《CHANTS OF FURY [ DARK FANTASY / CULTIVATION / PROGRESSION]》


 Chapter 1: The Solitary Hut

    City of Snowy Valley,


    Ancient Gremen.


    Year 1155 of the Era of the Sun.


    The crackling of the fire echoed loudly as Zinnia paced back and forth in front of the hearth inside the hut. As she walked and turned, her beautiful yet furious features became visible. Her fiery red hair, loose and damp, floated around her in thick strands. Her irate blue eyes brimmed with tears that ran down her flushed face, her chest rising and falling as she spoke. When she turned to look at the flames, her tall figure became a dark silhouette before Simara''s eyes, her younger sister. The fiery light cast massive, shadowy shapes on the clay-covered walls, the wooden shelves, and the wicker baskets filled with skeins of wool. As Zinnia passed by her younger sister, the orange glow of the fire illuminated and accentuated the vibrant colors of the flower vines Simara had painted onto the shelves and the large wooden table with two long benches on either side.


    Simara set aside the two wooden knitting needles she had been working with and brought a hand to her brown knitted cardigan. She carefully unfastened the top wooden buttons at the neck, revealing the fabric shirt beneath her petticoat, immediately feeling relief from the oppressive heat inside the hut. She felt a pang of guilt, as though she were ungrateful for the warmth that kept them alive. Yet, the stifling heat and her own perspiration were overwhelming. Their mother, Nubia, always told them it was better to endure the heat inside than freeze to death outside in the snowy mountains, but Simara couldn''t help but wish to lower the fire in the hearth. She restrained herself from unbuttoning further, leaning back in the wooden chair she sat in, and resumed watching her elder sister pace in front of the fire. The hem of Zinnia''s dress swept up ash from the fireplace, which scattered onto the flat stones of the floor as her wet leather boots left damp traces behind.


    Simara could hardly believe Zinnia was still alive. Just fifteen minutes ago, she had been drenched in snow from the blizzard outside the stone-and-clay hut. Yet, somehow, she always survived the grueling outdoor tasks in the winter cold. By now, Zinnia''s clothes were no longer completely soaked but remained damp, steaming in the heat of the fire. The blue wool of her dress appeared darker from the moisture. Seeing her sister''s wet woolen clothing clinging to her body in the stifling warmth of the hearth made Simara uncomfortable. She averted her eyes back to her knitting. She despised the sensation of wet clothes against her skin.


    She focused on her knitting needles maneuvering the yarn while listening to the rhythmic clicking of needles from her other sister, Olimpia, and their mother, Nubia, who were also knitting garments. Their collective silence was broken when Nubia spoke softly over the sound of her own needles.


    ¡°Please, stop fighting¡­¡± she murmured.


    Tears streamed freely down Zinnia¡¯s face, while Simara tightened her lips in a grimace of frustration and restrained anger, glancing up from her knitting to her sister with biting acidity.


    ¡°Look how freezing I am! Nobody cares. As long as idiot Zinnia runs errands, tends to the sheep in the barns, shears them, and works the rest of the day in the snowy shearing shed, everything is fine. Meanwhile, you all keep knitting by the fire and¡­¡± The veins in Zinnia¡¯s temples bulged, pulsing in time with her rapid heartbeat.


    ¡°I work my fingers to the bone and strain my eyes knitting and spinning wool in this dim hut, and I also manage the stall¡­¡± Simara¡¯s voice didn¡¯t rise; her words simply flowed out with a quiet intensity.


    It was true that she strained her eyes. Since oil had become more expensive, they tried to save it by alternating the days they lit the oil lamp. Tonight, the lamp remained unlit, and they worked in near darkness. As a result, Simara could barely see her stitches, and the effort left her eyes aching from the strain.


    ¡°Oh, sure. You¡¯re just breaking your back knitting comfortably here in a chair by the fire,¡± Zinnia retorted with venom.


