The night your grandmother passes, the deity tells of a prophecy that spreads like wildfire throughout the kingdoms.
And suddenly you are praised.
They want you to give them something extraordinary, but they aren't prepared for a gift that will shake the empire to its very core.
So then you are scorned.
Warning: There will be strong language, possibly sexual content, and gore in this story. Please, do not read if that makes you uncomfortable.
Play as male, female, or non-binary.
Customize your character; personality, appearance, sexuality.
Choose from four romance options, [Male or Female.]
Decide your feelings on the Deity’s gift.
Survive assassination attempts through wit, strength, or pure luck.
Grow up in the castle, perhaps stay there.
Discover your magic spark, or perhaps your fighting talent instead.
Make friends, enemies, and fall in love.
Theodore/Theodora is the knight assigned to you since you were young.
Physical Description: Chestnut skin paired with dark brown, short, coiled hair. Wide set, soft, amber eyes with a nubian nose, and heart shaped lips.
“I don’t care what happens to them—it’s you I’m here for.”
Azrail is the assassin hired to take your life.
Physical Description: Fawn skin, with black hair, messily cut to their shoulders. Sharp, upturned, ink blue eyes. A Greek like nose, and medium shaped lips.
“It’s all or nothing—so make your decision now.”
Simon/Simone is the servant who’s been with you as long as you can remember.
Physical Description: Pale skin against straight, black hair, braided if female, to ears if male. Rounded, parallel, dark eyes. A flat nose and small lips.
“I’m here for you, even if that means nothing.”
Rainer/Rainey: A noble who came with their father to seek your hand in marriage, though they didn't want it even before the Deity revealed their gift.
Physical Description: Tawny skin, along with wavy, long, copper hair. Heavy lidded, downturned, virescent eyes. Light freckles line a straight nose, above teasingly curved lips.
“I’m many things, but a liar is rarely one of them, love.”
The Second Part Of The Prologue is finished, and you can find it here!
I wasn’t expecting, but I was on a roll with editing and I couldn’t wait to release it!
It has a little over 14k words overall, and with that the entire prologue is completely! I think everything is correct, but I cannot look at it any longer today, so take it pls
*slams hands on desk* “ are you gonna keep looking at me like that or are you actually gonna kiss me? ” for azrail!! (Also extra question bc I'm dumb lol but is Azrail nb or are they also gender selectable?)
You're not dumb, I'm sorry! I should've made it more clear but all the ros are gender selectable! Its just both female and male Azrail have the same name! Also, thank you for your ask!
Azrail [Male Ver.]
Azrail didn't care much for comfort, for anger, for sadness, for anything at all— Feeling things so trifle would surely bring him to ruin, as his mother often reminded him.
And so, you seemed to bring out the worst in him.
Sitting on the docks by the brothel, Azrail ponders.
Ponders, silently.
“What’s got you sitting here all alone?” A voice sounds from behind him, though he doesn’t draw his dagger, as it is painfully familiar.
“I do not know what you mean,” He replies, as you drop heavily beside him, flopping with little to no grace courtesy of the bottle of alcohol in your hand.
“Yes, you do,” You snort, “There’s a tavern nearby,” You wave behind you, in no particular direction, “Come join me for a drink!”
“I could kill you where you stand, and you ask me this? You are strange.” And yet the need to drench his blade doesn’t come.
“Perhaps, but aren't you strange too?” You question him, “An assassin speaking to his prey as if they are equals?”
Azrail grips the handle of his dagger through his cloak, though only for comfort, “You are only alive because I have been ordered to keep you as such, for now. Though, that could change,” He speaks the last sentence far too fast, “So do not approach me so carefree. Be on your guard.”
You are quiet for a moment, and in that glorious silence, he wonders if he's brought you to your senses. They will leave, now, Azrail thinks, And when the time comes, mother’s beast will go hungry.
“You saying this proves you wouldn't harm me,” You say, sitting the bottle to the side with a clink, discarding both it and his words.
“I am saying this out of mere mercy,” Azrail turns his head away, eyebrows scrunched upon his forehead, “So my conscience will be clear if it comes to it.”
“As if you care about that,” You tsk at him, leaning closer, and Azrail clings to his pride—he doesn't move away.
“Are you not frightened of me?” Azrail asks, curious and unable to stop himself.
You stare at him as if searching for something in his face, and once you find it, your expression changes, slightly(into something he can't identify), “Should I be?”
Azrail tears his blade from the sheath at his breast pocket, the sharpness ready and willing at the pretty curve of your neck—but he doesn't press. The look in your eyes stays the same.
