Aria,
goddess of life, sat completely still under the shadow of a massive obsidian
statue that she was chained to by rusted manacles. She was left alone to wallow
in her solitude, her enemies having grown weary from her prolonged defiance.
She
had a face and body that was once said to be the envy of any who would behold
her. However, centuries of extended abuse had left her battered and broken. Her
once pristine white robes were now smeared in patches of dried blood and tears,
milestone markers of her unending agony.
The
statue that towered above her broken form was crafted in the ghastly likeliness
of her nemesis, a demon who took the form of a massive obsidian dragon. They
had fought against the other for control over all creation, a right she had
zealously guarded from those who would defile the sanctity of life.
Twenty
millennia they battled, each bout deadlier than the last. As the aspect of
life, Aria abhorred violence in any form. However, she had little choice but to
take up arms, for if he were allowed to engorge himself on the souls of man, all of creation would eventually fall to his unending hunger.
A
lapse of concentration allowed him to gain the upper hand, causing her defeat. However,
she managed the last laugh in their contest, for she had warded all of creation
from his jaws with her immortal soul. Since then, he had spared no expense in
attempting to break her in order to make her rescind her vow.
She knew that he would have slain her then and there, but as
a divine being, she could never enter death’s door. Knowing this, he set his
minions loose on her, rending and tearing at her in various unspeakable ways
that frayed both body and mind. The fiends even manipulated the flow of time
within her prison, making each second seem like an eternity as they cut at
her flesh with rusted hooks and flayed her with burning chains.
However,
despite all the knives and blades he had so enthusiastically placed into her,
she would not yield, knowing full well that the fate of her children rested
solely upon her. Through her mirror, she knew that her sacrifices had
allowed her children to prosper and thrive. In a way, their happiness was her
comfort, a panacea in the face of her trials.
Eventually,
even he grew weary of her unbreakable spirit, having resorted to countless forms of insidious torment to subjugate her over the millennia. In frustration, he placed upon her a curse that bore the full extent of his hunger and contempt, damning her to stay motionless for all eternity, lest
she unravel her grand design by her own hand.
And
thus, Aria was left alone in a forsaken corner of the endless void, accompanied
only by the likeliness of her rival whose dark visage watched her every waking
moment, as if in cruel mockery of her predicament.
Now, she couldn’t take another step, nor move an inch from her prison, now an open cell as if in mockery of her predicament. While she longed to be free of her shackles, she could not, for that meant destroying everything she had sacrificed so much to
preserve.
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
prev
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing
