—The Past Revisited—
—1000 Years Ago—
Days so long ago, those of differing worlds connecting. One from the land, another high above. Simpleness in the presence of the other, feelings growing over time. An adventure of bliss, experiences of amazement. No matter so, everything having an ending. Hostility in the castle of the Tyrant, that throne room holding ill emotions. An establishment of nobility, one of a higher standing. That maiden before her father, time seeming to stop. Everything crashing down around her, Ardin at the side of her father, his hands behind his back. That devil looking at the young woman, his vision calm upon her. Stepping towards the Tyrant, extending her right arm aside, disgust expressing from her.
"Father! I refuse!" she yells.
That light of the sun shining through, reflecting along the walls. A heart quivering, refusing in accepting what is happening. A Tyrant well in awareness on his daughter's personality, that child unwilling in seeing the darkness of the worlds. Endlessly trying to live a dream, venturing for many distances. Wings soaring through the sky, chains pulling her down. A demon once like herself, understanding her love in such. Those times no more, one of closeness going away, happiness but a fleeting moment. A realm of lawlessness, corruption existing even further out. A parent preparing his child for much, taking actions of necessity.
"This is but an order now. I thought I could one day pass on my throne to you, but I was wrong. If you continue down this path, ignoring what you are, then certainly this will lead to your demise one day." His stern eyes upon her.
Times of joy slipping away from her tiny hands, frustration at her depths. One never ceasing, sinking further into his sorrow. Imposing his despair on his child, that one of the past no more than within a dream. Even so, that daughter hoping for his return. Her vision towards her father, hatred extending from her. Those rebellious eyes, the maiden standing upon her side. Vision of familiarity, that Tyrant recognizing them all too well. One loathing the battlefield, never wishing in advancing her power. No matter so, holding the resolve of the Tyrant. Rising to the challenge at hand, yet following reason in reflection to her mother, opposing the rationality of her enemy. Gripping Lævateinn in hand, that Tyrant bearing witness to this. Refusing in accepting this arrangement, emotions rising, determination brightly burning from the young woman. Directing her blade at her father, those eyes of coldness upon him. Ardin stepping towards her, trying to have her come to term with the situation.
"Princess Cyra, your father only have your best interest at heart." Ardin expanding his arms.
A heart belonging elsewhere, unwillingness in this action. One never ceasing, following deeper into his despair. That child trying to reach her father, crushing against the tides. Sinking deeper, her voice incapable of meeting his ears. Traveling the worlds with a valuable companion, both agreeing to keep moving together. Their adventure never having to end, that certainly one day, those words can roam free. Disgust inside of the young woman, shaking her head in refusal. Her desires, everything she loves, much residing on the line. That will to oppose the reason of another, following her own way in going forward. Her will holding strong, that maiden rebelling against this.
"Silence!" she commands.
Born underneath the light of the crimson moon, never seeing one of normalcy. That object revealing her eyes, standing proud within the night, going away by the day. One reflecting both her parents, the rationality of her mother, and the irrationality of her father. Alastor extending his arm, blocking the path of Ardin. That demon turning his vision to the Tyrant, witnessing the certainty within his eyes. Understanding this, that young man backing away, allowing the scene to progress. That Tyrant resting his vision on his daughter, eyes of seriousness upon her.
Emotions of simplicity, sitting out in that grassy field on a certain day. One from the heavens descending, meeting someone from the land. Connecting immediately, pleasantry in the presence of the other. A bond forming, two venturing over the years. Feelings growing over time, one patiently waiting, the other hiding in his shell. Reality steadily setting in, two struggling along the way. Words of encouragement, that one from the earth assuring her companion above. Those two agreeing, continuing together, waiting for the day those words can reach the other. Alastor stepping forward, witnessing malevolence brightly burning from the maiden. That energy turning into a pure white aura, this power of familiarity.
Sadness expressing from his eyes, that power the Tyrant is never able in forgetting. Slowly shaking his head from left to right, doing away with those emotions. A realm of lawlessness, corruption further out, a father wishing in making her see within his reason. Standing still, witnessing her power immensely crushing down on him. Staggering it is, falling short of breath. This strength inside of her, that Tyrant in awareness on what she really is. Secrets inside of the past, two secluding the existence of their child. Happiness in those days, starting a family. Everything slipping out of his hands, blackness engulfing his heart. That last gift of one so dear, a father trying his best.
"Hmph...very well then, Cyra." Alastor gripping his blade upon his waist.
