Eldoria
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Apocalypse Lore in Fiction
I just read a review of Warhammer 40K yesterday... and yeah, it's truly dark. The world is truly dystopian in the literal sense.
What made me uncomfortable (even just reading its review) was the scale of the apocalypse, the destruction, the darkness, and the despair that reached galactic levels.
I know... a lot of fiction depicts apocalypses on a galactic scale, but what makes Warhammer uncomfortable is how the author describes in detail what causes the apocalypse, how the apocalypse occurs, and its implications for intelligent life. The apocalypse is not described as a cold report but more like a process of moral and physical decay of intelligent life itself (including humans).
The apocalypse is a moral decay spreading through the veins of life causing cosmic destruction.
It's truly terrifying. I dislike it. But on the other hand, the author does succeed in making the reader uncomfortable, he really succeeds in depicting the apocalypse as a cosmic horror that the reader can feel.
If previously I said the rumbling (AoT) was a terrifying depiction of the apocalypse; now after knowing Warhammer 40K, I feel the horror of the rumbling is just a speck of dust compared to the physical and moral destruction of the universe.
Well, as a post-apocalyptic dark fantasy writer, I've also written about apocalypses in a fantasy world. I see similarities between the Warhammer apocalypse and mine, particularly in how moral decay leads to the accumulation of negative emotions that precipitate throughout the universe... and create a god of destruction.
The apocalypse isn't just the end; it's the consequence of the accumulated collective sins of intelligent beings.
The difference is that the scale of destruction in my fiction is smaller than that in the Warhammer 40K universe.
My question is, how do you depict the apocalypse in your fiction?
Note:
If you don't mind, please share your thoughts or published chapters in this thread. Please put your chapter in a spoiler tag to make the thread neater. For an example:
That Night in Rose Valley…
The valley wind carried mist and rose petals toward a wooden house standing atop a green hill. White curtains swayed gently, bringing with them a cold, fragrant breeze as a woman in white pajamas stood before the window.
Her blue eyes blinked as mist descended on the rose field. Her vision blurred and grew blurrier.
A woman clad in a black-and-white kimono stood firmly. Her black hair danced in the misty wind. Crimson eyes pierced into her blue eyes as she clenched her fist.
“Marry… you know this world rot the moment a father killed a mother and discarded his daughter as if she had never existed.”
Her blue eyes widened. Her hands rubbed her eyes. “Hallucinations—” Her lower lip was bit.
"Black Mist..." Marry shook her head. “No! I don’t want to become an executioner again…”
She stood in silence for a moment, letting the stillness soothe her wounds.
…
“Lock!” The sound of the window clicking shut echoed through the pink-walled room.
Marry stepped forward and stopped at the edge of the bed. A faint smile touched her lips as her eyes fell upon her daughter’s small face, wrapped in a soft white fur blanket.
She lifted the blanket and lay down beside her. Her face moved closer to her daughter’s cheek. The warm breath from her daughter’s lips brushed against her palm. Warmth spread through her heart.
"Honey…” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Mommy will endure for you.”
Marry held her daughter tightly on the soft bed. Her eyelids slowly closed as her consciousness drifted into the past.
…
“Drip… drip…” Blood dripped from the tip of the crimson sword blade, wetting the cracked marble floor.
A woman in a red cloak stood tall, sheathing her sword at her waist. Her blue eyes stared at her blood-stained palm. Her fingers trembled briefly before curling into a fist.
Marry walked down a dark corridor. The sound of splashes echoed each time her steps struck the blood-stained floor. The metallic, foul scent pierced her nose.
She stopped before a collapsed altar. One hand pressed against her slightly swollen abdomen—
Marry lowered her head. “Hueekkss…” Bitter fluid splattered onto the marble floor.
“Hah… hah…” Her breath was short as her hand wiped her lips.
“Memorial Ruins… the Memory artifact—” Her teeth clenched. “That damned tyrants!”
Marry straightened herself, patting her chest. Her head tilted upward toward the broken sky above the ruins.
Her eyes widened. “What… is this?!”
Ancient reliefs were carved into the gray marble walls. Mysterious engravings stretched as far as the eye could see.
Marry turned toward the far end of the wall, her gaze tracing the line of carvings.
On the eastern side, reliefs of mages holding wooden staffs were etched into cracked stone. In the second column, armored knights stood in formation, swords in hand, carved into red walls adorned with rose patterns. The final column depicted priests in prayer. At the front, a bishop stood holding a wooden staff.
