You've lost your mind, haven't you?" Diana elbowed the fortune-teller aside. "Leave me alone."
As she watched the atalanta hurry away, the old woman sighed, "Poor Diana..."
Once she had shipped the food to the cook and changed into a robe of pale blue silk, Diana hurried to the dining room of her home. Seeing her disturbed expression as she ate her breakfast of diced doral eggs, Mother asked, "Are you all right, dear?"
Diana poked her eggs. "Fine..."
But something about that gypsy woman had scared her...
All too soon, the time of the wedding arrived.
The bride, looking resplendent in her iridescent wedding gown, looked up at the sky with a joyous smile upon her lips. Her lightly tanned face shone golden in the sunlight, and the ruby-red hair hidden beneath her lacy veil was slightly ruffled by the gentle breeze. The wedding was outdoors, in the Grand Phillai Plaza. All the guests were standing or sitting in elegantly carved wooden benches, their feet making no noise as they stood in the stone-paved square. Even those who had not been personally invited were standing from high balconies, watching with slack jaws and wide eyes. Tame dragons flew above the wedding square, cawing, as garishly fletched birds trapped from exotic locales fluttered about the plaza.
The groom was dressed in shining silver armor, his face calm and his eyes gentle. A dazzlingly blue cape swept the ground as he stood before the Saintess performing the ceremony, waiting for his bride-to-be to walk down the red carpet laid before her.
Her father on her arm, Diana walked, with the grace of a swan, over the pathway. Diamond and silver earrings clinked softly as her head nodded with immeasurable poise. Finally, she stopped, and Lord Whitewind gave his daughter to her waiting husband.
The Saintess's voice was deep and rolling as she read her speech. "Dost thou, Gaelethor Starbreak, take Diana Whitewind as thy wife?"
"I do."
The blonde cleric then turned to Diana. "Dost thou, Diana Whitewind, take Gaelethor Starbreak as thy husband?"
Diana, opened her mouth to say, "I do," but nothing came out.
Patiently, the other woman repeated her line. "Dost thou, Diana Whitewind, take Gaelethor Starbreak as thy husband?"
Again, Diana opened her mouth, but again, nothing happened.
Her arching brow furrowed, the Saintess spoke a third time. "Dost thou-"
She never got a chance to finish the sentence. A clawed hand encircled the cleric's throat, digging its long black nails into the pale skin. Suddenly, it let go, and the priestess fell to the ground. A loud scream came from the crowd, and several of the noblemen brushed past the shocked couple to check if she was all right.
"Look, look!" A child broke free of his frightened mother's restraining grip and pointed at the sky. "Look!"
They all looked. The sky, which had been light blue, had deepened to an angry, puckered blue-black. Thunderclaps resounded as the clouds, now dark and swollen, spat out laughing bolts of white-hot lightning. One by one, the citizens were struck down as their neighbors frantically tried to flee. The wind now howled and raged, tearing apart lampposts and whipping the bride's veil from her face.
The bride and groom clung to each other, but a hand, the same that had choked the priestess, wrung the neck of the paladin. His head snapped back in death, and his eyes, glassy and staring, reflected the rage in the sky.
"No...nooo..." Diana's eyes were wide and shining with tears. Her hands, nerveless, let go of her dead knight, and she sank to the charred ground, her once lovely gown spotted with tears, blood, and ash. Her neatly styled hair now hung in lank, windblown clumps, and tears smudged the blush on her cheeks as she looked at the ruined wedding around her.
The hand appeared a third time, and this time Diana was glad, for she now wished for death. But the hand did not move as an arm clothed in dark fabric sprouted from it, followed by the body of an enrobed creature of boundless evil.
The face of the being was sneering, though handsome, and his eyes were a bloody red. He knelt beside the weeping bride, his hooded face staring at her with a mocking look upon it.
"Ssso...do you hate me?"
A hand, nails, painted with pearly white polish, lashed out at the revolting face. Angry red slashes appeared on the demon's cheek. "Of course I hate you!" Diana stood up backing away from him, her face contorted and her eyes laced with pain. "You killed my husband...you killed my family...you ruined my wedding! You destroyed my life!"
"But isssss your dessstiny to be married off at your tender age of sixteen to a nobleman? To be a haplesss lady within the wallsss of your disssgussstingly large mansssion?" The creature strode toward the cowering bride. "No...you have defied your fate, dear poppet, and now you shall pay the price."
"That was...that was just a fortune teller! Everything they say is false! I don't believe you!" Diana clutched her head and shook it vigorously. "This is just a nightmare...this isn't happening..."
"Don't deny it, poppet." The demon stroked Diana's trembling cheek. "You were warned, and your destiny is ultimate. I should sssay that it was quite fitting for you, a sssstrong woman, to bear thisss..."
Then, he disappeared in a puff of red smoke. The clouds softened, their burdens unleashed, and as they lightened to grey, a light drizzle fell upon the ravaged city. Diana was left alone, carrying uncountable sorrows within her breast.