author's note: And I am back! Hello there. Here's what you've all been waiting for and I hope I'll live up to your expectations. This will be still connected with the whole Heaven and Hell but the story would be focusing on Solis and Luna. This is their story after all. So sit back and prepare for a freight of plots and loves! (i'll try to go for weekly updates) thank you, thank you!
Tweet me up @NicAthena
also, dedicated to @solarwei for the beautiful cover! thank you! x
- Athena
* * *
"I do not fear the monsters,
I fear my haunted self."
* * *
There was but one girl standing in the middle of fluctuating creaking wooden boards of the ocean. It was a misty filled crystallizing chasm of blue, the water in a slumbering state of stillness. A land this pale and ashen white had no qualms in welcoming intruders, nor did the girl in a red dress offering nothing but her vacant stare.
Not a sound could be heard. No air, no chiming of bells, no breaths, just a suspended deafening silence of restraint. The girl was in her own solace, always caught in every soul's thoughts, until: a scream. A scream so loud and harsh it broke her. Hands pressed against her ears, she gave a shrill, piercing through the tranquil state of purgatory. And there she felt the sharp lashes of whips mark her pastel skin, the alabaster red coating the entire body, waiting and waiting. For what?
For the release of emotions.
The girl cried out for years, the caged spirits watching over her as she transformed into something more fitting for the throne, a young woman now in a rightful age to contain the many responsibilities a queen must carry. Her bloody hair flying over every direction, the sheen sweat trickling down her temple and there was a glazed look in her eyes: defiance against the prisoners. The welts, bruises, and marks she carried now held a promise for she now felt every damaging emotion: love, kindness, and loneliness.
Just as the transition had completed, the Angels of Death came and surrounded her, implanting words and whispers as she struggled to break through the bonds. One Death Angel, the one with a half face of demon and another of an angel, produced a book and flipped through the pages. Its eyes were manic and peaceful, a wild one who dared not speak. But that was her purpose: she had the ability to speak their words, any of the old languages and there she had the power to influence any of these celestial beings.
The Death Angels casted their eyes down, however, that did not stop her from understanding them.
She could read them. Comprehend them.
"Bring The Executioner."
No. She wanted to tell them no.
A man with a haunted face came, seeking her. When he gave her his time, he did not say anything. He watched her be tortured. He watched them bind her to him. He was a man with a blank look, devoid of anything but his thoughts were damaging.
The leading official of Angel of Deaths summoned something deep beneath the lurking waters and passed it on the man. In turn, he stared at her as he licked the artifact, savoring the crown he now held. A pit in her stomach told her she had to run away, fast. Away from this Executioner, but she could not for she was queen. The Last Queen of Purgatory.
The crown was made of links and chains, a symbol of being the Queen of Prisoners. Engraved on its solid charcoal were languages, stringing pieces of control in this dominion. As easily as it had appeared, the crown immediately settled itself on her head, casting threads around her arms and the invisible link and filament of choker locked on her neck.
"Will you, Queen of Purgatory, reign in absolute silence and defy Heaven and Hell?"
She choked on something, a stone of some sort. "May it be done according to your will."
The Angels of Death turned to face The Executioner, biting his lower lip and drawing blood. "And will you, The Executioner, stand by the Queen in times of resurgence of laws, testaments and commandments?"
"May it be done according to my will."
The scythes they carried carved a linkage on his neck, one that made her lose the breath she had just regained. It did not stop there. The nexus was also on his torso, signifying the oath they had taken.
From there on, the lost souls bowed to them, only one throne settling atop the cold. The throne that had blockages and prison bars, another binding.
She had been queen, but she had never once sat upon it. It was always him with his glacial eyes, daring her to act against him. She did, all the time, and he would sit her on his lap and humiliate her in front of their own territory. He would not say anything, simply wave his hand and order those lost souls to fall in line and await for her verdict. Her verdict was not kind, always so cruel. If she wasn't, he'd strip her naked and show her battered changed body for the spirits to see.
There were no tears.
The Queen had expected this.
It was her fate.
But her sanity could only take so much.
He loved her, obsessed her, possessed her like a marionette. He controlled her every move, asked her which soul should be delivered in Hell. It was his duty and he also made it sure he brought her with him whenever he'd descend in the pit.
He did not speak to her, not once. His lethal love drove her to lunacy and there was no going back.
YOU ARE READING
Defying Oblivion
Fantasy"Will you, Queen of Purgatory, reign in absolute silence and defy Heaven and Hell?" "May it be done according to your will." "And will you, The Executioner, stand by the Queen in times of resurgence of laws, testaments, and commandments?" "May it be...
