"You are a fraud, man-made god!"
Note: This is when Rose was still a child—she and her brothers are around 6 years old here. Also, warning there will be some light gore here.
Morgana is a place where its citizens might be condemned for the amount of meddling they do in mystical and divine affairs. On top of that, they practice dark magic and seem to have a fixation on including blood in their ceremonies and rituals—acts that are taboo. It’s a miracle the new gods haven’t done something about it.
This place was weirdly magical (because it is). The grass is green but has a blue hue, making it look a bit teal; the flowers are unnervingly vibrant. And its night skies? What a beautiful yet unnatural shade of purple, mirroring the night sky of the Enchanted Forest.
Currently, a festival is being held to celebrate the blood moon, which only occurs once or twice a year. They don’t celebrate the moon because they worship it, but because this time of year enhances the circulation of magic. The festival is merely an excuse to perform rituals, ceremonial rites, and spells for those with the power to wield such taboo magic.
A tall woman with hair like snow, alabaster skin, and dark eyes stood out among the crowd. She was slightly voluptuous, wearing a baggy cream long-sleeved shirt, a rich green velvet corset with golden embroidery of leaves and lace sewn along the top, and a long green skirt with a floral pattern. She looked too beautiful to be human, too inhumane—and what stood out most were her ears, pointed like a fae’s. But faes weren’t so blank-looking; she was most likely an elf—one of those mischievous shape-shifters, a changeling. She carried a basket filled with various herbs and bottles of mysterious substances, while behind her trailed three identical children: two boys and one girl. They wore overalls and striped shirts, their skin as pale as snow, their hair almost albino but with a hint of pale pink barely noticeable to the untrained eye. Their eyes were wide enough to look foolish—one amber yellow, the other as dark as the void.
One boy looked well-groomed, with neatly combed short hair and a light blue-and-white striped shirt. He appeared extremely clean and pristine.
The other boy wore red-and-white stripes, his hair messy, with dirt smeared across his right cheek. He joked and laughed, while his brother wore an expression that suggested he was wondering how he could be related to such a mess.
“Come on, Bill—turn that frowny,” he said, putting his index fingers on the corners of his mouth and pushing up to make a smile, “into a smiley!” He added before laughing.
Bill just rolled his eyes. “Sure, Ron,” he said dismissively.
Meanwhile, the girl had a messy wavy bob and a glossy red plastic headband—a stark contrast against her pale hair. She wore lavender stripes, her overalls stained with grass as she dragged her mother’s purse along the ground, paying no mind to her brothers.
“Now, now, children,” their mother spoke, her voice melodic and soft yet firm with authority, “hold onto each other. I don’t want to lose any of you lovely little things.”
“Yes, mummy,” all three answered in unison.
Their mother smiled before turning her gaze forward again.
Ron and Bill looked at each other, then at their sister—her head in the clouds, humming to herself as she glanced everywhere. They looked back at each other.
Yeah, she’s the one most likely to get lost, I thought as I looked at my sister. When Ron’s eyes met mine, I knew we were thinking the same thing.
The way Bill and I locked eyes told me we shared the same thought: Rose will get lost, Mum’ll panic and search for her, then leave when she gives up—and there’ll be one less mouth to feed! But then again, it’d be less fun if she disappeared. I’d be stuck with boring, no-fun Bill.
I glanced happily around the market. So many interesting things—especially the shiny crystals!
Humming to myself, I felt two hands grab me: one took my wrist where I held Mum’s purse, and the other intertwined fingers with mine as if I’d vanish. Ha! What a ridiculous thought—I won’t disappear! Ron and Bill have nothing to worry about. Probably… The worst that could happen is I’d vanish and be raised by wolves!
As the four made their way to the town square, the stalls grew sparser. When they arrived, a fountain stood at the center, spewing clear water. The road around it circled outward, with four main roads leading to different districts of the capital—but the most noticeable feature was the four churches that faced directly toward the fountain.
“Fiona, there you are!” a brunette woman with olive skin exclaimed. She was plump but joyous-looking. “Degemer mat, ma mignon!” she called, waving to the pale woman. A young boy clung to her skirt—scrawny, with raven hair and dark, watchful eyes that unsettled the triplets. He wore a simple dark green hoodie, pants, and boots.
