Blood.
Tears.
Ash.
Such is the common sights one would see at a battlefield. Yet this wasn't a battlefield. Those killed weren't consenting in their deaths. They made no political move to anger anyone, they simply existed. What you would call innocent. Victims of tragedy and tension.
The smoke builds up into the air, turning the already night sky even darker, as if the god of death was laughing from above. Laughing with a grin so integrated with malice that to an onlooker, it would seem as if the world itself was showing disgust.
Screams of despair and pleas for survival are quickly silenced amid the flames of chaos. Streams of blood sink into the ground just outside the manor, its pearly white color stained in liquid vitality. Blood painting the ground and bathing the soil. The sky only growing darker at this. The assaulters howl with each drop of blood they shed, unaware that this act doesn't make them free, only chained dogs only good for one purpose.
Men laugh at their sins as they behead the innocent, their only worry being whether or not they'll get paid extra for being efficient with their kills. 'Such an easy job. Wonder what I'll spend this pouch of silver on, probably more rum!' The thoughts of someone who's losing their emotions day by day, the only act giving their life any meaning being taking other's.
Such is the cruelty of humanity.
For there to be society, there must be structure. That structure will always be unequal, and it'll always breed envy/greed. Such desires cause wars, death, and retribution in an endless cycle. It's that same inequality in a system that makes a person at the bottom of the societal latter want to do anything - no matter how frowned upon or taboo to obtain it. In their favor.
In truth, the solution to this problem is a strong justice force within that society to deter this behavior.. but in a world where such actions become second nature, where even the king looks down upon the victims of a massacre for being weak, there is no such justice system. At least none that aids the common folk. The world needs its own harbringer, and one that corrects the imbalance.
-
Stella Ashborn lay there in a pile of her own blood, vision clouding with her own tears as the recognizable screams of her family slowly fades away. Dead eyes, a gaze devoid of color as she stares at the sky, looking at the smoke. Hating how her life turned out, and ended.
'Why...?'
Would be the only question on her mind as her plain white dress gets sticky in her pool of blood. She looks up at the sky in resignation, when she sees what resembles a creature. No - a god, if you could call it that.. The clouds forming a face that stares down at her with a condescending smirk, as if studying her with a thought 'How weak.'
In her last moments, she hated that smirk, and vowed to erase such a look from the world. It's a stain, a curse on the world that such humans breathe the same air as her. If she were to survive, which was impossible, she'd kill every evil, slay every demon.
After all, that same evil killed her family mercilessly over a land dispute. Murdered innocents for their own gain, and wouldn't lose sleep over it.. It was her calling to eradicate such parasites from the world. And it was as if the world itself resonated with her vision, feeling that a culling was needed on humanity.
Feeling her strength fading, she finally gave in to the inevitable, letting her vision fade as the darkness itself claimed her soul.
'Fucking beasts.'
-
'Child. Our visions align. Yet power is not granted, it's earned. Prove yourself capable of wielding it with this gift I shall bestow upon you, and don't waste my time. I'll be watching, so don't go astray. You may be weak, but grow strong. Rewrite the world as you see it, how it should truly be. Restore balance to this crumbling world. Admittedly, this is my dirty work being passed onto you, but you don't want to die, do you? You want to change the fate of others with your own hands, don't you?
So go.
Be the change.