They were all arranged in a horizontal semicircle formation.
Marry lowered her gaze beneath the formation. More reliefs were carved neatly, depicting people from every walk of life: slaves carrying sacks, farmers holding hoes, merchants gripping pieces of paper, and nobles with lace collars.
Among them were unique figures: an old woman leaning on a cane, a mother carrying her daughter, a man gripping a hoe, a teenage girl covering her mouth, and a little girl crying.
Yet they all shared one thing in common, their faces were turned upward, as if waiting for a miracle.
Marry lifted her head, looking above the formation of soldiers. On the dull gray stone, a mysterious woman was carved, standing with a limp.
She wore tattered clothing. Her messy black hair fell down her back. Her lips curved downward. In both hands, she held a massive scythe.
Above her head, thousands of moths filled the gray wall, as if depicting a sky consumed by insects.
Marry drew in a breath. She stepped closer, her palm touching the marble surface.
Her blue eyes narrowed as she read the ancient text. “This… Latin—” She swallowed. “The Rose Kingdom?!”
Her eyes focused on the worn carvings. The letters were faded and blurred with age.
“In the year ***, the continent of Eldora faced the greatest crisis in its history. After endless conflict, the world entered its darkest era, the Continental War.”
“For years, darkness engulfed the world, seeping into the veins of life. The land was soaked in blood. Corpses rotted. Starving children cried, clutching their stomachs. Girls sold ***. The red earth dried and cracked. The air grew suffocating.”
“We believed the Continental War was the greatest disaster in human history. But we were wrong. It was only the beginning of the true disaster.”
“On the date ***, armies from various allied kingdoms gathered in the central lands of the continent. Millions of knights, archers, spearmen, assassins, mages, and countless warriors stood in formation across the plains. We faced one another, holding our breath, ready for a great war. But then, the sun dimmed. We all turned toward the western horizon—”
“The orange light faded, swallowed by darkness, followed by the sound of fluttering wings. Tiny shadows filled the western sky. Countless moths covered the dusk.”
“The sun slowly set as a mysterious woman stepped from beyond the hill. Her tattered gray dress swayed gently with each step. Her pale skin glowed under the fading light.”
“The mystical figure walked slowly, dragging her left leg, holding a massive scythe as tall as herself. She stopped right before us. She stood still for a moment…"
“Her eyes opened, revealing gray pupils, like the gaze of a corpse. She raised her scythe… and swung it forward—”
“Our vision suddenly went dark. When it returned, our eyes widened in horror.”
“Hundreds of thousands of armored knights collapsed onto the green field. No blood. No wounds. Only wide, unblinking eyes. They died without resistance, like rotting wood falling apart.”
“Our shoulders trembled. We turned toward the western horizon in unison. The figure walked slowly. Wherever she stepped, the green grass withered instantly. As she passed trees, they decayed and crumbled.”
“And her moths swept across sky and land. Trees fell, grass dried, corpses piled, blood scattered, they devoured everything, leaving nothing behind, as if the land had never known life.”
“We wounded ourselves, trying to suppress our fear. We raised our swords. We fired arrows and cast magic. We cast aside our differences, our conflicts, our grudges… for one purpose, to survive against the living disaster. We united and deployed millions of troops, but—”
“WE FAILED.”
“The figure slaughtered millions of our troops as if they were nothing more than rotting wood. And that mystical being? Unharmed, unblinking… her gaze was empty. She limped forward, sweeping across the land.”
“We could only run… and run. Yet that figure continued to scour the continent, slowly, but inevitably. Every breath she took carried the aura of death.”
“We called her the ‘Death Princess.’ She was a Disaster Princess, the harbinger of death to all living things.”
“On the date ***, in the southeastern region of the continent—the final refuge—hundreds of thousands gathered upon a fog-covered plain. People of every race and the last remaining kingdoms assembled for one purpose: to survive for at least one day.”
“We gathered what little strength we had left, raising our hands to the sky. We prayed, hoping to breathe the air of tomorrow. Under the leadership of Archbishop ***, we began the ritual of eternal sealing.”
“That afternoon, from the northern horizon, the Death Princess appeared, we held our breath each time she stepped closer. She stepped upon a gravestone. The Archbishop struck his staff—made from the World Tree—into the ground. The earth trembled… it shook, then—”
Marry touched the final line of ancient text on the cracked marble surface. The next lines were too faded to read.
Her hand pressed against her chest, clutching the collar of her dress. Her heartbeat pounded violently.
“The Death Princess…” Her shoulders trembled.
