Her Ascension

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic

The character that this piece refers to is one that I've been role playing with for about four years. Her path started as a priestess whose entire village was crushed by an 'enemy of the common people'. As she seeks her vengeance, she unknowingly finds that the common people begin to worship her, and thus, she seeks her ascension.

Where does one find the sacrosanct path to Godhood?

Is it found in legendary tales written in song and prose by fabled bards? Nimble fingers that draw on thin, melancholy strings of an harp whilst thin lips form sonorous ballads of hardship and discord?

Or is the path to be found in stories told by aging warriors seeking to ease the aches of their joints by the warmth of a fireplace, idling their time away in a nameless, ramshackle tavern?

Nay, I tell you, nay. Though the bard may pluck wondrous tunes on his harp which would evoke the saddest of lamentations in even the hardest of hearts and the once legendary, venerable warrior may brag of his conquests while soothing age-old wounds, there is nothing quite extraordinary, nor secretive, than the tale of one who seeks Godhood. For neither of these have found the temperance needed to pursue that which is impossible; to become a God.

Such self-restraint is embedded deep within the very molecules that compose such a creature, engraved upon the heart of one whose intentions are true to their cause; whether that cause be as pure, righteous and holy as the fairest maiden, donned in her virginal robes and supplanted before her husband, or as tainted, vile and corrupt as the blackened heart of the noble who would seek to deny a husband what is morally his and defile the virginal blossom on her wedding night.

Though her cause is a righteous one, it is not without sin. Born of vengeance, fueled by hatred, she walks the crimson-stained path to Godhood, and in her wake, she leaves behind carnage and destruction. Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, each death at her hand lightens the load. A twisting river of blood flows freely behind her, each hallowed step moving her closer to her Ascension.

There are those who would oppose her. Those fool-hardy souls who are swiftly harried across to the Netherworld, propelled by her murderous rage. Their battered bones merely a footstep engraved in the road. But, there are also those who bow their heads in hushed reverence, silent heartbeats that thrum with anticipation, quiet exaltation for the mortal who will become a God.

And whilst she seeks her Ascension,





a mortal.


Submitted: November 05, 2011

© Copyright 2021 Disco Lemonade. All rights reserved.

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