Gryha walks through the ruins of the land she had been exiled off to almost a hundered years ago.

  The betrayal she had given to her house of xezlia, and her kingdom had led her towards this exile. She had stolen the scroll of pacifying rituals and destroyed it. The treasure to her lord that was gifted to him by Alyssar, the godess of peace and knowledge, so the folks like to believe even though the truth is quite a common fact. Alyssar has never been the one to gift anything to anyone. She has always been biased for the ones who do not see any deity above her. The scroll was stolen, and as concequence, the kingdom of Quilia was cursed by Alyssar that its walls would always be painted in crimson by the blood of the innocents.

  The house of xezlia were the most knowledgeable about the nameless, things and creatures which cannot be unseen once anyone witnesses it, creatures who are not entirely living nor completely dead. They exist beyond the boundaries of realms that are still, fortunately, under the eyes of the divine.

  Gryha still remembers the dreams and visions of the same moment repeatedly. As if those visions were trying to tell her something, which, of course they were. They were no ordinary visions, she still liks to tell herself, they were a warning given to her again and again until she could no longer not mind those. She has, now, forgotten details, yet, the dread still exists somewhere inside her heart. Because she knows that the scroll of pacifying rituals can never be destroyed fully, at least not by the magic of a mere creature like her. It still exists somewhere, somewhere it still exists unseen by the gods...or the monsters. And everyday Gryha hopes, everyday since she first stood on this land, that the scroll may never be found. But today.....the clouds looked restless, just like she had once seen by a memory still unknown.

  She walks through the ruins of every threshold which, at some point, must have been used for every sacred and lost ritual.

  Hundered years. Hundered years she has spent on this land, yet it never fails to discomfort her by its unpredictability. A single stone could be a straight way to Detra, the mistress of death. A quite well-known deity for amusing herself with the souls of those who embrace death by sheer stupidity.

  Gryha's thoughts were interrupted by an unpleasant sound. It rings on a distance and Gryha knows that it's time to hurry and leave this place once and for all. This sound is a warning. A warning telling clearly, at least to her, that the realms are collapsing and existence is about to fall off the edge of balance. Something that she has always dreaded is happening. The scroll has fallen upon the hands of someone she can't win against. No mortal, no immortal, No one, can win against. No one knows it's name. There must be a reason why no one knows who or rather what it is. But for now all Gryha knows is that a breakage is forming right before her. A breakage through boundaries.

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  Deep down Gryha knows that if this is supposed to be the beginning of an end, then the fate has already slipped out of the hands of gods

  With this final thought. She steps into the breakage

  ~☆~

  Ariyene looks up at the sky. She loves dark weather, for some reason it has always given her comfort. But she likes to tell herself that it is all for the vibes. She adjusts the black sneakers she had specifically chosen for this occasion only. The senior's farewell at her school. She is supposed to be anchoring the function today, her favourite thing to do. She is mostly excited about this, probably because......oh right! She is about to tell everyone to fuck off today, since its her last day at school and chances of getting suspended has dropped down to zero.

  Her mother walks up to her, with a frown on her face. Why?

  "Ariyene Mysts."

  Oh, that's full name, she knows she is fucked. Ari slowly turns towards her mom.

  "Yeah?"

  "I DON'T remember raising you in north pole, so care to elaborate why you are not wearing a jacket?"

  Ari scoffs, "umm. I don't need to be raised in the north pole to know when it's cold or very cold. And besides I am wearing this sweater, it's going to be alright. I am not gonna die of hypothermia."

  The familiar flashing of her mother's eyes was a warning not to be given twice. Ari backtracks quickly, "Yeah, right. The jacket. Thank you mom."

  Ari finally took that ugly jacket. Dammit it doesn't even go with her colour code. Ari waits for her mother to turn around and leave so she can quickly stuff the jacket inside her bag instead. But her mother stops mid-step, and turns around again.

  "Your grandpa said to wear this pendant" she says, handing her a red ruby pendant. It is beautiful, like blood trapped inside a crystal. But why did her grandpa decide to give this to her now?

  Before Ari could say another word, her mother leaves. Ari stares at the pendant for a whole minute before she wears it around her neck. Even though she is curious about this thing, something is stopping her from thinking about it too deeply. She grabs her bag, and wears her sneakers.

  "I am leaving!" Ari calls out to her mother before stepping outside the grand door, the words of her mother following her for a brief moment before the door shuts.

  "Be careful!" She had yelled back.

  "The clouds are restless today, ....it feels unfamiliar." Ari mutters under her breath.

  ~☆~