Their mother gently pushed the three forward. “Go on,” she encouraged. “He’s nice, I swear.” She stopped pushing when the triplets were just inches from the boy.
“Come on, introduce yourself,” the boy’s mother urged him.
“I… uh… I’m Mordred,” the raven-haired boy muttered shyly, fidgeting with his hands and staring at his boots.
The two women conversed in a language the children didn’t understand.
“Sooo…” Ron trailed off, letting go of Rose and side-eyeing Bill. “TAG!” he suddenly yelled, slapping Bill’s shoulder and laughing—then forgetting he needed to run.
Bill rolled his eyes as Ron cackled. He removed his hand from Rose, placed it on his hip, and glanced at Mordred, who looked deeply concerned. “Don’t worry—it’s normal,” he said before smacking Ron on the back of the head.
“Ow!” Ron cried as Bill grabbed Mordred by the wrist and started running, already deciding they were playing. Meanwhile, curious Rose wandered toward one of the churches—she’d seen a bunny.
Behind the church, the only sound was the crunch of stone under small feet. A rabbit was wrapped in thick vines, coiled around it like a snake suffocating its prey.
A boy stood over the animal, with short fiery red hair and pasty skin. His green eyes had red pupils—unsettling, as if they stared straight into your soul. He wore altar boy robes.
I stared at the lowly creature wrapped in vines. It squirmed, kicked, and let out pitiful noises, but I only tightened the vines as I clenched my hand. Pathetic…
I kept suffocating it until I heard a crack. Then crimson liquid poured out, its eyes popping from its head like those stupid toys mortal children play with. I glanced up at the sound of footsteps to see a girl—pale as snow, her hair and skin almost white, looking blessed by Dríocht or one of their angels. She had heterochromatic eyes—how odd. Then I spotted her ears, slightly pointed like a fae’s. That explained it.
My gaze returned to her face, but she wasn’t looking at me—she stared at the dead creature with horror.
She looked soft… and easy to pop if I squeezed too hard, just like the bunny.
Her eyes were wide and large: one dark honey, the other like the night sky. They reminded me of that drink with tiny black balls—kinda made me want to pull them from her sockets and stare at them.
We were nearly eye to eye, but she wouldn’t look at me with the reverence or worship everyone else showed.
“Why aren’t you bowing to a god?” I spoke, never blinking as I stared at her. I don’t need to blink—that’s for mortals.
Her eyes finally met mine after she blinked. Good. If she hadn’t, I would have forced her to look at my greatness.
“W-what h-happened to the bunny?” Her voice was high-pitched and shaking. She didn’t answer my question… I didn’t like that.
“I put it out of its pathetic life,” I replied, taking a step closer.
“Why…?” She stepped back, so I moved forward again.
“Because that sorry excuse for a living being bit me,” I stated. “And it had no right to…” I trailed off. “Now bow and awe at your god! I, the great Capella, shall be treated with the reverence only a divine being deserves.”
She stepped back further. “You are no god.”
What did she say about me…?
The air grew heavy, and stray weeds poking through cracked concrete withered instantly. I furrowed my brows and scoffed. “You’re clearly blind, then.” As if by my will alone, the vines around the dead bunny shot up to wrap around her wrist, stopping her from moving away as I walked closer. “I am a god. I bleed gold. My will is absolute, and I am Dríocht incarnate made flesh by the moon's servants,” I placed my hand on her shoulder, pushing her to the ground, “So bow, fae-brat.”
She pulled and twisted her arm free of the vines. “You are a fake—a man-made god!” she exclaimed, kicking me where the sun doesn’t shine.
My hands flew to the pained area, hissing as I nearly fell over. The vines loosened the moment I lost focus, letting her run back toward the crowd. The pain was foreign—I’d felt pain before, like when they cut me to bless the land with my blood, but this was different.
I let out a pained groan, my discomfort quickly replaced by anger. “That little…” I growled through clenched teeth. “Just because she’s blessed by the moon doesn’t give her the right! She should revere me as a god, while she is nothing!” I looked back at the bunny, already swarming with flies. I turned around, placing a hand on the wall as I limped back to it—the pain lingering. Now I felt boiling hatred for the creature; its white fur reminded me too much of that fae-brat.
I raised my foot and brought it down, squishing it like a bug under my shoe. And it was.
“Mama!” I screamed as I ran out from behind the church, past Ron, Bill, and that emo-looking kid.
As I ran, something tugged at my ankle and yanked me down onto the cobblestones. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring my vision, and I began to cry—what else was I supposed to do when I was hurt and scared? Mum always came when I cried.
Sure enough, I felt strong arms lift me up. “Oh, did you trip, little one?” Mum cooed, her voice so gentle. “There, there,” she said, patting and stroking my back.
“Mordred cries louder than her,” Mum’s friend chuckled behind us as I buried my face in Mum’s shoulder. I felt her turn around. “It must have been a nightmare when your son cried in the middle of the night,” Mum sniffled as she spoke to the fat woman.
“How do you do it, Greta?” my mum asked. “It’s definitely no piece of cake.”
Their voices faded as I looked up from Mum’s shoulder—and saw him, staring at me, completely unblinking. Yikes! Gingers are soulless! I quickly buried my face again in fear, clutching her dress. She swayed me gently and petted my back to calm me down.
If you think that my writing style is a bit different here, it's because I had the original edited/corrected by AI. (Please don't come at me for using ai to help edit this 😭)
About Morgana (unfinished):
they have managed to fatally injure their patreon deity due to greed, and the only thing keeping their deity alive is the constant ritualistic sacrifices they do every day during mass.
they have made at least 10 demigods to this day using the blood of the deity (they are replaceable, the 10th one is the most recent)
the deity they worship is named Dríocht, who is the moon and deity of magic.
natural birth here is low due to beings that resulted from blood rituals are infertile (the demigods are artificially made, and this also applies to anyone that is born from a blood ritual), most of its population is built by halflings, witches, warlocks, sorcerers, and normal people.
Morgana is considered the "Copycat of Kingdoms" due to their culture coming from faes and other cultures that they twisted, and their religious order being a copy of Catholicism.
the religious order of Morgana is really good on keeping their demigods clean and untouched by the world, but not naive.
they treat the current demigod like they're the second coming or as if they're god themselves, and the former demigods with respect.
I forget to add that albino people are seen as blessed and basically angels of the moon with their complexion and how rare they are.
Gealach Fola Festival - a festival held to celebrate the "spilled blood of the deity". this is celebrated due to the circulation of magic heightening as if they were in the fae realm itself. Nighmarkets are usually set up near the docks due to the vendors being foreign merchants, while on it's streets, a lot of stalls are set up, this is called the "infinity market" with how much vendors are there. this festival last a whole month, even after the blood moon. at the climax of the festival, lights are extinguished, with only fire being the light source, the current demigod will be cut, letting the demigod bleed into the fountainin the townsquare to bless Morgana's lands, completely supervised by the members of the royal family and the members of the Covenant of Dríocht, a gigantic feast is held afterwards.
The Covenant of Dríocht - the main religion of Morgana. they worship the bleeding moon deity. this religion is also referred to as "The Order of the Bleeding Moon". They host masses 3 times a day (very early morning, afternoon, and night), these masses last for at least 2-3 hours (3 hours is mainly at night, due to the moon being out), the 3 hour mass consists of opening words (thanking the moon) a procession from the church courtyard to the altar (with the animal, could be a pig or a goat). then the Servants of the Moon take their proper places, while 3 people escort the animal to be cleaned and fed the last time. Then the priest does a sermon, then a prayer after the one hour mark, then they prepare the wine, altar, and the tools before bringing out the animal. they then cleans and anoint the animal, making sure the animal is calm, they lift and hold down the animal on the altar. the priest then takes the ritual knife, plunging it into the animal's guts, slicing it open, taking out the organs and intestines. they clean the organs and intestines. they clean the altar, mix the blood with the wine, and prepare the organs and intestines (including the animal corpse) to be thrown in the fire. the priest then takes a bite of heart before throwing it in the fire aswell, while the wine mixed blood are prepared for communion. before the communion, the priest takes a drink form chalice before preparing the wine for the attendance, all while the Servants of the Moon chants throughout the process. the remaining time is spend cleaning the altar while the 2 hour one is just the same but without the procession, and during the full moon, the current demigod has to do the sacrificial part.
romantic culture - giving jewelry that has your own blood inside to your beloved is considered a romantic gesture. obsessive or stalkerish behavior is very much normal here.
Taglist: @coniac-in-chb (here yo go, something for you to read to get your mind off things, sorry for not posting for a while.)
