Princess Rhea’s birth into royalty was met with disappointment. Centuries-old tradition dictated that only the most magically gifted sons could inherit the throne, Rhea was neither. The King and Queen viewed their daughter with disdain, even considering legitimizing one of the king's bastard sons. Rhea had always faced constant disapproval from her parents, with her mother's cruelty being particularly severe. The queen would berate Rhea for the slightest of mistakes, and on one occasion, even became irate over something as simple as the color of Rhea’s dress. Meanwhile, the king was cold and indifferent towards his daughter, seldom acknowledging her existence.
Despite the challenges of her upbringing, the princess dreamed of becoming one of the greatest among greats in Ishgria. She would spend hours in the royal library, studying books on philosophy, medicine, and most importantly: magic, in spite of being unable to use it herself. However, because of her lack of magical talent, she knew that mastery of the sword would be essential so she could defend herself. To this end, Rhea relentlessly trained her sword-fighting skills against members of the royal guard. Her frustration at the lack of her arcane talents was channeled into her sword training. By the time the princess turned 20, she had become a skilled swordsman and an adept scholar.
Yet, now, at 21 years old, Rhea had been reduced to a mere shell of her former self. Her skin was pallid and sickly, and her once plump cheeks had sunken in, as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. The princess was weak and feeble, requiring assistance from others for even the most mundane tasks. Worse, no physician, healer, or mage was able to cure the princess from the deathly illness which seemed to cling onto her very soul. For weeks, she was left to languish in her chambers by the king and queen, who believed her sickness to be a divine punishment, and a sign of their long-awaited son's arrival. For Rhea, life had become an endless torture. The only glimmer of hope in her life came in the form of a knock at her bedroom door.
"Excuse me Rhea, may I come in?"
"Remuria? It’s fine, please come in." the princess said weakly, stifling a cough.
"Excuse me."
As the door creaked open, a silver-haired woman swept in, her hair tightly styled into a chignon which exuded a sense of polished professionalism. She donned the standard uniform for servants of the royal family, a black morning coat, a white dress shirt, and gray trousers that accentuated her svelte figure, the woman was none other than Remuria: the princess’s most trusted attendant and caretaker.
Remuria was more than just a servant to Princess Rhea; she was one of the few people in the castle whom the Princess considered a close confidant. As Rhea's personal attendant, Remuria was personally responsible for catering to the princess’s needs, handling every assignment with meticulous attention. Indeed, Remuria's devotion to the Princess was unmatched by any other servant in the castle.
"Rhea, are you feeling alright?" Remuria asked with concern, noticing her worsening condition.
"I feel fine enough," the Princess responded weakly, her voice raspy and strained as though attempting to push through a mouthful of crushed glass. Every word was a struggle. The sound of her labored breathing filled the room, and she appeared to be on the brink of exhaustion.
"Please, do not speak too much, I will attend to you now."
Approaching the Princess's bedside with soft steps, Remuria exchanged the damp washcloth on Rhea's forehead for a new one, fresh with a cool touch. In a gesture of care, she offered the Princess some sips of herbal tea, followed by a hearty chicken soup.
"Eat slowly Rhea, this will make you feel better," said Remuria as she fed the ill princess a spoonful of soup. As the princess ate, her eyes never wandered from her attendant. Remuria would have made a great noble if she had been born to a better family, she was beautiful, kind, and skilled in many trades. Rhea was certain of it, that if her servant had been born as a daughter of a Duke or Duchess, she would have nobles from all over the kingdom pining over her for marriage and she could have lived a life of luxury without ever having to lift a finger for the rest of her life.
Even now, Remuria still receives marriage offers from many suitors, some of whom were wealthy and successful men. Despite the numerous offers, Remuria had refused each one. The princess couldn't help but wonder why Remuria would turn down such advantageous marriage proposals. One such proposal came from the son of a wealthy merchant, who was known for his striking looks. Rhea believed that accepting the proposal would have granted Remuria a comfortable life. However, Rhea chose not to inquire too deeply into Remuria's personal life. She always felt that it was never her place to do so.
Rhea was close to her final hour, she could feel it. With each passing moment, her muscles grew weaker, her eyelids heavier, and her vision more blurred. She knew that she needed to act fast before her illness consumed her completely.
"Remuria…I trust that preparations are complete?"
"Indeed, shall I proceed?"
"Yes please, hurry, while I still have strength left in me." Rhea replied, her voice seemingly growing weaker by the minute.
