The last of the Three Great Quests had arrived, casting an air of both anticipation and trepidation across the land. It was the ultimate endeavor—the subjugation of the King of monsters, the embodiment of living apocalypse and the essence of nightmares. The realm stood on the precipice of destiny, hearts intertwining with hope and fear, as heroes prepared to confront the unimaginable. This wasn't just a quest; it was a clash of legends, an embodiment of courage pitted against the very embodiment of terror. The horizon seemed to tremble under the weight of the impending confrontation, and the world held its collective breath in the face of an adversary that defied mortal comprehension.
On the eve of the Familias' departure, a sense of bittersweet anticipation hung in the air. Meteria and her love, their hearts heavy with the impending separation, sought solace in each other's arms. The moonlight cascaded through the window, casting a gentle glow upon their intertwined fingers and whispered promises. With every touch and gaze exchanged, they silently vowed to weather the distance and to return to each other's embrace.
As the night unfolded, Meteria's fingers traced the contours of her lover's face, committing every detail to memory. She marveled at the way his rubellite eyes held a mixture of determination and vulnerability, his lips softly uttering words of commitment that danced like a secret melody in the quiet room.
"You and the children are my anchor," he declared, his voice a tender caress. "I'll brave the storm and conquer whatever challenges lie ahead, so that when I return, we can build a life of happiness."
Their hearts swelled with the weight of unspoken emotions, and in that fleeting moment, Meteria could almost believe that time could stand still. The room echoed with laughter and the innocent patter of tiny feet as Bell and Alice rushed in, their faces a canvas of emotions. The children's arms wrapped around their father, their hugs a testament to the love that bound their family.
"Promise you'll come back," Alice whispered, her voice a fragile plea.
"I promise," he replied, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
The day of departure arrived, and amidst tearful farewells and exchanged embraces, Meteria held onto her love, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat against her chest. Their lips met in a final, lingering kiss—a promise sealed with love and longing. Little did she know that it was a goodbye that fate had no intention of reversing.
Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, each passing moment a reminder of his absence. The sunsets painted the sky with hues of gold and orange, mirroring the warmth of his touch that she yearned for. Meteria clung to memories like lifelines, her fingers tracing the contours of her own face in the mirror, as if trying to recreate the touch she so deeply missed.
Then, news arrived like a thunderclap in a clear sky. Meteria's heart shattered as the words reached her ears—her love, the father of her children, had fallen in battle against the One-Eyed Black Dragon. But not only him, all members of the Famailias that set out were presumed lost. Grief crashed over her in waves, drowning her in a sea of memories and unspoken words.
The shadow of tragedy descended upon the realm as merciless the talons of the Black Dragon that tore through the heart of the Zeus and Hera Familia. The once-proud Familia now lay shattered, a tapestry of lives forever unraveled. The deafening echoes of annihilation reverberated through the very fabric of the world, leaving nothing but an eerie silence in their wake. The greatest Familias in the world had fallen. The King of Monsters still reigned and the greatest Genkia had to offer was destroyed.
The echoes of devastation reverberated through the land, casting a dark pall over what was once the realm's mightiest Familias. In a world that had always held their names in reverence, the heart-wrenching truth now unfolded—cracks had appeared in the invincible façade, and the pillars of strength had crumbled.
The King of Monsters, an embodiment of primal terror, still held dominion over the world. Its malevolent reign unassailable, a reminder of the fragility that even the mightiest could not escape. As the dust settled over the remnants of the fallen Familias, a somber hush descended, weighted with the grief of countless lives forever altered.
Within this realm of shadows and wreckage, the ones there were once the most celebrated in Genkia—the pinnacle of human potential—had been rendered impotent, their might shattered against the scales of their foe. The very essence of their prowess had been extinguished, leaving behind only the bitter taste of defeat. The air seemed to carry the whispers of their struggles; a ghostly echo of a battle that had been waged with the fervent hope of victory.
Amidst the ruins, a maelstrom of emotions churned within the hearts of those who had once looked up to the fallen Familias with admiration and awe. Disbelief mingled with heartache, and the landscape seemed to mirror the desolation that had settled in their souls. The once-vibrant tapestry of heroes had been woven into threads of tragedy.