Marry stood still, her palms pressed against the relief on the cracked wall. Her head was lowered, allowing the silence to soothe her heart.
Her eyes slowly closed as darkness swallowed her consciousness.
…
Her eyes shot open. Marry jolted awake. She sat up, hugging her knees.
“It was just a dream… hah… hah…” Her breath came in ragged gasps. “My old memories?!” Cold sweat trickled down her temple.
She turned to the right, gazing at her daughter’s face resting upon a white pillow. Marry lay back down.
“I’m sorry, honey…” Her hand stroked her daughter's silver hair.
Marry lay in silence. But her mind was in turmoil. Her heart churned.
“Death Princess… Black Mist… we are Disaster Princesses—what am I supposed to do?”
After a while, her breathing gradually steadied. Her blue eyes stared at the dim ceiling.
She whispered, “Mother Earth… please help me…”
Her eyes slowly closed. The world faded into darkness as her consciousness drifted away.
…
Marry opened her eyes once more. Her pupils shrank as light poured into them.
Before her, moss-covered ground shimmered beneath a gentle glow. The wind blew softly, carrying the scent of forest flowers.
Marry parted her lips. “This… a spiritual realm?!”
“Marry…” A gentle, loving voice echoed in her ears. Marry turned, rubbing her eyes.
A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood before her. Her green hair flowed down her back, and her eyes were as deep and untouched as a primordial forest.
Her dress resembled woven leaves and roots, swaying gently like a living symphony of nature.
Behind her stood the colossal silhouette of the World Tree, towering high beyond the clouds.
The woman’s lips parted. “It has been a long time… my Little Rose.”
Her voice was soft, like the first breeze after a long, scorching drought.
Tears welled in Marry’s eyes. “Earth Mother…” Her voice trembled.
Mother Earth extended her arms and embraced her. “Your heart is weary, my child. You don’t need to hide anything from your mother.”
Marry stood still for a moment, resting her chin on her mother’s shoulder. Tears fell, soaking into the green silk.
“I don’t know what to do, Mother. The mist… it’s getting closer. I can feel it… Black Mist… she’s returning.”
Marry clung to her waist. “I don’t know… whether I should face her, reject her, or accept her.”
“She is the sister reborn of your wounds, Marry.” Earth Mother gently stroked her back, as if she were her own child. “Like you… she was reborn not by choice, but from the deepest wounds of the world. Wounds that have yet to heal.”
Marry tightened her embrace. “But if she brings disaster upon the world, like the Death Princess… how can I just let her?”
Earth Mother stroked Marry’s silver hair. “You don’t have to let her. But you also cannot kill her.”
“All of us… are incarnations of the world’s will. You and Black Mist are wounded sisters.”
Earth Mother slowly pulled away. Green eyes like a forest met blue eyes like the sky. “Marry… do you know why we are called Disaster Princesses?”
Marry wiped her tears and nodded faintly.
Earth Mother smiled softly. “We are reborn from the world’s lament.”
“When justice is silenced; when kindness is destroyed; when wounds are mocked… the world weeps.”
“And from its tears, we are reborn. You, me, Black Mist Princess, Death Princess, and three others. We are the answers to the world’s cries.”
Marry gave a faint smile. “So… we are not curses?” Her voice was hoarse.
Earth Mother shook her head. “No. You are a reaction. You are the blade for the voiceless.”
“You are the Blood Rose Princess, the final judge of the dead law. Black Mist Princess is the shadow of oppressed women. The Death Princess is the final answer to a world that has suffered for far too long.”
Marry looked down at her palm. “Can we live normaly?”
Earth Mother fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “Marry… you possess something no other Disaster Princess has ever had.”
Marry’s eyes widened. “What?!”
Earth Mother smiled. “A daughter.”
Marry stepped back, her shoulders tensing.
Earth Mother nodded gently. “Don't worry, Marry. I will protect your daughter.”
“Your daughter is an anomaly of fate. Her existence has changed your lineage. She binds you to the world with love, not anger. She makes you want to protect, not destroy.”
Her green eyes dimmed slightly. “Disaster Princesses are not meant to give birth. We are not ordinary beings. We are half-spirit.”
She pointed at Marry’s chest. “But you can, Marry. You are different. The world has entrusted you with a new possibility.”
Marry trembled. “Why did the world choose me? Is my daughter… Caelan—”
Earth Mother gently placed a finger on Marry’s lips. “That question will be answered in time.”
“For now, protect your daughter. If Black Mist truly comes, do not face her with hatred.”