Joy of fleetingness, times of bliss so long ago. One growing by the day, reflecting her mother. Agony constantly in place, an effort going a long way. Fear slightly within his eyes, not in direction to his child, but the one she is drawing her power from. Distantly thinking back to those pleasureful experiences, wondering if Reynas is feeling disappointment in his actions. Unfitting he may be as a father, that Tyrant acknowledging this much. No matter so, doing all he can to give his daughter a good life. His painful decision, yet his way in going forward. That young woman loathing the battlefield, refusing in embracing her demonic blood.
A realm of lawlessness, corruption existing even further out. Accepting this about her, presenting a path to her safety. Even so, that maiden unwilling in following along, her heart being elsewhere. Dashing towards her father, breaking apart the surrounding area. Alastor meeting her in kind, both extending their weapons, nearing the other. Instantly clashing their blades against one another, a shockwave intensely tearing through, ripping away at the area. Rubble flying into the air, ornaments on the walls falling to the ground. Ardin's eyes trembling, never imagining there can be one that is capable of matching the Tyrant.
"Is this really all the power you hold, Cyra? I am disappointed in you." He calmly speaks.
One in the deepest of abyss, that young woman constantly diving further. Her hand reaching for the one drowning in his despair, tides of harshness crashing against her. A demon capable of smiling in times of yore, that happiness going away. Her mother never returning, that Tyrant never able in expressing joy since then. No matter so, constantly doing the best he can. Those eyes of coldness glaring into his own, that maiden expecting no less from him. A disappointment she is, one despising the battlefield, unwilling in embracing in his reason. Continuing to resist, pushing past her limitations. Much riding on the line, that halfbreed reaching for the smallest chance. Those words echoing through her, that drive in rebelling against such blasphemy.
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"Tell me something I do not know!" she yells, sweeping her blade in a fearsome uppercut.
Blocking her assault, that impact shattering the surrounding area. Alastor skidding back upon his feet. An impressive attack, that demon admitting this. Those eyes of azure meeting with his child, hearing Lævateinn crying out. A weapon of trust, reason in giving it to his child. One opposing the Tyrant throughout the years, his daughter never capable of bringing out the true power of the sword. Growing softer over the years, yet it does not mind. Family they are, doing all that it can. Pushing the boundaries, willing in opposing. Turning his attention to the weapon, that sound growing silent. Both connecting, understanding the other. Facing his attention back to his daughter, standing straight. Understanding her choices, reason existing for such, no less actuality of harshness.
"Cyra...you have to realize...nothing can stay a dream forever..." Some sorrow expressing from him.
Years of bliss away from her home, those times slowly coming apart. Companions facing this dreadfulness, coming to a conclusion. Venturing together, embracing in the pleasure of the other. This of their solution, until those words can finally meet the other. Her heart quivering with the potential outcome, hanging her head low. Refusing in acknowledging his view, desiring in pursuing her dream, to make the nigh impossible into a reality. Wishing for a life of adventure, where those two old friends can eternally venture together. That deepest desire beneath the surface, emotions that are capable of grabbing hold of such simplicity.
"Dreams are meant to be pursued. I know they cannot last forever, that is why...I will make mine a reality..." She holds her hand to her chest.
Feelings of simpleness, seeking after the nigh impossible. Two in decision, riding along within the wind. Chains setting in upon one, that heart resisting the reason of others. Standing silent, that Tyrant reconsidering his actions. Turning his attention away for a moment, thinking back to the past. Those earlier days, one being much the same. Rising to heights far above his own, paving his path onward. Facing his attention back to his daughter, wondering if things can go differently. A NetherWorld of lawlessness, peace not in existence. In awareness on her decision, of where such a life will lead. Looking directly into her father's vision, those eyes of hers burning in determination. That velvet moon reflecting from her, her gaze reminding the Tyrant of her mother. Growing throughout the years, resembling one of the past, while also reflecting himself.
Distant days of yore, one from high above, another roaming the land. Seeking heights far above his own, a devil ascending to the highest of heavens. Meeting a goddess in her domain, challenging her, defeat coming to him. Falling below, her guiding hand reaching out, grabbing hold of his own. Eyes connecting to the other, a bond forming. Emotions of simpleness developing over the passing time, bliss in their experiences. That maiden dashing away, her father dematerializing. Particles rapidly spreading in every direction, that Tyrant giving chase in his state of energy. Turning her attention above, witnessing her father materializing. His blade extending far, that demon descending upon her. Spreading her stance, defending with Lævateinn. His sword clashing against her own, those familiar eyes of hers. Rebellious she has always been, even in her younger days.