As the princess watched her attendant lock the doors to her chambers and remove a plank of wood from the floorboards below, she knew that what was about to take place would change the course of her life forever. Remuria produced a key from her waistcoat and opened a hatch, revealing a cache of strange objects: vials of strange liquids, jars filled with preserved eyeballs, exotic herbs and plant roots, vials of blood, and other odd items. Rhea then guided Remuria in the creation of a ritual circle, using chalk, providing precise measurements for every line, symbol, and orientation. Although the princess lacked magical ability, she had devoted herself to its study with the same passion and commitment as any accomplished sage. This was the moment of her final gambit, a desperate attempt to alter her fate.
Within half an hour, preparations for the ritual were complete. The ritual circle had been drawn along with numerous runes scribbled within the circle with chalk. Bowls of offerings surrounded the circle, whilst candles were lit in key nodes. The display would have caused the average person to reel in horror and shout claims that the ritual was a blasphemy against the gods. Yet, Rhea did not show even a modicum of fear or doubt, and neither did Remuria.
"Shall I commence the ritual?" asked Remuria as she looked to Rhea for approval.
The princess merely gave a weak nod; she no longer had enough strength in her to speak.
Remuria uncorked several vials of blood, their iron scent thickening the air as it spilled into the center of the circle. Her fingers traced a pattern in the blood, and with each motion, Remuria chanted both arcane words and profane incantations. Rhea's heart pounded as she watched, a mix of fascination and fear thrummed in her chest. As the last word fell from Remuria's lips, the air around them grew heavy, as if it had taken on a malevolent presence. A black smoke began to seep from the runes etched in the ground, slowly at first, then with growing intensity until it choked the very air. Rhea’s eyes widened in horror as the smoke plunged the room into an all consuming darkness. In that moment, Rhea's mind went blank, swallowed by the void of the ritual's power.
For what felt like an eternity, Rhea felt as if she was drowning in an endless void, her mind consumed by a maelstrom of chaotic thoughts and emotions. Her body felt heavy, as if weighed down by a crushing weight, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was how it felt to die.
Yet, suddenly, a presence emerged from the darkness, a force that emanated raw power and malevolence. It was as if the very essence of death had coalesced into a single entity, and Rhea could feel it probing at the edges of her consciousness.
Rhea could not help but be drawn to this presence. It was a force of such terrible majesty that she could not help but feel a sense of awe, even as it threatened to consume her entirely. For a moment, Rhea felt as though she was being pulled towards the presence, her very being at risk of being absorbed by its malevolent power.
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Wake up, princess
The voice awoke the princess, her consciousness returning almost immediately. She was alone, but she was not in her bedroom. All around her was an empty void, dark as the night sky if the stars were ripped away from it. She then turned towards the direction of the voice which called for her. She saw nothing, but she tried to call out to the unknown regardless.
"Who are you? And more importantly, where is this place?"
"Mortals have given me many names in the past: deathbringer, harbinger of ruin, and all else in between. Now it is my turn to ask, why did you seek me?"
The voice spoke with great authority: it was thunderous, fearsome, and yet somehow familiar. Rhea instinctively recognized who the voice belonged to. She knew well who Vhael was, he was a god once, before he was condemned to live in the underworld by the other gods in the Ishgrian pantheon for the sin of murdering several gods. Where the gods of Ishgria were Damely known for their virtues such as loyalty, courage, and strength. Vhael was known as the embodiment of death, destruction, and ruin. In current time, the fallen god had become a greater demon, master of profane entities which inhabited the underworld.
“Harbinger, I have come to ask you for aid,” Rhea announced, her voice shaking slightly.
A throaty laugh boomed and echoed around her, causing her heart to race. She hoped it was a good sign that her request had amused the harbinger.
“Princess of Ishgria, your hubris amuses me,” Vhael replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You may speak your demands.”
Rhea's eyes darted around, trying to locate the source of the voice. She felt as if Vhael was observing her every movement, every breath, even though she couldn't see him.
“I wish to return to the realm of the living, but not without your blessing.”
“Why should I offer you my power?” The deathbringer questioned. “Many have beseeched my blessings before. You are neither the first nor will you be the last.”
"Because the other gods have forsaken me, and I have beseeched them countless times to no avail. So I have come to beseech you now, deathbringer, for the simple fact you may actually answer."
“You are more fortunate than you know, Princess.” Vhael replied.
"Pardon?" Rhea asked, a hint of confusion in her voice..
"It is nothing," Vhael said dismissively. "Answer me this, Princess of Ishgria, do you truly wish to abandon your mortality?"
Rhea took a deep breath and spoke with a steely resolve. "Yes, for if I am to forge the empire of my dreams, a mortal shell will not be sufficient."
A chalice materialized before Rhea. She reached out, her hand hesitantly grasping the stem of the cup. She marveled at the intricate imagery etched into its surface, which depicted Vhael’s descent into the underworld in detail. The liquid within was a deep, rich scarlet, and it swirled with an otherworldly energy that made Rhea’s skin prickle with unease. Yet, she felt strangely drawn to the chalice, as if it was calling for her.