Marry bit her lip. “Then how should I face her?”
Earth Mother smiled softly. “When your wounds have healed, you will know what to say to her when the time comes.” Her hand rested over her heart. “Marry… if you ever doubt yourself, you can always return to this dream.”
Marry looked at Mother Earth, her eyes shimmering with tears, her lips parting—
“Whoosh…” A gentle wind carried her body away as her consciousness slowly faded.
“Don't forget who you are, my Little Rose,” the soft voice echoed within her heart. “You are not only a disaster, you are also hope that blooms from bloodstained soil.”
…
Marry jolted awake. Her hand gripped the blanket as she turned her head to the right.
Caelan was still asleep in her arms. Her heartbeat gradually steadied, syncing with her daughter.
Marry kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Caelan… Mommy will endure for you—”
The valley wind carried mist and rose petals toward a wooden house standing atop a green hill. White curtains swayed gently, bringing with them a cold, fragrant breeze as a woman in white pajamas stood before the window.
Her blue eyes blinked as mist descended on the rose field. Her vision blurred and grew blurrier.
A woman clad in a black-and-white kimono stood firmly. Her black hair danced in the misty wind. Crimson eyes pierced into her blue eyes as she clenched her fist.
“Marry… you know this world rot the moment a father killed a mother and discarded his daughter as if she had never existed.”
Her blue eyes widened. Her hands rubbed her eyes. “Hallucinations—” Her lower lip was bit.
"Black Mist..." Marry shook her head. “No! I don’t want to become an executioner again…”
She stood in silence for a moment, letting the stillness soothe her wounds.
…
“Lock!” The sound of the window clicking shut echoed through the pink-walled room.
Marry stepped forward and stopped at the edge of the bed. A faint smile touched her lips as her eyes fell upon her daughter’s small face, wrapped in a soft white fur blanket.
She lifted the blanket and lay down beside her. Her face moved closer to her daughter’s cheek. The warm breath from her daughter’s lips brushed against her palm. Warmth spread through her heart.
"Honey…” She kissed her daughter’s cheek. “Mommy will endure for you.”
Marry held her daughter tightly on the soft bed. Her eyelids slowly closed as her consciousness drifted into the past.
…
“Drip… drip…” Blood dripped from the tip of the crimson sword blade, wetting the cracked marble floor.
A woman in a red cloak stood tall, sheathing her sword at her waist. Her blue eyes stared at her blood-stained palm. Her fingers trembled briefly before curling into a fist.
Marry walked down a dark corridor. The sound of splashes echoed each time her steps struck the blood-stained floor. The metallic, foul scent pierced her nose.
She stopped before a collapsed altar. One hand pressed against her slightly swollen abdomen—
Marry lowered her head. “Hueekkss…” Bitter fluid splattered onto the marble floor.
“Hah… hah…” Her breath was short as her hand wiped her lips.
“Memorial Ruins… the Memory artifact—” Her teeth clenched. “That damned tyrants!”
Marry straightened herself, patting her chest. Her head tilted upward toward the broken sky above the ruins.
Her eyes widened. “What… is this?!”
Ancient reliefs were carved into the gray marble walls. Mysterious engravings stretched as far as the eye could see.
Marry turned toward the far end of the wall, her gaze tracing the line of carvings.
On the eastern side, reliefs of mages holding wooden staffs were etched into cracked stone. In the second column, armored knights stood in formation, swords in hand, carved into red walls adorned with rose patterns. The final column depicted priests in prayer. At the front, a bishop stood holding a wooden staff.
They were all arranged in a horizontal semicircle formation.
Marry lowered her gaze beneath the formation. More reliefs were carved neatly, depicting people from every walk of life: slaves carrying sacks, farmers holding hoes, merchants gripping pieces of paper, and nobles with lace collars.
Among them were unique figures: an old woman leaning on a cane, a mother carrying her daughter, a man gripping a hoe, a teenage girl covering her mouth, and a little girl crying.
Yet they all shared one thing in common, their faces were turned upward, as if waiting for a miracle.
Marry lifted her head, looking above the formation of soldiers. On the dull gray stone, a mysterious woman was carved, standing with a limp.
She wore tattered clothing. Her messy black hair fell down her back. Her lips curved downward. In both hands, she held a massive scythe.
Above her head, thousands of moths filled the gray wall, as if depicting a sky consumed by insects.
Marry drew in a breath. She stepped closer, her palm touching the marble surface.
Her blue eyes narrowed as she read the ancient text. “This… Latin—” She swallowed. “The Rose Kingdom?!”
Her eyes focused on the worn carvings. The letters were faded and blurred with age.
“In the year ***, the continent of Eldora faced the greatest crisis in its history. After endless conflict, the world entered its darkest era, the Continental War.”
“For years, darkness engulfed the world, seeping into the veins of life. The land was soaked in blood. Corpses rotted. Starving children cried, clutching their stomachs. Girls sold ***. The red earth dried and cracked. The air grew suffocating.”
“We believed the Continental War was the greatest disaster in human history. But we were wrong. It was only the beginning of the true disaster.”
“On the date ***, armies from various allied kingdoms gathered in the central lands of the continent. Millions of knights, archers, spearmen, assassins, mages, and countless warriors stood in formation across the plains. We faced one another, holding our breath, ready for a great war. But then, the sun dimmed. We all turned toward the western horizon—”
“The orange light faded, swallowed by darkness, followed by the sound of fluttering wings. Tiny shadows filled the western sky. Countless moths covered the dusk.”
“The sun slowly set as a mysterious woman stepped from beyond the hill. Her tattered gray dress swayed gently with each step. Her pale skin glowed under the fading light.”
“The mystical figure walked slowly, dragging her left leg, holding a massive scythe as tall as herself. She stopped right before us. She stood still for a moment…"
“Her eyes opened, revealing gray pupils, like the gaze of a corpse. She raised her scythe… and swung it forward—”
“Our vision suddenly went dark. When it returned, our eyes widened in horror.”
“Hundreds of thousands of armored knights collapsed onto the green field. No blood. No wounds. Only wide, unblinking eyes. They died without resistance, like rotting wood falling apart.”
“Our shoulders trembled. We turned toward the western horizon in unison. The figure walked slowly. Wherever she stepped, the green grass withered instantly. As she passed trees, they decayed and crumbled.”
“And her moths swept across sky and land. Trees fell, grass dried, corpses piled, blood scattered, they devoured everything, leaving nothing behind, as if the land had never known life.”
“We wounded ourselves, trying to suppress our fear. We raised our swords. We fired arrows and cast magic. We cast aside our differences, our conflicts, our grudges… for one purpose, to survive against the living disaster. We united and deployed millions of troops, but—”
“WE FAILED.”
“The figure slaughtered millions of our troops as if they were nothing more than rotting wood. And that mystical being? Unharmed, unblinking… her gaze was empty. She limped forward, sweeping across the land.”
“We could only run… and run. Yet that figure continued to scour the continent, slowly, but inevitably. Every breath she took carried the aura of death.”
“We called her the ‘Death Princess.’ She was a Disaster Princess, the harbinger of death to all living things.”
“On the date ***, in the southeastern region of the continent—the final refuge—hundreds of thousands gathered upon a fog-covered plain. People of every race and the last remaining kingdoms assembled for one purpose: to survive for at least one day.”
“We gathered what little strength we had left, raising our hands to the sky. We prayed, hoping to breathe the air of tomorrow. Under the leadership of Archbishop ***, we began the ritual of eternal sealing.”
“That afternoon, from the northern horizon, the Death Princess appeared, we held our breath each time she stepped closer. She stepped upon a gravestone. The Archbishop struck his staff—made from the World Tree—into the ground. The earth trembled… it shook, then—”
Marry touched the final line of ancient text on the cracked marble surface. The next lines were too faded to read.
Her hand pressed against her chest, clutching the collar of her dress. Her heartbeat pounded violently.
“The Death Princess…” Her shoulders trembled.
Marry stood still, her palms pressed against the relief on the cracked wall. Her head was lowered, allowing the silence to soothe her heart.
Her eyes slowly closed as darkness swallowed her consciousness.
…
Her eyes shot open. Marry jolted awake. She sat up, hugging her knees.
“It was just a dream… hah… hah…” Her breath came in ragged gasps. “My old memories?!” Cold sweat trickled down her temple.
She turned to the right, gazing at her daughter’s face resting upon a white pillow. Marry lay back down.
“I’m sorry, honey…” Her hand stroked her daughter's silver hair.
Marry lay in silence. But her mind was in turmoil. Her heart churned.
“Death Princess… Black Mist… we are Disaster Princesses—what am I supposed to do?”
After a while, her breathing gradually steadied. Her blue eyes stared at the dim ceiling.
She whispered, “Mother Earth… please help me…”
Her eyes slowly closed. The world faded into darkness as her consciousness drifted away.