    ¡°I do my share of the work. And do you think your task is the only hard one? It¡¯s not easy for me to knit with so little light; my eyes hurt¡­¡± Simara set down her knitting for the umpteenth time that evening to glare at Zinnia. Her sister¡¯s face, illuminated by the fire, was cast in sharp, fiery hues and shadows.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Oh, yes. Knitting here is such a sacrifice,¡± Zinnia scoffed, rolling her eyes sarcastically. ¡°I¡¯m the one stuck with the worst of it! I can¡¯t even find time to rest or do something I enjoy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be unfair, child,¡± Nubia said, setting her knitting on her lap and directing her blue eyes toward her eldest daughter. ¡°My back only allows me to knit, and Simara and Olimpia do their part spinning, knitting, and selling. But you¡¯re doing more than you can bear. That¡¯s why we hired Oren¡ªto handle the heavy work of tending and shearing the sheep. There¡¯s no need for you to do it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s too much for Oren; that¡¯s why I help him. The workload is overwhelming. If I didn¡¯t assist, we wouldn¡¯t be able to shear and prepare all the wool we need to sell at the market.¡± More tears spilled from Zinnia¡¯s eyes. Her fiery hair clung to her tear-streaked face. ¡°I never complain, but I¡¯m tired. Every cold day, I exhaust myself caring for the sheep. I clean the barns, shear the sheep, do the carding, dyeing, and all that on top of maintaining and cleaning the hut. And I still knit and sell clothes, help with dinner at night, and watch over my sisters when they go to town. I¡¯m¡­ tired.¡±


    Nubia, Olimpia, and Simara all watched Zinnia as her words poured out. Their mother looked at her with sorrow, sensitivity, and weariness. Olimpia had had enough, while Simara confronted her with a cold exterior that masked her inner fury.


    "I didn''t realize it was too much for you, I didn''t know..." Nubia exclaimed, tired, as she passed a hand over her face, with deep wrinkles that denoted her age.


    "Why don''t you say what''s really bothering you? Why don''t you say that Olimpia and I are bothering you? Spit it out!" Simara crossed her ankles and moved one foot repeatedly, tapping her heel on the floor.


    "Fine, I''ll spit it out. I break my back working all day, and the rest of the time, I have to take care of you and Olimpia. At night, I can''t sleep because of the pain in my waist and back from being hunched over and exerting myself, but nobody cares as long as the roof is fixed by the end of the day... Sometimes, at night, my head hurts a lot just from exhaustion and worry that when the three of us go out, Olimpia and you will be thinking about what you have to do, but I''ll be thinking that whatever happens to the three of us will be my responsibility alone¡­ " Zinnia seemed to choke on her own words, looking overwhelmed as she moved her arms.


    "The streets of the Snowy Valley are dangerous for us, you know that. It''s already dangerous that we have to go to the city, but we must do it to work. Knowing that we must go, the worst thing we can do is go walking alone, that''s why you always go with them. You''re the oldest of the three, you must take care of them..." Nubia tried to reason with her, looking at her with pain through her gaze. "That''s why I always asked you to take care of your sisters, I always thanked you for doing so. Go, change into dry clothes before you get sick¡­" Zinnia remained silent, looking at Nubia with anguish, her tears caressing her freckles until she finally spoke. And when she did, she didn''t shout, she didn''t even raise her voice. She just spoke with pain, with the anguish of a little girl with... fear.


    "And who takes care of me? Who took care of me? I''m also afraid..." They just looked at each other. "I bet you never thought of that."


    "You''re worrying Mom with your complaints, cauliflower head," Simara said, her head hurting badly, and the last thing she wanted was to stay up fighting with Zinnia and ensuring a night of migraines. "Stop it already..."


    "Shut up! You don''t know how I feel! Besides... your painting oils are very expensive, and you''re the only one who allows herself such an expense in this house."


    "I buy my oils with my own work money! I have every right to do so!" Simara slammed her fists on her lap.


    "Enough, stop fighting... Daughter, if you need it, we can call another boy to help you and Oren with all the chores. We can ask Nyro if he wants to work here," Nubia said, not knowing what else to offer to stop the fighting and insults.


    "We can''t afford it," Zinnia said firmly, wiping away her tears with a swipe of her hand and shaking her head before taking a deep breath. Suddenly, she headed towards the wooden coat rack by the main door. As she passed by Nubia, Zinnia sighed.


    "What do you want, then?" Simara raised her voice for the first time, but Zinnia didn''t look at her. She just passed by Nubia while her mother took her hand as she passed, holding it back, and simply stared fixedly at the door.


    "Wait, baby. Mom loves you, you know? Don''t go out alone, you know it''s dangerous," Nubia said, looking at her with a pleading expression.


    Zinnia didn''t return her gaze, remained silent, and then walked towards the door, letting go of her mother''s hand and snatching her cloak from the coat rack.


    She didn''t respond to her mother.

 Chapter 2: Red drops

    "I''m going to the city. I''m taking Miko with me."


    "Don''t go alone, please..."


    Zinnia opened the door and left, leaving Nubia with half the words on her lips as millions of white snowflakes entered the hut, accompanied by a cold wind that made Simara shiver. The three women remained silent while Zinnia headed outside to the stables to take Miko, the black Frisian horse, and gallop away.


    "Don''t worry, mom. She''ll return as quickly as she left, with her tail between her legs..." Simara rolled her eyes, frowning. Nubia sighed.


    "Enough, Sima. One day you and your sister will have to stop fighting."


    The woman kept staring at the wooden door, her face contorted with worry until Olimpia spoke up for the first time during the argument.


    "Well, she''ll be back. We''ll wait for her, I''m sure nothing will happen to her."


    Olimpia took a deep breath and focused again on her knitting. Simara imitated her. She took a deep breath to calm down, letting the strong smell of burnt wood mixed with the laurel of the dry branches hanging by the fireplace to season the food and the remains of the meal with a sauce that had been left in the pot over the fire fill her nostrils with its different nuances.


    The three women continued with their tasks, immersed in an uncomfortable silence. Nubia focused on the cloak that was taking shape between her hands, Olimpia kept knitting a pair of brown gloves, and Simara put aside her work in a wicker basket and headed to the spinning wheel, brightly decorated and painted with red oil roses intertwined with green-leafed branches.


    While they worked, time passed, and Simara began to feel tired, with sore eyes from focusing on the sheep''s wool. She was also in a terrible mood because they would soon have to go to sleep, and Zinnia had not returned.


    "If you''re always so cold, you should also be brave enough to go to the city to do who-knows-what," she thought bitterly.


    There was no use, Zinnia would arrive later.


    "I can''t take it anymore, I''m going to bed," Olimpia stretched and stood up from her seat. "My eyes hurt too much to stay."


    Nubia sighed. She ran a hand through her fragile, auburn hair tied with braids that were starting to unravel, losing part of their shape.


    "I''ll stay a bit longer, I''ll wait for her."


    Olimpia cleaned her hands on a rag and looked at Simara. Her eyes were cloudy and silently asked if she should open the door. In silence, Simara shook her head, telling her not to do it, but it was too late. A sudden deduction, a hasty thought crossed Nubia''s blue eyes, and she rushed to the door.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "What if something happened to Zinnia?" she whispered.


    Everything happened very quickly. Simara leaned forward in her chair, listening to the movement and the whistling of the wind as the snowflakes entered the warmth of the hut.


    "For you," she heard the unknown voice of a woman.


    Nubia took a folded square of parchment from the woman''s hand, and suddenly Simara saw how the white hand of the mysterious newcomer suddenly grasped Nubia''s wrist.


    Then it happened.


    Nubia''s body turned into millions of drops of dark blood that bathed Simara from head to toe, staining everything around her - the floor, the table, the chairs, the walls, and part of the thatched roof.


    Simara remained completely still in her place as she watched and felt the warm bath soak her clothes and skin with blood and pieces of flesh.


    Horror.


    Simara reacted when she heard that, outside the house, the woman retreated, letting even more snow enter, which melted when it came into contact with Nubia''s hot blood.


    Simara threw herself at her mother, with a howl.


    "Mom!" Simara shouted as she fell onto the shreds of flesh, skin, and bones that remained of her mother, and the snow hit her, entering the hut more forcefully along with the cold air, completely extinguishing the fire in the hearth with the first gust of wind.


    Simara''s hands were stained red and sticky, and she could barely hold onto anything firmly because the blood and flesh were too slippery. She began to scream and scream, nonstop, but she didn''t shed a single tear as she was completely consumed by the darkness of the hut and the cold that replaced the warmth that once welcomed the room.


    "Mom! Mom!" She screamed until she couldn''t anymore, her voice refusing to come out and her throat hurt and scraped from the inside. Her gaze turned outward, toward the snow that continued to enter violently, where the woman who had grabbed Nubia''s wrist stumbled outside the hut, staining the snow around her with the blood that covered her black tunic, leaving a red trail on the white ground. Beside her, other men with identical tunics waited, riding black horses partially covered by the snowstorm. The woman took uncertain steps and delayed approaching her horse as if she didn''t want to leave. Suddenly, she turned around and looked at Simara and what was left of Nubia, revealing only half of her face and her partially open mouth under the hood of her woolen cloak. The woman raised her hands, and as she did, black tattoos with intertwined symbols appeared on the pale skin of her hands, intricate tattoos that disappeared under the dark woolen clothing of her arms. The woman pushed her hood back and Simara could see her face. The eyelids of her clear eyes were painted with thick black stripes that accentuated her gray eyes. Her sharp features and slender face were framed by straight, black, and brittle hair.


    "What about the girl?" one of the men accompanying her asked from atop his horse.


    "We were told no, only the mother." The woman still looked at Simara, who only stared back with wide eyes, until she turned around and disappeared with her group into the closed snowstorm.


    Kneeling and still with her hands in the warm blood, Simara only watched them leave with something inside her that was very similar to a disgusting impotence that turned into a giant flame.


    Then she knew. She knew even before the men disappeared into the snow of the Snowy Valley before she screamed again, and even before Olimpia arrived running into the kitchen, screaming through the snow that continued to enter.


    Simara would go after them.

 Chapter 3: Non-Living Inhabitants

    Olimpia remained crying next to her mother''s corpse, also staining herself with blood, while Simara fixed her gaze on the floor, without shedding a single tear. She observed the red liquid all over her body, on the floor, and her own hands as if they belonged to someone else, as if her eyes merged with the red color that slowly turned darker and drier.


    "No... if we don''t notify a justice official and flee, we''ll be suspects..." Zinnia whispered through her hands as she struggled to think of the best option and how to handle the situation.


    After a few minutes, Zinnia made up her mind and left the house, quickly mounting her horse and heading to the city to report the massacre. Simara barely noticed. She only observed the blood scattered everywhere and mixed with the water left by the snow, added to Zinnia''s trail.


    As dawn broke, her older sister returned with the royal guard. Simara didn''t even look at them, only forced to glance at them when a soldier pulled them away from their mother''s remains. The girls resisted, clinging to their electric blue capes embroidered with golden threads, but it was no use, the men were much stronger than them.


    Simara focused on Zinnia, who approached them and asked a thousand times what had happened, and then she heard her voice.


    "They killed her. She... just exploded. It was men dressed in black..."


    She watched Zinnia talk to the soldiers and the regional justice official, who was concise about who he believed was responsible. According to the official, it was clear that, due to the nature of the murder, the crime was the work of the most dangerous terrorist organization in all of Gremen: the Onyx Organization, run by extremist miorklaxs and fugitives seeking to destabilize the crown using ¡®gemancy¡¯, with which they used the power of precious gems.


    The guard also made it clear that Nubia had to be buried as soon as possible, even despite the heavy snowfall, due to diseases and filth. The priest was summoned and soon arrived, cursing and completely soaked, to proceed with the burial and give the deceased a holy burial.


    As they arrived at the Snowy Valley cemetery, Simara was shocked because life went on as normal, as if her mother, Nubia, hadn''t died. The snow continued to fall just like always, the horses behaved as was their nature, the guards acted according to just another case of violence among thousands, and the priest rushed to his morning mass. Business as usual.


    They soon crossed the wide, ancient iron gates of the cemetery entrance, with their curls and flourishes covered in piled-up snow. The silence was broken by the sounds of the horses invading the holy field, the snow falling on each stone tombstone and moss, so ancient they almost became part of the earth, and the steep path to the burial site.


    Simara''s confused head couldn''t understand why they were there. A part of her refused to understand it, trying to look at her mount to avoid seeing the dark tombstones that stretched out, by the hundreds, on both sides of the stone path that could barely be distinguished.


    "Girl," the priest''s rough voice startled Simara, making her raise her head. "Look up and memorize the path, you''ll need it. Do it."


    Simara hated him but obeyed. She forced herself to look at each tombstone and memorize the path to Nubia''s burial site. Many tombstones later, they arrived at a less populated area of non-living inhabitants, with available space.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.


    The gravediggers hurried to dig through the snow and then the earth to create the hole where Nubia would rest forever, leaving behind white and dark brown mounds. With some help, Simara got off the horse and took uncertain steps on the snow, watching as the hole grew and grew. She walked, sinking each foot into the snow, towards the burlap sack containing Nubia''s remains, which were starting to leave a large bloodstain on the ice around them, and stayed close to them, very still, until it was time to bury her.


    When the soldiers opened the sack and poured out Nubia''s remains, Simara saw how each piece disappeared into the darkness of the earth pit, dark and cold. She observed the heavy snowfall that began to fall from the dark gray sky, the small snowflakes were like white wool pom-poms that fell forcefully and acquired all shades of gray as they disappeared into the pit. Next to her, the other people took shelter in their winter clothes, as the snowfall brought a new cold wind that chilled to the bone, but Simara didn''t even pretend to close her open brown cardigan. She simply embraced the icy wind, receiving it fully. And, for once, she wished she was just another snowflake.


    Soon, without saying a word after covering the pit, the priest urged Simara and her sisters to get back on their horses to return to their hut, promising that the investigation into Nubia''s death would continue and progress.


    Simara didn''t care.


    Once they were alone in the hut, which tried to be cozy again, each of them started doing something.