A vibrant tapestry of heroes, once interwoven with threads of valor and triumph, now lay shattered, the very fabric of their aspirations torn asunder. The echoes of their once-celebrated deeds whispered through the air, now accompanied by the mournful notes of their downfall. The essence of their valor, now eclipsed by tragedy, painted a poignant picture of the impermanence of glory.
Amidst the wreckage, a different breed emerged—avaricious and opportunistic, like vultures circling the fallen. The scent of ambition hung heavy in the air, mingling with the acrid tinge of desperation. Their eyes gleamed with a hunger for recognition, as they stepped over the remnants of their rivals, each step a declaration of their intent to seize what had been left behind.
Within this was the desecration of the scene of shattered dreams for their relentless ambition, the atmosphere itself seemed transformed, a silent witness to the shifting tides of fate. The world wore its scars like badges of honor, an ever-present reminder that nothing remained untouched by the cruel hand of change. The air seemed to hum with the resonance of collective powerlessness, the weight of sorrow and an oppressive force that defied release.
As the opportunistic figures emerged from the shadows, citizens couldn't help but react with a mix of distaste and resignation. Their expressions, like mirrors of the collective sentiment, mirrored the palpable disdain for those who saw tragedy as an opportunity for personal gain. The once-admirable ideals that had forged their paths now seemed tarnished by association with the opportunists' ambitions.
Amid this dark tableau, the atmosphere bore witness to a world forever changed. The once-brilliant skies, now a somber expanse of gray, mirrored the grief that hung heavy in the hearts of those who gazed upon them. As if the heavens, once a canvas for dreams and aspirations, had become a reflection of the bleak reality below.
As a sense of powerlessness lingered, interwoven with the collective sorrow that hung in the air. The skies now wore a shroud of gray, as if mourning alongside those who grieved below. It was as though the Heavens bowed in solidarity with the chorus of mourners, its tears mingling with those shed on earth.
Within this abyss stood Meteria, her soul a canvas splattered with anguish. Her lover, her partner in dreams, and her beloved sister, a piece of her heart's mosaic, had been cruelly snatched away, leaving behind an emptiness that defied words. The tendrils of grief clutched at her; a vice that seemed determined to crush every fragment of hope within her.
In a world steeped in sorrow, there were no remnants of the Familia's once vibrant existence. The laughter that once resounded through the halls, the camaraderie that bound them, now dissolved into the void, a symphony of memories that would never play again. Not a whisper of life remained, and the void was an unending abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.
As tears cascaded down her cheeks, each droplet bore the weight of unspoken conversations and stolen moments. Her heart wept for a love unfulfilled, for the embrace of her sister that would never come, for the laughter that had now become a distant echo. The harsh reality gnawed at her, tearing apart the fabric of her being with every passing second.
The agonized words erupted from Meteria's lips in a fervent plea, the syllables laden with desperation as if by sheer force of will, she could alter the cruel reality that had befallen her. Her voice quivered with a mix of disbelief and hope, her heart torn between the dread of acceptance and the fervor of denial.
"No. . Please don't let it be true.' Meteria cries out as tears cascaded down her cheeks, each droplet a testament to the depth of her pain. Her very being seemed to tremble with the weight of emotions too powerful to contain, her vulnerability laid bare before the universe. The echo of her cries reverberated within the hollow chamber of her church, a lament that seemed to pierce the veil between worlds.
The door, a portal between her anguish and the realm beyond, creaked open—a harbinger of the unexpected. Amidst her grief, the entrance drew her attention like a flicker of hope. It was a convergence of worlds, a meeting point where sorrow met curiosity, and the unknown collided with the familiar.
"Mommy, what's wrong?" Innocent voices, chorused with concern, cut through the air. The words carried a weight that belied their tender years, a testament to the bond shared between parent and child. Their presence was a stark reminder that even amid the darkest storms, the light of family endures.
