Mnemosyne
Confectionary Queen
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It could be said that the day began like any other. The sun sleepily peeked over the horizon, but the faint haze of mist clinging to the damp hills dulled it's glow to a watery pink, giving the surroundings a rosy hue not natural to the area. In the east, the faint chirping of birds could be heard. In the opposite direction, the distant crashing of waves was the only indicator as to how close the site was to the coast. On a clear day, the faint shimmering of the sun off the water could be seen, but that was not the case on this morning. No, on this morning the site seemed to be lost to a world of its own.
The forms rose from the ever-shifting mist, their shapes breaking up the otherwise level horizon. They were blocky, unrefined and undefined, seemingly meaningless, or perhaps even natural. They stood silent and yet ominous, like icebergs just barely breaking the surface of the sea, hidden, and yet dangerous. The only shape that stood out was the single column, perched at the pinnacle of the tallest hill, breaking through the heavy shroud that covered the lower ground, with the rising sun reflecting off the shining white marble. It seemed almost a beacon, calling travelers through the mist as a lighthouse guides sailors safely to the coast.
But the path to that shining pillar was narrow, winding its way through the mist as it slowly circled its way up the hill, between those shapes, and soon the nature of the site became apparent. The only word fitting for the site was ruin. Those were blocks, made of the same white marble as the column. They had been part of the same building, once, but those days were now over. They became visible through the mist as the distance was closed, overgrown by vines and moss, as though the very earth itself was trying to swallow it up, to drag the last hints of it out of existence, until it remained only in memories, though those too would fade in time.
And perhaps this was the case, that the earth was trying to bury this, for it quickly became clear that it was not the passing of time that had laid low such a mighty structure. It had not been forgotten, deserted, or abandoned. It had not been left to lay fallow, slowly neglected over time until the last of those tending to it faded away. It had not defied the very laws of gravity and paid the price, nor been worn away by wind and water, until it could no longer stand. It had not passed out of use through any cause of nature.
No, for those towering stones told a story, one etched into their very being, visible even still, despite the passing of time. They wore their battle scars like any proud warrior would. Gouges etched in their faces, made by some fearsome beast with claws as hard as stone. Coverings of ash and scorch marks. Some, even, were crushed completely, as though they'd been set upon by some force well beyond a mortal's capacity to understand, rended in a fierce battle beyond comprehension, the very God Wars themselves. They had been through a bloodbath, fought, and lost. The once mighty structure had been thrown down from the heights, pillaged and ravaged by its enemies, torn apart until there was nothing left, save that one defiant survivor standing firm in the center of it all, as if to prove that with all it had borne, it was still there, that it would not submit and be lost to the ravages of time.
And it was here, almost at the very edge of the world, as most knew it, that the heroes had been called. Called to fight once again, but not for control of the world, as the battle so long ago had been, but to save the world. For though it was a dark time, just as that column, a very pillar of light, shone out through the darkness, the light still stood, and would not abandon the world it had created, that it so loved. No, it would bring forth its champions, to shine forth for the world and guide them through the troubles, to whatever end.
But the burden was not theirs to bear alone, for while it was them who would reshape the world around, they were not left to do so without aid. The temple where they had been called was not quite so empty as it had first appeared. For there, amidst the ruins of times long past, sat the girl, settled at the foot of the beacon that had drawn her there. Slim and yet beautiful, with golden hair that shone like the sun, and eyes of brilliant blue, deeper than the ocean. The wings folded across her back, as white as freshly fallen snow, marked her race for all to see. Dressed only in a thin white dress, she was exposed to the biting chill of the wind, which over the past weeks had been growing steadily colder as winter dug its freezing grip into the northern lands. And yet she did nor shiver, nor seek shelter, but sat completely unaffected. Waiting calmly to fulfill her duty. For the heroes to come, as it was foretold they would.
And finally, as the sound of footsteps rang out on the stone path winding its way through the ruins, the lifted her head, piercing eyes seeking out the source of the noise. The figure was still a while off, picking their way through the tangled maze of stone and earth, but they stood out amidst the mist, the cover which was beginning to dissipate in the vibrant sunshine, in which it could not stand. And she, from her high spot near the single standing pillar, saw them. The heroes were beginning to arrive. And finally, finally, it had begun.