“I do not understand,” His voice sounds like a stranger to his usual tone, “Why won't you run from me?” His knuckles turn white on his dagger’s handle, “I have killed so many—since I was a child I have spilled blood—so why do you—”
“Are you going to keep looking at me like that,” Your words are unexpected, as are the upturned corners of your mouth, “Or are you finally going to kiss me?”
Azrail’s mind goes blank—his brain flashing empty for the first time in his life. Out of all things he had been expecting, that was certainly not one of them.
But the syllables finally soak into his thoughts, and he finds his eyes on your lips.
———
Azrail [Female Ver.]
Azrail didn't care much for comfort, for anger, for sadness, for anything at all— Feeling things so trifle would surely bring her to ruin, as her mother often reminded her.
And so, you seemed to bring out the worst in her.
Sitting on the docks by the brothel, Azrail ponders.
Ponders, silently.
“What’s got you sitting here all alone?” A voice sounds from behind her, though she doesn’t draw her dagger, as it is painfully familiar.
“I do not know what you mean,” She replies, as you drop heavily beside her, flopping with little to no grace, courtesy of the bottle of alcohol in your hand.
“Yes, you do,” You snort, “There’s a tavern nearby,” You wave behind you, in no particular direction, “Come join me for a drink!”
“I could kill you where you stand, and you ask me this? You are strange.” And yet the need to drench her blade doesn’t come.
“Perhaps, but aren't you strange too?” You question her, “An assassin speaking to her prey as if they are equals?”
Azrail grips the handle of her dagger through her cloak, though only for comfort, “You are only alive because I have been ordered to keep you as such, for now. Though, that could change,” She speaks the last sentence far too fast, “So do not approach me so carefree. Be on your guard.”
You are quiet for a moment, and in that glorious silence, she wonders if she's brought you to your senses. They will leave, now, Azrail thinks, And when the time comes, mother’s beast will go hungry.
“You saying this proves you wouldn't harm me,” You say, sitting the bottle to the side with a clink, discarding both it and her words.
“I am saying this out of mere mercy,” Azrail turns her head away, eyebrows scrunched upon her forehead, “So my conscience will be clear if it comes to it.”
“As if you care about that,” You tsk at her, leaning closer, and Azrail clings to her pride—she doesn't move away.
“Are you not frightened of me?” Azrail asks, curious and unable to stop herself.
You stare at her as if searching for something in her face, and once you find it, your expression changes, slightly(into something she can't identify), “Should I be?”
Azrail tears her blade from the sheath at her breast pocket, the sharpness ready and willing at the pretty curve of your neck—but she doesn't press. The look in your eyes stays the same.
“I do not understand,” Her voice sounds like a stranger to her usual tone, “Why won't you run from me?” Her knuckles turn white on her dagger’s handle, “I have killed so many—since I was a child I have spilled blood—so why do you—”
“Are you going to keep looking at me like that,” Your words are unexpected, as are the upturned corners of your mouth, “Or are you finally going to kiss me?”
Azrail’s mind goes blank—her brain flashing empty for the first time in her life. Out of all things she had been expecting, that was certainly not one of them.
But the syllables finally soak into her thoughts, and she finds her eyes on your lips.
I am so close to being finished! The word count is at 10k!
I only need to write some dialogue and the action scene(lord save me) with T, and then code it into twine, and I’ll be done!
I got a lot done last weekend, and I mean a lot,(Though most of it was coding and editing, it was still progress!) And if I hammer down again this weekend, it shouldn’t be long until I release the second part of the prologue!
I’m really excited to get past this portion of the story while MC’s a child, because I wrote them in a way where most of their opinions come from the people around them(parents, etc.) They have no real strong thoughts yet, and once I get into chapter one, where they’re almost of age, they’ll have more feelings that come from themselves rather than the adult around them!
There was a tragic sighting of a centipede this morning and I haven't been the same since.
I'm rewriting some of the conversation with S, and I kinda of hate it because MC has no choice but to be friendly because I need that to move the story forward(and to save their life).
I also worked a bit on chapter 1 and I'm already loving how much personality I can give the characters now that they're older!
I have something to do Saturday, but Sunday I’ll be free so I'll try my best to get a lot done,,
So I’ve written a bit, haven’t had much time because of school, and I also have to think about getting a job for income. but I do have a somewhat idea of what chapter 1 will look like! I’m so excited to get into the vibrant personality of the characters and especially the MC! I’m also excited for you all to see the coming of age ceremony! :)
If I'm not too late could I get “ if we could run away together and go anywhere, where would you take me? ” with T? 🥺🥺🥺🥺
“ if we could run away together and go anywhere, where would you take me? ” For T. The ending was a bit abrupt because it was heading towards spoiler territory! You’re not too late! Thank you for the prompt! :) Also, I’m sorry but I have no editing talent and so this post is void of a moodboard, sorry T.