Meteria's gaze lifted, and her tear-blurred vision revealed a pair of children standing before her—the living embodiment of the love she had lost. Bell and Alice, their faces etched with a mixture of confusion and empathy. In that moment, their existence seemed both miraculous and bittersweet.
A bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of Meteria's lips as she hastily brushed away her tears, her cheeks still glistening with evidence of her grief. Her voice, held a warmth that sought to shield them from the pain that had woven itself into her heart.
"It's nothing," she reassured them, her words a soothing melody that belied the tumult within her. The effort to mask her anguish felt like an act of love, a promise to safeguard their innocence from the harsh realities that had cast shadows upon her even if it only delayed the inevitable.
Bell's voice, tinged with concern, cut through the air like a gentle breeze carrying whispers of worry. "You don't look okay, Mom," he said, his brows furrowed in apprehension.
Alice, his sister, chimed in with her own worry-laden words, her voice a soft echo of Bell's concern. "Yeah, you look like something is bothering you."
Meteria's lips formed a tremulous smile, a mask she hoped would shield her children from the tempest of emotions that raged within her.
"You don't have to worry about me," she assured them, her voice like a fragile melody laced with reassurance.
"But we do!" Bell's voice quivered, breaking like a wave against the shore of his concern. His words, spoken with the earnestness of youth, held a weight far beyond his years. "You're the only momma we have!"
Alice, too, added her voice to the chorus of care. "We care about you, Mom!"
A muffled sob caught in Meteria's throat, her heart aching at the purity of their love. The glistening trails left by her tears were a silent testament to the emotions she struggled to contain. Yet, amidst the turmoil, the tenderness of her children's expressions offered a lifeline—a beacon of hope in her sea of despair.
"I know, I know," she whispered, her voice a gentle caress as she wiped away her tears with trembling fingers. Her children's presence, their unwavering devotion, was a soothing balm to her wounded soul.
"But enough about me. How did you two get here?" she managed to ask, her voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and surprise.
A voice, both familiar and unexpected, cut through the air. "I brought them here." The words carried a weight that spoke of divine authority, and as Meteria turned, her gaze fell upon a trio of figures—Zeus, Hera, and Hermes. Their expressions held the gravity of shared grief, a somber solidarity that echoed her own pain.
Bell and Alice, the embodiment of innocence, climbed onto the bed with their mother, their presence a comfort that was both bittersweet and soothing. As sleep's gentle embrace claimed them, the world seemed to fade into the background, leaving only a cocoon of familial warmth.
Zeus, taking a seat beside them, cast a fond smile upon the scene—the image of a mother cradling her children, a testament to love's enduring strength.
Yet, even in this tender moment, Meteria's heartache persisted, undiminished by the presence of her family's spectral guardians. Her gaze, heavy with unshed tears, met Zeus's somber eyes, her voice a fragile tremor that encapsulated a universe of grief.
"Is it true? Is he really gone? Everyone's… gone?" Her voice trembled, and the unspoken words—those fragments of anguish and loss that eluded articulation—seemed to hang heavy in the air between them, an invisible thread that connected their hearts in shared sorrow.
Amidst the ethereal presence of gods, the weight of the world's upheaval hung heavy in the air. Zeus's solemn expression cast a shadow over the room, his features etched with both grief and a hint of determination.
"No," his voice, carrying the echoes of sorrow and grief. "While your lover and most of mine and Hera's children are gone. Zald, Alfia, and a few others are still alive."
The words were a lifeline in the abyss, a glimmer of hope that pierced through the shroud of despair. The mere mention of their names ignited a spark of light in the darkness. Meteria's response wavered between relief and the rawness of her pain.
"Oh. Oh... thank goodness." The words, tinged with emotion, were a release valve for the emotions she had held in check. And as the dam crumbled, tears streamed down her cheeks like rain against glass, her sobs a testament to the weight that had pressed upon her heart.A momentary pause hung in the air; the silence heavy with the gravity of emotions.
"W-where are they?" Meteria's voice, though choked by tears. Her desire to be close to those who remained was a beacon that guided her through the storm.
"Resting at an elven village in Dedine," Zeus replied. "They have an herb for Zald's illness, and the elves gave a branch of the Holy Elven Tree to help Alfia. But they won't be moving for a while."
Meteria's gaze, a tumultuous blend of relief and curiosity, sought answers in Zeus's eyes. Her voice, though fragile from her tears, harbored a curiosity born of concern. "Why did you come here? Why are you telling me this?"
Zeus's reply, laden with both regret and acceptance, was a solemn admission of the world's unyielding reality. "Because sadly, things couldn't get any worse for us." The weight of his words was a heavy acknowledgment of their collective downfall. "The news about our total defeat just got leaked, and all of Orario is calling for our banishment."
Meteria's eyes, normally a wellspring of warmth and light, widened in disbelief as the weight of the news struck her. "No! Why? How could they?"
The words, laced with incredulity, pierced the air like arrows. Her voice, once a soothing melody, now crackled with a blend of anger and heartache that seemed to defy understanding. "After everything you and Goddess Hera did for the city?"
Zeus, the deity who's Familia had stood as an emblem of power and authority, shook his head—his regal demeanor overshadowed by a cloud of resignation. Yet, even as his head moved in resignation, his eyes held the weight of an untold history, a history woven with threads of ambition, rivalry, and the complexity of politics. "Don't be so surprised," he replied, his voice carrying the burden of ages past. "A lot of the gods are just looking for the next thrill, and we've made a lot of enemies over the years."
"Some of them will take advantage of the chaos and use it as an excuse to try to get rid of us," Zeus continued, his words a tapestry of truths long acknowledged but now painfully unveiled. "And some of the more... traditional ones saw it as a sign that we're losing our strength, and they're going to use it as an excuse to get rid of us to try and take our place." The atmosphere was thick with the weight of divine machinations—the intricacies of power struggles that transcended human comprehension.
"Everyone wants entertainment," his words held a bitter edge, a revelation of the self-serving nature that even gods were not immune to. "They see this as their chance to get rid of the competition. And if the other gods side with them, there won't be anything we can do to stop it."
Meteria's desperation, her need to salvage what remained, broke like a wave against the tide of fate. "There has to be something you can do!"
Zeus's response, his voice a mixture of weariness and finality, cast a shadow over the scene. "I don't think so." His words were a murmur of acceptance—a recognition that the die had been cast. "You should've seen the looks on everyone's faces when they heard the news."
The unspoken dimensions of the divine council's reaction resonated in his voice. "There were a few who seemed sympathetic, but most of them were either indifferent or downright hostile. Hephaestus, Astraea, Miach, and Ganesha all wanted to say something but Loki and Freya wouldn't listen. They want us gone so they can take our place. If they had the strength, I would feel better about it. The problem is their Familias are too weak. I didn't even need to tell anyone else why we had to leave. The look in their eyes told me everything I needed to know."
Zeus's head shook, a somber rhythm that underscored the weight of his words. "I'm sorry, but there really is no choice here." His voice, bearing a melancholic note of inevitability.
"So this is why I came to you. What do you want to do, Meteria? You can come with us but.." His question, a thread of inquiry woven with threads of empathy.
"I won't survive for long outside of Orario," Meteria's voice, like a whisper caught in the wind, completed the thought—a declaration of her awareness of the cruel reality. Her words, though tinged with resignation, carried an undercurrent of determination that seemed to defy fate's cruel decree.
"Yes... unfortunately." Zeus's response held an undertone of regret—a shared acknowledgment of the harsh truth that bound their choices.
As Meteria took a deep breath, the air seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of her next words. "But I still want to help you, Goddess Hera, and the others. If it means staying with my children for even a little while longer... then I'll do it."
Zeus's inquiry, tinged with a sense of duty, contrasted with Meteria's determination.
"Are you sure you want to do that?" Zeus's question hung in the air, a contemplative note that mirrored the complexities of her decision. His gesture toward Bell and Alice, a subtle reminder of the choices at hand.
Meteria's gaze, softened by a bittersweet smile, turned toward her children—a glance laden with love and sorrow. "Once Lady Hera is gone, I will lose my falna if I stay and won't last nearly as long if I have it."