"This time Cyra, I am not holding back. This is your final chance to prove yourself!" he strongly speaks.
Wind of the past, emotions at the depths. Words inside of a lock, two agreeing in continuing on. Years of companionship, a heart desiring its own way going forward. That Tyrant falling into the pits of despair, sorrow drowning at his core. trying to dohis best, a realm of lawlessness. Worlds beyond of corruption, experiencing much himself. A final chance, well in awareness on the truth in his statement. Unnerving it is to the maiden, a wider rift growing between them. Alastor dematerializing once again, riding along the waves of energy around them, moving behind the young woman.
Glancing back towards him, that Tyrant taking form. Witnessing his approaching weapon, immediately turning. Positioning her blade vertically to the ground, blocking the attack. That impact ripping away at the surrounding area, the Tyrant continuing his assaults. Frightening his force is, only capable in keeping up her defense. That heart quivering, a demon constantly growing stronger. Falling to her knee, unable in repelling his attacks any longer. Gasping for air, trying to hold everything together, feeling herself slowly slipping away. Alastor resting his vision down at his daughter, those same eyes of disappointment.
"Is that really all you can muster, Cyra?" he questions a bit harshly.
Shattering tips, words of harshness. One loathing the battlefield, unwilling in embracing this way of life, having in taking up arms. That freedom on the line, an experience of normalcy for devils. Even so, that father far from how he has once been. Those days of yore, smiling existing so long ago. Two of differences, her heart paining each day. An unlikely meeting with a certain one, that companion from the high heavens. Continuously descending, walking along with her on the land. Pleasure in her life, yet her father willing in taking it away. Lowering her head, refusing in giving in. Negativity emitting from her body, that Tyrant and Ardin closely looking onward, witnessing it burning brighter, watching it thickening by the moment. Desperation inside of her, much she is wishing to experience, unwilling in it slipping away.
"What is this...?" Ardin stepping back in surprise.
A heart seeking the eternal sky, wings refusing in relenting. Forcing against the shackles upon her, spreading them afar. Riding along the endless wind, pushing against the harshness of it all. Blackness plaguing her, trying to maintain that heart of softness. Alastor realizing this energy, familiar it is. A power capable of making him tremble, that Tyrant stepping away, watching the maiden rising to her feet. Darkness lightening, a pure light burning. Raising her blade, lowering her head, that Tyrant bracing himself. Feeling the concentration of her power, a last defense of hers, an attempt of desperation.
Holding onto that dream, desires driving her way. A heart wishing for freedom from this torment, away from this hostility. Trying for so long, incapable of reaching her father. Drowning in that abyss, sorrow gripping at her heart. Unrelenting fury, a mysterious force emerging from her. A pure light leaving her body, alarming it is to the Tyrant, witnessing her dematerializing before his eyes. Feeling her energy all around him, locking onto her approach, that maiden closing in from behind. Taking form, her blade moving in. Turning in her direction, narrowly stopping her weapon with his own. That crushing pressure she is exerting, staggering it is. Ardin stepping away, holding the side of his head, noxious he is feeling.
"So you finally decide to use that power." He speaks a bit gently.
One born underneath the light of the crimson moon, potential infinitely within. Unwilling in using it, loathing the battlefield. Even so, desperation coming at hand. Tapping into it, incapable of controlling it. Not reacting to the words of the Tyrant, her body acting on its own. Alarming it is to Alastor, uncertainty if it is her blood of the divine claiming control. Desires deep within, seeking power far above her own. Reaching for the smallest chance, sinking into the blackness of her mind. Forcing onward, revealing a most frightening strength. One last chance, stepping upon a domain high above her standing.
"Cyra?" he calls out.
"Disappear..."
Hatred at her depths, emotions of illness flowing out. Manifesting within sanctity, that crushing pressure upon the room. Words deeply striking at the Tyrant, such not belonging to her. Well in awareness on the personality of his child, a final defense in place. His hair standing on the back of his neck, both dematerializing, clashing throughout the room. That surrounding area tearing away, devastating their power is. Those eyes of Ardin trembling, shockwaves emitting with each collision, malevolence and divinity crushing down on the entire room. Pushing beyond, reaching for the tiniest of possibilities. Sinking deeper into despair, dangling on the edge.