It could be said that the day began like any other. The sun sleepily peeked over the horizon, but the faint haze of mist clinging to the damp hills dulled it's glow to a watery pink, giving the surroundings a rosy hue not natural to the area. In the east, the faint chirping of birds could be heard. In the opposite direction, the distant crashing of waves was the only indicator as to how close the site was to the coast. On a clear day, the faint shimmering of the sun off the water could be seen, but that was not the case on this morning. No, on this morning the site seemed to be lost to a world of its own.
The forms rose from the ever-shifting mist, their shapes breaking up the otherwise level horizon. They were blocky, unrefined and undefined, seemingly meaningless, or perhaps even natural. They stood silent and yet ominous, like icebergs just barely breaking the surface of the sea, hidden, and yet dangerous. The only shape that stood out was the single column, perched at the pinnacle of the tallest hill, breaking through the heavy shroud that covered the lower ground, with the rising sun reflecting off the shining white marble. It seemed almost a beacon, calling travelers through the mist as a lighthouse guides sailors safely to the coast.
But the path to that shining pillar was narrow, winding its way through the mist as it slowly circled its way up the hill, between those shapes, and soon the nature of the site became apparent. The only word fitting for the site was ruin. Those were blocks, made of the same white marble as the column. They had been part of the same building, once, but those days were now over. They became visible through the mist as the distance was closed, overgrown by vines and moss, as though the very earth itself was trying to swallow it up, to drag the last hints of it out of existence, until it remained only in memories, though those too would fade in time.
And perhaps this was the case, that the earth was trying to bury this, for it quickly became clear that it was not the passing of time that had laid low such a mighty structure. It had not been forgotten, deserted, or abandoned. It had not been left to lay fallow, slowly neglected over time until the last of those tending to it faded away. It had not defied the very laws of gravity and paid the price, nor been worn away by wind and water, until it could no longer stand. It had not passed out of use through any cause of nature.
No, for those towering stones told a story, one etched into their very being, visible even still, despite the passing of time. They wore their battle scars like any proud warrior would. Gouges etched in their faces, made by some fearsome beast with claws as hard as stone. Coverings of ash and scorch marks. Some, even, were crushed completely, as though they'd been set upon by some force well beyond a mortal's capacity to understand, rended in a fierce battle beyond comprehension, the very God Wars themselves. They had been through a bloodbath, fought, and lost. The once mighty structure had been thrown down from the heights, pillaged and ravaged by its enemies, torn apart until there was nothing left, save that one defiant survivor standing firm in the center of it all, as if to prove that with all it had borne, it was still there, that it would not submit and be lost to the ravages of time.
And it was here, almost at the very edge of the world, as most knew it, that the heroes had been called. Called to fight once again, but not for control of the world, as the battle so long ago had been, but to save the world. For though it was a dark time, just as that column, a very pillar of light, shone out through the darkness, the light still stood, and would not abandon the world it had created, that it so loved. No, it would bring forth its champions, to shine forth for the world and guide them through the troubles, to whatever end.
But the burden was not theirs to bear alone, for while it was them who would reshape the world around, they were not left to do so without aid. The temple where they had been called was not quite so empty as it had first appeared. For there, amidst the ruins of times long past, sat the girl, settled at the foot of the beacon that had drawn her there. Slim and yet beautiful, with golden hair that shone like the sun, and eyes of brilliant blue, deeper than the ocean. The wings folded across her back, as white as freshly fallen snow, marked her race for all to see. Dressed only in a thin white dress, she was exposed to the biting chill of the wind, which over the past weeks had been growing steadily colder as winter dug its freezing grip into the northern lands. And yet she did nor shiver, nor seek shelter, but sat completely unaffected. Waiting calmly to fulfill her duty. For the heroes to come, as it was foretold they would.
And finally, as the sound of footsteps rang out on the stone path winding its way through the ruins, the lifted her head, piercing eyes seeking out the source of the noise. The figure was still a while off, picking their way through the tangled maze of stone and earth, but they stood out amidst the mist, the cover which was beginning to dissipate in the vibrant sunshine, in which it could not stand. And she, from her high spot near the single standing pillar, saw them. The heroes were beginning to arrive. And finally, finally, it had begun.
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