"Drink from the chalice, and you will receive what you seek."
Rhea brought the chalice close to her lips. The pungent smell of the blood contained within it nearly made her spill its contents. Yet, before she consumed the drink, her thoughts were reminded of Remuria and her devotion. The princess knew that if she were to forsake her mortality, Remuria would need to be by her side.
"What of Remuria, will she be able to partake in your gifts, Vhael?"
The princess could not see the fallen god, for the blackness of the abyss covered everything around her. Yet, somehow, she could feel as if the harbinger of ruin was smiling.
"Remuria, yes, I am familiar with that name. She has already received my gifts."
Curious, Rhea thought to herself. She must speak with Remuria once she returns to the realm of the living. And so, the Princess of Ishgria drank from the chalice of Vhael. Pain immediately wracked her body, and she began convulsing in the darkness, alone.
Rhea slowly came to consciousness and blinked her eyes open, she was greeted by a worried Remuria.
"Rhea, thank the gods you're awake! I was so scared." Remuria breathed out in relief.
"How long was I out?" Rhea asked, her voice hoarse and weak.
"Three days and two nights, you were so cold... I thought you had left me," Remuria's voice cracked with emotion.
Rhea lifted a hand to her wrist, feeling the chill of her skin and the absence of a pulse. Panic began to stir within her.
"Remuria, do I look different?"
"Yes, Rhea. You were so pale and weak before, but now you look much better."
The princess did not pay much attention to her servant’s praise, for she was still adjusting herself to the new sounds she could hear. Though she had no heartbeat of her own, she could hear the heartbeat of others clearly like a thrumming in her mind.
"Your heart is beating rapidly, Remuria, is there something you’re not telling me?" asked Rhea as she turned towards her servant. On her part, Remuria did not look surprised by the question, but rather, mildly intrigued. Her facial expression almost made it seem as if she had expected things to work out the way they did.
"What do you wish to know, Rhea?"
"Tell me honestly, do I look different?"
Remuria grabbed a nearby handheld mirror, and offered it to the princess. When Rhea gazed upon her visage, she couldn't believe that it was her own reflection staring back at her. Rhea marveled at herself, the beauty that greeted her was so ethereal, so otherworldly, it almost felt like she was looking at a different person. The only blemish on her nigh-perfect face were her scarlet eyes, an unnatural color that marked her as something not quite human. Perhaps this was a sign of the new powers flowing through her very being.
"Are you pleased with your new appearance?" Remuria asked as Rhea examined her new appearance.
"I am, yet, you seem as if you were expecting this outcome, Remuria, that I would make it out of the ritual alive," Rhea stated, turning towards Remuria.
Remuria's eyes darted back and forth as she considered her words carefully. She bit her lower lip and chewed it gently, trying to come up with the right response. Her fingers fidgeted nervously, tapping against her thigh as she struggled to find the right words to say.
"Tell me, Remuria, what have you been hiding from me? I promise I will not chastise you, I simply wish to be informed."
"If that is your wish, then it shall be done," Remuria replied with a hint of hesitation, before taking a deep breath and continuing.
Remuria knew what she needed to do. With a snap of her fingers, a cloud of inky black smoke enveloped her body, shrouding her in darkness. As the smoke dissipated, it revealed a stunning transformation. A pair of imposing horns had erupted from her forehead, wicked and curving backwards into a spiral. Majestic feathered wings, black as midnight, spread out from her back, seemingly imbued with a dark energy. A barbed tail, coiled and ready to strike, now swayed menacingly between her legs. To the average person, Remuria was now the very embodiment of a demon, a fearsome and intimidating sight. But Rhea was no ordinary person. She took in every detail, from the curve of Remuria’s horns to the texture of her wings. Rhea only felt one emotion: awe.
"How long were you able to do this?" Rhea asked, her eyes fixed on Remuria.
"Since the day before we first met,"
"Why did you never speak of this to me?"
Remuria hesitated, her normally calm demeanor faltering. The princess’s query seemed to have struck a nerve. She struggled to find the right words, her throat feeling tight with emotion.
"Remuria, look at me," said Rhea as she clasped Remuria's shoulders and stared directly at her. "There is nothing you can say that would make me forsake you. Whatever you say, I will take it in good faith that you did what you did for my sake."
Remuria finally met Rhea's gaze. She took a deep breath and, with a trembling voice, began to speak. "I didn’t want you to think ill of me Princess, I was never quite human."
"I will not pry any further for now, all I want to know is will you continue to follow me?"
Remuria gave a curt bow and replied, "Even if you go into the abyss, Princess, I will gladly follow."