"What a nice view, it only happens once a millennia or so."
A giant planet could be seen falling down toward a vast ocean, the debris that had fallen off of it light the sky blue, being the only source of light.
The ocean itself was calm, undisturbed by the ongoing phenomena, no waves, no ripples, like a surface of a mirror itself.
"So what brings you down here? Not many venture down here, and none return."
Standing on the ocean's surface was a figure, indiscernible from the surrounding if not for his voice, like a thousand melodies smashed into one, creating a horrible sound.
He was ankle deep in the vast ocean of unfathomable depths. He turned himself towards the listener.
Wherever his gaze fell, monsters—the only word that could be used to describe the disfigured, asymmetrical figures, who looked as if someone stitched together mannequins of humans and beasts together in order to create some twisted artform.
The monsters growled, snarled at the figure, but shook and took steps back, shivering in fear.
The figure's gaze landed at the 'visitor', who was kneeling on the shore, a drop of red blood fell on white sand, the visitor was bleeding from his eyes.
"Looks like you don't have much time left human, speak."
"A-a…"
"Lost already? Your kind ventured here without proper equipment, what were they thinking?"
He raised the 'visitor's' chin with his finger.
"I see."
He said, looking into the eye, his nail extended, biting into the flesh of the man before him, dark veins started spreading from that point, then just as it began, the figure retracted its finger, and veins disappeared.
"Interesting plan you have, sadly to summon me to your world you need a gate twice that size."
He said, pointing to the giant planet that was still falling.
"and with your current technology that is impossible, hmmm."
He ripped off his pinky and fed it to the human.
"open a gate, that fragment should act as a temporary vessel, you understand me?"
The human nodded and took out a knife and stabbed himself into the heart, disappearing into sparks.
The figure turned around and continued staring into the sky.
"The allure of freedom, I don't know if I should call it idealistic or idiocratic."
***
All those who gaze at fate have the power to prophesize the lives of others at the cost of their own, and to those reading this, remember: all prophecies made at the cost of a soul, no matter how insignificant, will come true. ~ Anamorth, the First Seer
Have you ever had your life shattered by the words of an outsider? That was Roanne's fate—discarded before she was even born. If not for her mother's insistence, she would not have been born at all.
But today might change that. Today, she might finally be noticed and heard. That was her dearest wish, because today was her day of awakening.
Awakening was the most important part of human life, more than their birthday, their anniversary, job interview, or whatever a person considered important. That was the single truth in this world.
In this world filled with a myriad of species like vampires, werewolves, beastkin, elves, dragons, and many more, humans were not the most efficient, not the most dexterous, nor the most long-lived species.
In a world where they were outclassed in combat by beastkin, technologically outmatched by the dwarfs, and outlived by vampires, elves, and dragons, humans were able to maintain supremacy because of one single factor. It wasn't their adaptability nor their sheer numbers—the first had its limits while the other was insignificant against raw power. It was the existence of gifts. Every human at the age of 15 awakens a gift that is a totally random ability. A gift could manifest in many forms: an affinity, an artifact, a beast, and so on and so forth.
But not all gifts were equal, just like how not every person would wield their gifts in a similar fashion.
Standing in a large throne room was a girl, her dry skin clinging tightly to her bones, her disheveled hair brittle and dull black, devoid of any luster, dressed in a single clothing, but when compared to the people in the room, it might as well be called rags.
Though born a royal, the girl showed a demeanor that was no better than an orphan raised in the slums
Being under the gazes of countless men and women was overwhelming to her, which showed clearly in the way she trembled and kept her eyes stuck to the ground.
That girl was Roanne, and her only thought at the moment was about how much she missed the silence of the annex. The throne room was silent too, but it made the hairs on her skin stand. She could feel countless gazes; it was a terrifying experience for someone who had long been used to being alone.
The head ritualist struck his staff against the floor, attracting attention from everyone present.
"The awakening ceremony of the imperial princess Roanne Astraeus shall now commence. Princess, please step on the ritual circle," he said flatly, in a dry tone as if reciting a prewritten script.
'All this waste for a child prophesied to be dead during awakening,' were the Ritualist's thoughts.
Everyone looked uninterested, some staring at the screen of their phone. Even the king himself was talking to his advisor instead of looking at the ceremony.
"Um… yes."