…
Marry opened her eyes once more. Her pupils shrank as light poured into them.
Before her, moss-covered ground shimmered beneath a gentle glow. The wind blew softly, carrying the scent of forest flowers.
Marry parted her lips. “This… a spiritual realm?!”
“Marry…” A gentle, loving voice echoed in her ears. Marry turned, rubbing her eyes.
A breathtakingly beautiful woman stood before her. Her green hair flowed down her back, and her eyes were as deep and untouched as a primordial forest.
Her dress resembled woven leaves and roots, swaying gently like a living symphony of nature.
Behind her stood the colossal silhouette of the World Tree, towering high beyond the clouds.
The woman’s lips parted. “It has been a long time… my Little Rose.”
Her voice was soft, like the first breeze after a long, scorching drought.
Tears welled in Marry’s eyes. “Earth Mother…” Her voice trembled.
Mother Earth extended her arms and embraced her. “Your heart is weary, my child. You don’t need to hide anything from your mother.”
Marry stood still for a moment, resting her chin on her mother’s shoulder. Tears fell, soaking into the green silk.
“I don’t know what to do, Mother. The mist… it’s getting closer. I can feel it… Black Mist… she’s returning.”
Marry clung to her waist. “I don’t know… whether I should face her, reject her, or accept her.”
“She is the sister reborn of your wounds, Marry.” Earth Mother gently stroked her back, as if she were her own child. “Like you… she was reborn not by choice, but from the deepest wounds of the world. Wounds that have yet to heal.”
Marry tightened her embrace. “But if she brings disaster upon the world, like the Death Princess… how can I just let her?”
Earth Mother stroked Marry’s silver hair. “You don’t have to let her. But you also cannot kill her.”
“All of us… are incarnations of the world’s will. You and Black Mist are wounded sisters.”
Earth Mother slowly pulled away. Green eyes like a forest met blue eyes like the sky. “Marry… do you know why we are called Disaster Princesses?”
Marry wiped her tears and nodded faintly.
Earth Mother smiled softly. “We are reborn from the world’s lament.”
“When justice is silenced; when kindness is destroyed; when wounds are mocked… the world weeps.”
“And from its tears, we are reborn. You, me, Black Mist Princess, Death Princess, and three others. We are the answers to the world’s cries.”
Marry gave a faint smile. “So… we are not curses?” Her voice was hoarse.
Earth Mother shook her head. “No. You are a reaction. You are the blade for the voiceless.”
“You are the Blood Rose Princess, the final judge of the dead law. Black Mist Princess is the shadow of oppressed women. The Death Princess is the final answer to a world that has suffered for far too long.”
Marry looked down at her palm. “Can we live normaly?”
Earth Mother fell silent for a moment before speaking again. “Marry… you possess something no other Disaster Princess has ever had.”
Marry’s eyes widened. “What?!”
Earth Mother smiled. “A daughter.”
Marry stepped back, her shoulders tensing.
Earth Mother nodded gently. “Don't worry, Marry. I will protect your daughter.”
“Your daughter is an anomaly of fate. Her existence has changed your lineage. She binds you to the world with love, not anger. She makes you want to protect, not destroy.”
Her green eyes dimmed slightly. “Disaster Princesses are not meant to give birth. We are not ordinary beings. We are half-spirit.”
She pointed at Marry’s chest. “But you can, Marry. You are different. The world has entrusted you with a new possibility.”
Marry trembled. “Why did the world choose me? Is my daughter… Caelan—”
Earth Mother gently placed a finger on Marry’s lips. “That question will be answered in time.”
“For now, protect your daughter. If Black Mist truly comes, do not face her with hatred.”
Marry bit her lip. “Then how should I face her?”
Earth Mother smiled softly. “When your wounds have healed, you will know what to say to her when the time comes.” Her hand rested over her heart. “Marry… if you ever doubt yourself, you can always return to this dream.”
Marry looked at Mother Earth, her eyes shimmering with tears, her lips parting—
“Whoosh…” A gentle wind carried her body away as her consciousness slowly faded.
“Don't forget who you are, my Little Rose,” the soft voice echoed within her heart. “You are not only a disaster, you are also hope that blooms from bloodstained soil.”
…
Marry jolted awake. Her hand gripped the blanket as she turned her head to the right.
Caelan was still asleep in her arms. Her heartbeat gradually steadied, syncing with her daughter.
Marry kissed her daughter’s forehead. “Caelan… Mommy will endure for you—”
Regards.
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