    Without saying a word, Simara cleaned up the blood mess in the room with Olimpia, whose sobs echoed in the silence as they both felt their clothes soaked and smoking from the growing heat of the lit hearth. As soon as she entered the kitchen, Zinnia took a bottle of liquor from a shelf, crossed the door to the room, and locked herself in, closing the wooden door. Simara and Olimpia paused for a second to listen to the commotion coming from the section of the hut where the eldest was, and they understood it in an instant: Zinnia was destroying the entire room.


    Simara didn''t care, nor did she pause too much to think about her or the mess they would have to clean up because there was something more important occupying her mind, something that became everything. As she dragged the red-stained rag across the floor, spreading the liquid that seemed to seep through the joints of the stones and be absorbed by the wood that had touched it, she heard a faint meowing.


    Simara raised her head from her task and soon remembered Nubia''s little cat. In the chaos of the moment, they had completely forgotten about the cat, who surely must have hidden in some nook of the place.


    Simara got up from the floor and started calling the little cat to come out of its hiding place.


    "Viko... Viko, come. Out... Kitty..."


    She walked towards a pile of wicker baskets with stacked wool and the meows seemed to come from closer by. She searched through the wool until she found him, hidden among several skeins of yarn in a small basket. His small green eyes looked at her warily.


    "Poor Viko," Simara said, taking the cat out of the basket and holding him against her chest. She felt the cat trembling as it growled at her, scared.


    "With all those screams, you must have felt in danger. Nothing''s wrong, it''s over. I''ll give you some meat and cheese."


    She stroked the cat''s black fur, which was completely standing on end, and left him on the table to get the salted meat and cheese from the pantry. She cut some pieces of meat and cheese and left them directly on the table, and the kitten stopped growling and started eating, happy and somewhat desperate. Finally, Simara felt that she could have some quiet to calm her mind, a little of the tranquility she desperately needed to think.


    Simara sat on the long bench at the table, stroking the kitten as it ate greedily, with the warmth and light of the hearth and oil lamp bathing them. She sighed and looked at the cat while making the same promise to herself that she had made a long time ago.


    "I''ll catch you and destroy you. I''ll kill you, no matter how much it costs me," Simara thought.

 Chapter 4: A Birthright

    Simara left Viko on the table and directed her gaze toward the bedroom door. In just one second, she decided what she had to do. She walked at a mortally slow pace towards the room that the three sisters shared, crossing the round archway made of clay and stone.


    As she approached, the noise of the destruction that Zinnia was causing in the room grew louder, but it didn''t intimidate her. At another time, her sister''s violence would have scared her, but now she understood it.


    Simara continued walking and stopped in front of the door, opening it slowly. She saw Zinnia sweeping the small wooden table next to the two large straw beds, knocking over the candelabras for the tallow candles, the short and yellowish candles, and the fire stones to light them. Then, she shook the remaining bed, throwing the wool blankets to the floor and throwing the straw from the mattress in all directions while crying furiously and nervously, but Simara didn''t flinch.


    She walked past Zinnia without even fearing that she would push her in her frenzy and headed towards one of the loose stones on the bedroom floor, near the baseboard. She lifted the stone and removed the key that Nubia had always kept hidden underneath. Then, she approached the walnut wood chest that was next to one of the beds and turned the iron key in its lock, opening it with the feeling of profaning an ancient and lost treasure. A treasure that would make her disappear if the royal guard discovered that they had it in their possession.


    There they were, stored for so long, among other trinkets. Simara took her old brooch with the oval amethyst surrounded by ancient gold and silver arabesques and felt how the beautiful crystal with different shades of purple emitted that familiar pulsing heat from within, spreading throughout her skin to her bones and heart.


    The gemstone that had been stored for so long by her mother Nubia shone in her hand with mysterious flashes of power. Simara''s life was changing, and she didn''t even know if she would be able to survive, but nothing mattered anymore because when her mother had died, a part of her had died too. A part of her was already buried in the Snowy Valley cemetery, that''s why she decided to disobey the order that Nubia had always given them, to never open the chest or take out the jewelry it contained, which had been guarded so suspiciously for years.


    Next to her brooch was Zinnia''s amethyst ring, now too small, and Olimpia''s amethyst earrings. They were the jewels that the three sisters had inherited, the jewels that their clan had given them as an offering, although they were much more than that. Those amethysts were a birthright.


    Simara fastened the brooch to her clothing and took the earrings and the ring. When she passed by Zinnia, who was crying strongly on the floor, she handed her the small ring.


    "Take it," Simara said.


