Cherreads

Chapter 1 - The Begining

The Genesis of Balance

"Long ago, in an age when the world itself was being painstakingly reshaped, there lived a goddess of unparalleled beauty. From her divine essence, she harnessed the primal forces of creation, wielding the power to weave both good and evil into existence. With a single, shimmering strand of her silver hair, she brought forth her own perfect reflection, a human embodiment of grace and power. And from the delicate parings of her nails, she forged five formidable warriors, each destined to play a pivotal role in the newly forming world. With her very breath, she conjured a beast, deadly and unswervingly loyal.

Yet, amidst this grand creation, tragedy struck. She was betrayed by her own lover, a cruel twist of fate that saw her struck down by a wielding blade. Her pure blood spilled, mingling with the lifeblood of her lover, who too met his end in that same fateful moment. As their blood intertwined, it reached her human reflection, searing into its very core.

The evil blood corrupted half of the reflection's heart, inking it in black, while the other half remained a vibrant, pure crimson.

With the last vestiges of her strength, the goddess shed her tears, bestowing a final, poignant gift upon her reflection: a sacred act that sealed the curse within its heart."

"What happened after?" a small voice excitedly questioned. The woman smiled at her daughter while she tucked her into bed, her own silver hair braided back and a crown settled on her head. "Well, my dear," she began, her voice soft and melodic, "with the curse sealed, the reflection, now both light and shadow, woke into a world without its creator. The five warriors, bound by their divine origin, sought to understand their purpose, while the loyal beast roamed, guardian of a forgotten promise. And the blood that spilled, it didn't just vanish... it became something else entirely."

"Yet, the true horror unfurled not in the skies or on the plains, but in the hallowed ground where the goddess had fallen. The pure blood that had gushed from her divine wound, mingling with the lifeblood of her treacherous lover, did not simply vanish into the earth. Instead, it defied oblivion, pulsating with a vile, unholy energy. It writhed, it congealed, and then, with a sickening squelch, it began to shape itself.

From the very flesh of the fallen lover, twisted and resurrected by the corrupted ichor, an evil creation began to rise. It was a grotesque vessel, a mockery of life, animated solely by the intertwined blood. Its form was an abomination, half-familiar, half-monstrous, a constant, agonizing reminder of betrayal and desecration. This creature, a living testament to a love turned to poison, was not born of creation but of its inverse – a dark mirror to the goddess's artistry, now set loose upon a world still finding its footing."

"And that, my dear," the woman concluded, her eyes holding a glint of ancient wisdom, "is where their journey truly began. The Reflection, torn between its light and shadow, the warriors seeking their destiny, the beast guarding its forgotten vow, and the abomination of blood and betrayal. Their paths, inevitably, were destined to intertwine in the newly orphaned world."

The woman's smile, warm and comforting just moments before, wavered, then fractured. It wasn't a slow dissolve, but an abrupt, almost glitching break, like a film reel snagging and tearing. Her daughter, a small voice of excitement turned to a gasp of horror, sprang to her feet, her gaze fixed on her mother's suddenly distorted face.

Then, the cozy bedroom vanished. The scent of storybooks and lavender was replaced by the acrid sting of smoke and the searing breath of fire.

A thunderous boom vibrated through the very earth, and the palace grounds reeled. The little girl, no longer a listener but suddenly a participant, found a thorn journal in her hand, its worn cover digging into her palm. Her necklace, cold against her skin moments ago, now swung wildly, threatening to whip across her face.

The elegant palace, a familiar comfort in the story, was no longer a grand setting; it was a living inferno, an unstoppable blaze consuming everything within its walls. Amidst the shaking ground and the encroaching flames, her parents—the king and queen from the tale—were there. They offered her sorrowful smiles, their faces etched with a profound despair, as they wrapped her in a final, tear-soaked hug.

That embrace, a desperate mixture of love and urgency, was the last she would feel from them.

Pushing away, her eyes, now the princess's eyes, scanned the chaotic floor. She found the almost invisible seam of a hidden mechanism. With trembling fingers, she activated it, and a section of the stone floor groaned open, revealing the black maw of a tunnel below. Smoke already stung her eyes, and the heat pressed in, but the promise of escape, however terrifying, propelled her forward. She scrambled down into the suffocating darkness, the sounds of the collapsing palace a chilling echo as the hidden entrance sealed shut behind her.

More Chapters