As her gaze lifted to meet Zeus's eyes, the air seemed to hum with a poignant blend of resolve and acceptance. "I want to be with my children as long as possible." Her voice, carrying the weight of a mother's devotion, was a declaration that echoed with the rhythms of her heart. It was a symphony of love and sacrifice, woven seamlessly into a mother's love for her children.
Zeus's nod held a silent understanding "I understand," he said as he gently places his hand upon her head.
"You're a good mother," he affirmed, his words a gentle caress that echoed with sincerity. "And I'll make sure you can stay with them for as long as possible." His vow was both a promise and a plea—a testament to the intricacies of his role.
"We're leaving now," Zeus's voice bore a note of urgency, the weight of their decisions palpable. "I already made arrangements with Hermes here. We will not have a lot of time."
Hermes stepped forward; his energy vibrant as he assumed his role as messenger of the gods. "We will sneak you out using an emergency tunnel that only a few know of. From there I have I've arranged passage with some merchants in one of the towns outside Orario," he relayed,. "They'll take you to the northernmost part of the Kingdom of Dedin, near Odin and Firgg's domain. Once there, you'll have to figure something out for yourself."
"That is fine," Zeus's spoke. "I know of a few places to lie low around there."
The varied dialogue tags danced between voices—a chorus of divine and mortal perspectives. Zeus's gaze, laden with significance, met Meteria's. "Are you ready?"
Meteria's nod held the weight of her decision, her response an unspoken affirmation. "Yes."
But it was Hera, who stepped forward with a gesture of compassion. "Meteria, give me the children. I will carry them for you."
"Thank you, Lady Hera." Meteria says as she gently passes Bell and Alice to Hera, who gazes fondly at her most beloved child and grandchildren.
With Zeus and Hermes lending their support, Meteria found herself on her feet—her vulnerability met with kind assistance. Their steps toward the door were slow but resolutely.
Meteria's gaze lingered on her sleeping children. A sad smile danced upon her lips as she whispered, "I love you." It was a secret shared in the quiet of the moment, a promise that transcended words.
As they moved to depart, a hush of serenity blanketed the room—a quietude disturbed only by the soft stirrings of Alice in her slumber. Her mumbled words, like fragments of a dream, floated through the air—pieces of a puzzle waiting to be unraveled. And then, with eyes parting the veil between dreams and reality, she found herself cradled in the arms of Lady Hera—a vision both unexpected and surreal.
"Mom, what's going on?" Her voice, a blend of curiosity and sleepiness, cut through the stillness.
Meteria's smile, a tapestry woven with maternal reassurance, was a tender response to her daughter's query. "Alice," her voice held the warmth of a whispered secret, "nothing sweetie." The words, a soothing balm, sought to quell any concern that might disturb the tranquility of the moment. "Go back to sleep, sweetie." The soft command was a promise that all would be well.
Alice's response, a testament to the bond between mother and child, was an echo of love in the stillness of night. "Okay, Mamma. Love you lots. You too Lady Hera." The words, spoken with the simplicity of innocence, carried weight because of their sincerity. As she nestled closer to Bell, the tableau of their connection seemed to cocoon them in warmth, a testament to familial closeness.
Meteria's gaze, as tender as a lullaby, lingered on her slumbering children. Her smile, tinged with a touch of sadness, held an unspoken promise as she whispered, "I love you too." The words, carried on the wings of a sigh, were a final declaration—a reminder that even in the face of uncertainty, love remained an unbreakable thread.
In the shroud of night, when the sky held a tapestry of stars and the city's heartbeat slowed to a mere whisper, Orario's towering walls bore witness to a departure that would echo through the ages. Then a small group of figures, silent sentinels of an era past, stepped away from the city they had shielded for countless generations. The air itself seemed to hold its breath, as if acknowledging the gravity of the moment—the departure of Orario's greatest and longest-serving protectors.
Not even their closest friends, those who had shared battles and laughter, could fathom the path they had chosen. The unspoken puzzle left behind was a testament to the magnitude of their sacrifice—a void in the tapestry of camaraderie that spoke volumes in its silence.