    Zinnia raised her bloodshot blue eyes to look at her through the dim light of the only remaining candle and saw the jewel that Simara was offering her. It was a small gold ring with a round amethyst set in it, whose surface was polished to be straight, shiny, and smooth. On that shiny surface of the gemstone, the profile of a man was engraved.


    "It''s your amethyst ring, the ring that your clan gave you with honor. I can''t ignore it anymore," Simara said.


    Zinnia looked at her and raised an arm to take the ring. After glancing at it, her eyes filled with more tears as she put the child-sized ring on the little finger of her left hand, the ring she hadn''t worn in fourteen years.Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    Simara simply turned around and left her alone because she wanted to give the earrings to Olimpia. She went downstairs and found her other sister crying on one of the long benches at the table. She approached her slowly, sat down next to her, and put a hand on her shoulder as Olimpia looked up and gave her a distressed smile.


    "Sima," Olimpia said, taking her hand and squeezing it affectionately. Simara returned the smile.


    "What about Zinnia?" Olimpia asked.


    "She''s destroying the whole room," Simara replied.


    Olimpia nodded. "Yes, I can hear her from here. She''s having a crisis, releasing so much energy that she doesn''t know how to channel it, and she does what she does. I''m worried... that it will happen again. That she will become mute again."


    Simara understood what her sister was referring to.


    "Do you mean when King Rigel..." Simara began.


    "Yes," Olimpia replied, looking at her seriously. "I''m talking about when King Rigel murdered our entire clan, the Derklaxs clan. When Rigel began to rule..."


    Simara''s heart froze at the memory.


    "We managed to escape. I was very young, but I remember Zinnia clearly. It took Mom a whole year for Zinnia to say a single word again. And now I''m afraid it might happen again, that she won''t be able to withstand it. Did you see her in bad shape?"


    "She''s pretty bad," Simara couldn''t lie.


    Olimpia sighed and covered her face with her hands again, showing her tension. "But listen. She has us two, we''re all three in this together. Do you understand?" Olimpia showed her face again and smiled. The orange light of the fire illuminated her from the side, bringing out the shine in the furrows of her tears.


    "The three of us. If... " Olimpia''s gaze suddenly turned to Simara''s closed fist in her lap. "It sounds crazy, but it seems right to me. Your gemstone is where it belongs now."


    Simara lowered her face and struggled to contain her tears. "Sima... you always try to be so strong," Olimpia began to caress her hair while hugging her, and Simara let herself be cradled by her warm hug as if she were a child.


    "You also have to remember that we''re all three together, especially when we''re facing him." Simara clung to her clothes as Olimpia regained some strength.


    "Because we will be... and when we''re facing Rigel, you have to remember that. Only then will we defeat him." Simara looked to the side, beyond Olimpia, towards the flames of the fire, and let the crackling flood her ears as she absent-mindedly caressed one of the red flowers painted on the wooden table.


    That''s how it would be.


    Suddenly, a memory occupied Simara''s mind. "Oli, didn''t Mom have her regulatory gemstone?"


    Olimpia frowned and nodded. "Yes, she had a much smaller brooch than yours. It was round and small, made of silver."


    Simara nodded thoughtfully. "In the chest where our jewels were stored, her brooch wasn''t there. There was nothing but unimportant trinkets, but no sign of her gemstone." Simara looked at Olimpia, confused.


    "Do you think she was using her brooch?"


    Olimpia shifted her gaze to another point in the hut, thoughtfully. "If she had used it when everything happened, the guards might have found it when... you know, they buried her. And in that case, we would be in ''the pit'' now."


    "But... maybe it wasn''t like that, maybe the brooch is..." Simara''s voice faded away.


    "In the cemetery. In that case, I wouldn''t want to find out," Olimpia finished before standing up from her seat, clenching her jaw tightly. "Anyway, Sima, try to rest. Something tells me that nothing has ended yet."


    Simara watched her walk alongside the fire and sit down in one of the wooden chairs to warm her hands. Then, she turned her gaze to the small cat, who had already finished eating the cheese and was licking his paws.


    Simara decided to take her sister''s advice. She searched through one of the wicker baskets and pulled out a large, dark green woolen blanket that Nubia had woven a long time ago. She spread it out on the floor next to the fire pit and lay down on one of her sides, grateful for the warmth and the fact that the floor was now clean of blood. Everything was more comfortable than the room destroyed by Zinnia.


    As her eyes began to close, overcome by sleep, Simara felt Viko''s small body curl up next to her on the blanket.

 Chapter 5: The Limbo

    Far away, in the Limbo.