Theodore Ver.
The sunset was a beautiful thing.
From the rail on the balcony, where the stone was always rough against Theodore’s fingers—that’s where they were best.
“Theodore,” You say, head rested against his bare arm, “You look tired,” You sigh heavily, “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you get more rest last night.”
The words tingle his ears, scratch his insides, “I got as much as I wanted, and I always look tired.”
“Which is why I continue to tell you that you work too hard,” You sit up, and Theodore longs to pull you back towards him, “I can have another guard fill in for you, so you can rest.”
“How could I? It's what I'm here for—serving you. I won't stop, you can't have me stop,” Theodore huffs, chasing away the true exhaustion deep in his bones.
“It wouldn’t be permanent,” You say, and he realizes then that you’re trying to convince him, and he pushes back.
“If I’m not guarding you, what use am I?” Theodore turns his head away so sharply his neck pops, “I won’t be doing that, you cannot convince me.”
“You would be of better use—” He sees you taste the word in your mouth, sees you grow bitter from it, “You would be better off well-rested,” You pause, “I can force you, you know.”
“I also know that you won’t,” Theodore countered, and when the fight finally flew from your eyes, he knew he’d won, “You are too kind to treat me like the servant I am.”
“You are not—Theodore—” You try to continue the discussion as it leans on something serious.
Theodore does not let you, “Where would you go?”
You gape at him, befuddled, “What?”
Theodore’s pride grows tall in his chest, and his shoulders relax as he leans to feel air cradle his back, “Where would you go? If you could go anywhere?”
You grow silent—pondering, Theodore assumes, but then your eyes light with something mischievous, and he feels he's gotten himself into something he won't get out of.
“What about you, then?” You lean your head against his shoulder, link your fingers with his own, “If we could go anywhere—if we could run away—where would you take me?”
The question floors him, and he feels the heat on his cheeks as he grapples for a response that will avoid the question.
But, then, he’s reminded of home. Of home, and it’s cold summers and freezing winters. Of home, and it’s melty glaciers and frozen pathways. Of home, so different from where he was now.
“The mountains in Zemid,” Theodore blurts, and you press against his arm in support, “Where I was born.”
He’s never spoken of home before, not even to you, and his throat clamps at the thoughts of you asking more questions. Yet, you don’t. You never do—and he knows you never will until he’s ready.
He expects you'd knew he'd say that.
———
Theodora Ver.
The sunset was a beautiful thing.
From the rail on the balcony, where the stone was always rough against Theodora’s fingers—that’s where they were best.
“Theodora,” You say, head rested against her bare arm, “You look tired,” You sigh heavily, “I’m sorry, I should’ve let you get more rest last night.”
The words tingle her ears, scratch her insides, “I got as much as I wanted, and I always look tired.”
“Which is why I continue to tell you that you work too hard,” You sit up, and Theodora longs to pull you back towards her, “I can have another guard fill in for you, so you can rest.”
“How could I? It's what I'm here for—serving you. I won't stop, you can't have me stop,” Theodora huffs, chasing away the true exhaustion deep in her bones.
“It wouldn’t be permanent,” You say, and she realizes then that you’re trying to convince her, and she pushes back.
“If I’m not guarding you, what use am I?” Theodora turns her head away so sharply her neck pops, “I won’t be doing that, you cannot convince me.”
“You would be of better use—” She sees you taste the word in your mouth, sees you grow bitter from it, “You would be better off well-rested,” You pause, “I can force you, you know.”
“I also know that you won’t,” Theodora countered, and when the fight finally flew from your eyes, she knew she’d won, “You are too kind to treat me like the servant I am.”
“You are not—Theodore—” You try to continue the discussion as it leans on something serious.
Theodora does not let you, “Where would you go?”
You gape at her, befuddled, “What?”
Theodora’s pride grows tall in her chest, and her shoulders relax as she leans to feel air cradle her back, “Where would you go? If you could go anywhere?”
You grow silent—pondering, Theodora assumes, but then your eyes light with something mischievous, and she feels she's gotten herself into something she won't get out of.
“What about you, then?” You lean your head against her shoulder, link your fingers with her own, “If we could go anywhere—if we could run away—where would you take me?”
The question floors her, and she feels the heat on her cheeks as she grapples for a response that will avoid the question.
But, then, she’s reminded of home. Of home, and it’s cold summers and freezing winters. Of home, and it’s melty glaciers and frozen pathways. Of home, so different from where she was now.
“The mountains in Zemid,” Theodora blurts, and you press against her arm in support, “Where I was born.”