The mighty guardians, who had stood as unwavering pillars for a millennium, had vanished without a trace. The legacy they left behind was a city transformed, a canvas painted with the indelible brushstrokes of their influence. As the city slumbered, blissfully unaware of the momentous change, the torch of protection was passed to the unknown—a future that held both promise and uncertainty.
In Orario (several week later):
A clouded moon cast feeble light upon the city, its pallid glow accentuating the shadows that seemed to writhe like sinister tendrils through the heart of Orario. Whispers of uncertainty lingered in the air, carried on the chill of a foreboding breeze—a wind that whispered secrets of a future yet untold. Unseen by most, the city's fate was a tapestry of tangled and woven threads—threads that would soon begin to unravel.
Amidst the gloom, figures moved like specters—those who had long lingered in the shadows—began to move in the open. Those who assumed the mantle of guardianship were ill-equipped for the tides of darkness that approached. The new Guardians' steps were hesitant, as if guided by both doubt and duty. The weight of their responsibility bore down upon them, a burden too heavy for some of their shoulders unaccustomed to the weight.
Whispers, like tendrils of shadow, wound their way through the city—a hushed symphony of dread that echoed in the corners and crevices. Rumors danced on the lips of those who dared to speak, tales that seemed to seep from the very cracks in the cobblestone streets. Amidst the veil of night, a sinister prophecy was inscribed upon the city's fate. Whispers echoed in the alleys and taverns; tales told in hushed tones of those who sought entertainment at the expense of the city's safety.
Amidst the tavern's flickering candlelight, characters huddled in hushed conversation. Their talks bearing the weight of anxiety, their words a reflection of a world on the precipice. Varied voices spoke of the unthinkable—the rise of Evil Gods. Fear pooled into their eyes; a reflection of the horrors they dared not utter aloud. Within the tapestry of their conversations, inner thoughts intertwined—a chorus of dread and uncertainty.
Emotions ran deep, woven into every utterance and reaction. Anguish and disbelief etched lines upon faces, while determination fanned the sparks of resistance. Lamentations of what the world had fallen to.
In the shadows of passing nights, a foreboding reality took shape—a reflection of the uncharted path ahead. Those who had once reveled in the spectacle of their role as protectors now faced a stark reckoning. The stage of entertainment had morphed into a battlefield with untold darkness. Amid the shifting tides, a tide of unpreparedness began to rise—an undercurrent that threatened to pull the city into the depths of strife. Those who had once been spectators to greatness, now found themselves thrust into a role for which they were ill-equipped.
As the rhythm of time marched on, a sense of inevitability settled—a darkness that no longer hid in the corners, but rather loomed on the horizon, casting long shadows over the once vibrant city.
In the weeks, months, and years that lay ahead, the path would become treacherous, the battles more harrowing. Amid the flicker of candlelight, the setting held an aura of foreboding—an atmosphere thick with tension. As the curtain rose on this sinister prelude, it painted a portrait of struggle—a city on the precipice, a future teetering between salvation and ruin. An overture to an era fraught with darkness and despair.
Evilus, once a mere shadowy specter, rose from the depths of obscurity, its presence shrouded in malevolence. Like ink spilling across parchment, it seeped into the world's very soul, staining the fabric of reality.
The air was heavy with the scent of foreboding, an atmosphere laced with the tension of impending doom. Whispers of its ascent curled like tendrils of smoke, intertwining with the minds of those who dared to acknowledge its existence.
Emotions ran deep, a symphony of fear and trepidation that echoed in every heartbeat. Citizens murmuring with hushed urgency, their voices tinged with disbelief and horror.
Inner thoughts were whispered like secrets shared with the abyss—an unspoken realization that the world was changing, and not for the better. The future is now obscured by shadows. Citizens reacted with a blend of anguish and determination, their faces etched with lines of worry and at was to come.
Until one day Evilus unfurled its wings like a ravenous beast, started sowing seeds of discord and panic. Chaos walked hand in hand with destruction and ruin who were followed by their grim companion, Death. And amid this tumult, the war drums echoed—a symphony of conflict between the forces of good and the rising malevolent tide.