    It wasn''t the first time he hadn''t been invited. After all, the devil was an unwelcome being in the celestial domains of Father Divion. There were beings all over the terrestrial world and the divine world who prayed to keep him away, to keep him from their existences. And with good reason: the corruptor could destroy everything they loved, he had his strategies to achieve it.


    The devil walked at a very fast pace through the large hall of his dwelling made of translucent black crystal, his pale and bare feet moved without harming themselves on the floor of sharp black stones while his long blond hair and his ethereal tunic swept the mist around him. His castle was his fetid dwelling, his temple of calamity, and Morathor was his home where he moved like a fish in water.


    In the distance, a green light flashed over a black ice cliff, where his infernal retinue was waiting for him to leave his domains and head to the limbo. The devil smiled and chuckled as his mind flew from thought to thought. He didn''t blame them, it was understandable that the angels hadn''t invited him when Divion summoned his celestial troops, but he, Daien, the devil, prince of dusk and chaos, didn''t need to be invited. He went wherever he wanted, his law was the only one he respected.


    As soon as Bias, the demon who was his general, communicated with him and told him about the summons, he knew he couldn''t miss that meeting. He didn''t take pleasure in going to the limbo, to that place plagued by angels who wandered trying to help the living beings who had died and refused to leave the Earth, but for nothing in the galaxy could he miss what was going to happen there.


    When he arrived at the top of the black ice mountain, along with all his infernal troops, he opened his enormous and majestic black wings to jump into dimensions until he reached the celestial plane, flying between a million realities and worlds until he reached the neutral territory.


    The summons was in Zekir, the limbo, a place where a peaceful and silent atmosphere reigned, without disturbances. That was perfect because the devil was not allowed to enter the celestial palace, the limbo was perfect for him.


    Behind him, Daien felt his warriors following him, flying like millions of rabid bats that would be ready to act if a fight broke out against the angelic troops.


    The devil let the cosmic breeze caress him as he arrived at his destination and his feet landed softly on the warm vapor ground. He smiled as he saw the marble statues, the temples, and the forgotten ruins that characterized the limbo. Always static and forgotten.


    Divion and the celestial hierarchies were formed and firm, with their white wings shining under the golden light that seeped between the ruins. The devil narrowed his eyes, blinded by the light that characterized Divion, the sun god who was always present and silent, feeling disgusted.


    The father of all observed as they listened to the voice of the devil''s older brother, the archangel Likanet, and the devil reminded himself that he would be before him only for an infinitely small fraction of his entire existence. That was a consolation.


    "Finally, we have found the place of conflict on Earth," sounded the melodious and thunderous voice of Likanet, dancing to his ears, strong and high, alongside the light rays. His older brother''s black eyes showed fierceness and determination, a determination that affirmed they would fight for the protection of humans. Likanet''s black hair and skin shone under the light.


    "It is on Earth and in all its dimensions that evil is unfolding, but we can protect them. It''s certain we can stop it." The devil watched as Likanet hardened his perfect features and exclamations began to be heard among the ranks of the angels. Some held their breath, others exclaimed, and many began to shout and chant with joy.


    "We can bring salvation to men, soon they will be able to live their lives in peace. We just need to stop him."


    "How beautiful!" the devil thought, starting to laugh with glee, letting his voice tinkle in the air, softly applauding. The silence unfolded in the place, and the ranks of angels turned to look at him. They looked at him with... hatred.Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.


    "Bravo!" ¡ªthe devil felt entertained and inspired¡ª. "Well done! Humans will be happy and eat partridges."


    Likanet hardened his face even more when he became aware of his presence. Even his long, lacy black hair lost its shine.


    "You''re here."


    "Thank you for inviting me" ¡ªthe devil was smiling¡ª. "I couldn''t miss this. It''s the most entertaining show I''ve seen in a million years. Seeing hope in their eyes is... inspiring. Joyful."


    Likanet shook his white wings, annoyed. He raised his guard and firmly held his golden sword. The devil didn''t need a sword. He walked forward, toward Likanet, while the ranks of angel messengers and warriors stepped aside as if he had a poisonous aura around him. And he did.


    They made way for him to pass, opening a path while the devil''s bare feet felt the vapor beneath his skin turn icy, dead like everything that came into contact with him.


    "Why so much tension? Let me celebrate with you."


    "The day of the end of your freedom is approaching" ¡ªLikanet released the words like rays¡ª. "Enjoy your free time."


    Daien shook his head.


    "You can''t capture evil, you can''t contain death. I''m in everything that lives, my nature is intrinsic to the existence of all living things, I thought you already knew that."