Roanne didn't notice. She had a terrible headache ever since she came back from the forest. The strange thing was she didn't remember coming back; the last memory of her time in the forest cut off at a point where she was chewing on some berries to appease her hunger. The headache only grew when she tried to remember, so she simply gave up and walked towards the ritual circle and sat down inside it as per instruction.
Humans did not need any outside assistance during awakening, but human ingenuity had found ways to positively influence it in a way as to enhance the power of the gift. This method was, of course, limited only to those with power, connection, and resources. While Roanne had none, she was a princess of the empire, and that came with its privileges.
It was the empire's way of showing the difference between those with royal bloodline and others. Even nobles only had awakening ceremonies for first and second children, and here an ignored, neglected princess who looked no better than a street rat was getting one just because she was a princess.
The ritual began. Everything was proceeding as normal until Roanne felt her heart thumping loudly in her chest. The thumping grew, slowly in sync with the pulsing glow of the ritual circle. It was unnoticeable at first, then a few people heard it and turned towards the source. Eventually, only the thumping sound could be heard in the hall as everyone's gaze was fixed on the princess.
Then the heart stopped. The circle lost its glow. Normally, this would mean that the ceremony had ended, but something was wrong, as the princess' already pale skin lost its remaining vitality. Her hair fell from her head. Her eyes lost their remaining shine.
At that point, a single thought, or rather an old memory, was playing in the heads of everyone present.
Sixteen years ago, on the day the princess was conceived, a seer renowned across the empire came to the castle.
She stormed across the meeting hall, looked the king dead in the eye, and spoke.
She said, "The 11th princess of the empire shall die on the eve of her awakening. Maggots shall feast upon her flesh as her soul is claimed by the abyss itself. Kill the child before that day—only then will the empire survive the catastrophe her death will bring."
It took countless pleas and careful negotiations to prevent the seer's immediate execution. Seers were too valuable; to kill one for speaking harsh truths to a king would have been a waste
So the seer was imprisoned, forced to work as a slave to the empire, spewing prophecies. But she never stopped speaking of that prophecy. Every chance she got, even as her body and mind grew old—a toll from the overuse of her gift—she would always say, "Kill the child. The only way to salvation is to kill the child."
Most dismissed her as insane at first. They called her mad. But as her other prophecies came true, aiding the empire, a seed of doubt was planted, one that only grew until it engulfed the empire whole.
It seemed as though the prophecy had come true.
But then the thumping resumed. The princess's skin writhed, as if something moved beneath it.
She finally fell, lying on the floor. There was a strange chill permeating through the halls, flowing towards the room.
Something started poking out of the princess's shirt, followed by the sound of flesh tearing.
Finally, the shirt tore, no longer holding on, revealing a grotesque sight: a hand was protruding out of the princess's chest.
Spurt.
This was followed by other limbs, until a bloodied child could be seen sitting on the princess's body, which had become a dried husk.
Then the child aged right in front of their eyes.
Pale white skin, lustrous black hair, and bright purple eyes—she looked exactly like the princess if she were well fed and cared for.
The being—Roanne—looked around the hall, meeting every eye, completely unbothered by her lack of clothes, a stark contrast to her previous demeanor.
"Awakening sometimes drastically changes a person." That was what they told themselves when she met their eyes.
Their pride would not allow them to admit the simple truth—even to themselves—that they were afraid. Afraid of those eyes that looked curious, yet held none of the warmth a human should possess.
"Ahem. Princess, what's your gift?"
The head ritualist was quick to gather his wits.
The being—Roanne—looked at him and tilted her head.
Then a transformation occurred. Her hair retracted, and she grew a few inches taller.
It continued until it became evident that
The one standing on the circle was a man; everyone could clearly see that.
"A hermaphrodite?" a scholar muttered. His voice was heard by everyone.
Their gazes shifted from signs of fear to pure disgust. The princess had awakened a useless gift.
A gift that made her lose value as a political pawn for marriage. After all, no one would take a woman who could turn into a man as a wife. There were some sick bastards who would, but she was a princess. Their name would be smeared all across the empire—a scandal, a social death.
The king looked at his advisor and said,
"Kill the seer. Her words did not come true. The princess is alive."
The advisor stared at the king, unsure how to speak.
"What is it?" the king asked.
"My liege, the seer passed away this morning."
The king stared blankly at his advisor, then hesitantly asked,
"What were her last words?"
"The princess shall die on the eve of her awakening."