    "The end of your empire of evil is approaching. We know what you''ve been doing, we know how you''ve been playing with humans for decades, and we''ll do something about it. No empire of calamity exists forever."


    The devil put on a tired face and sighed.


    "Pure fairy tales. You know that doesn''t exist, wake up already. Nobody can beat me, it''s simply pointless, evil exists and must exist" ¡ªLikanet narrowed his eyes and twisted his mouth in an expression of disgust, but Daien hurried to not let him speak¡ª. "The Father lets me do it. There must be a balance between Good and Evil, that''s why they let me play my game. Besides, it''s fair. Humans choose their destiny with their free will, I don''t force them to do anything."


    The devil''s smile widened.


    "Sometimes, they call me and beg me to play. It''s exquisite."


    "I already know what sick game you''re talking about, brother. And I know which humans you''re referring to. Up to that point, everything is valid, but we have reasons to believe that you want much more than to play with them, that''s why I''m warning you. We''re going to stop you" ¡ªa growl grew in the archangel Likanet''s throat, warning him that they had discovered him.


    However, the devil smiled cynically.


    "I don''t know what you''re talking about, brother. I''m not planning anything that''s outside of what I can do, you can''t forbid me anything. I know how humans are and how they manage their world, don''t forget that I''ve been traveling the Earth and walking through it and all its astral dimensions. I''m always there, it''s my favorite place. Seeing humans corrupt themselves is my greatest passion. But that''s all."


    "Leave now, corruptor!" ¡ªan angel shouted from afar, and the others cheered, seconding him¡ª. "You''ve already done too much harm!"


    The devil laughed with glee.


    "The Father wants me to be here too. If not, this beautiful gathering wouldn''t have taken place in neutral territory. That''s why I have every right to stay and share in your joy at the arrival of the end of my freedom."


    Likanet took another step forward, and the devil felt how the demons behind him started to hiss and growl. He had succeeded. The fight was about to start, and that was the only way he would feel comfortable. It had been exactly a thousand years since he last fought the angels, and he was eager to be given another opportunity to use his weapons and stretch his wings in combat.


    "I warn you, brother. Don''t interfere" ¡ªLikanet hissed.


    Suddenly, the archangel Otris, the devil''s other brother, stepped out of one of the ranks and stood between his two brothers. His white hair and eyes shone before the devil''s gaze.


    "Let there be peace..."


    "My dear visionary brother! How long has it been since I last saw you? A thousand years?" The devil smiled at his brother.


    "Enough, Daien. You should leave," Otris said, trying to calm the atmosphere. He raised his hands in a sign of truce. "We don''t want a fight today."


    "Oh, I do. I am chaos."


    "You choose to be that way every day..."


    The devil''s eyes turned serious and profound, while the smile remained on his face, like a grotesque grimace.


    "No. I choose chaos because that''s the role Divion gave me a long time ago, longer than I can remember. Now, enlighten me. Tell me exactly what you saw." When the devil finished speaking, Otris hesitated.


    "No... don''t tell him..." Likanet whispered. Without fully making up his mind, Otris finally spoke.

 Chapter 6: The Devil Has Already Chosen

    Otris twisted his white hands as he explained. "You plan to take over the Earth and its people, but you can''t do that because you can''t interfere with their souls without them giving you access. You can''t even kill them without their permission. They are more powerful than you, that''s why you''re playing with their free will. Isn''t that right, brother?"


    Daien rolled his eyes and signaled Otris to hurry up with a wave of his hand. The insignificant conjectures bored him. He was impatient.


    "You''re playing with them, corrupting them to play a nauseating game of evil. You''re breaking their souls with each insane game, but that''s not all. You want to become one of them."


    The corruptor waited for Otris to continue, but Otris stopped.


    "And? Is that it? Is that all?" Daien asked anxiously.


    "Did you expect something more, brother?" Likanet asked.


    "Well... I don''t know. Maybe I expected something more... longer and with more foundation to believe that about you. All this doesn''t mean anything."


    Likanet was losing his patience. "Otris''s visions are clear. We saw your game, we saw what you devised to unbalance the world''s scale. You want to create a being strong enough to decide to fight you and, thus, gain their free will."


    The devil laughed at them with glee, holding his stomach with his hands as if his guts were going to spill out from laughing so hard.


    "What? Do you think I''d exert myself just for the stupid human world? It''s stupid, they and everything around them are insignificant. I have my world tailored to my taste: Morathor."


    "Your law is greed, even Morathor is not enough for you," Likanet spat at him.


    The devil narrowed his eyes, smiled, and shrugged. "That''s true. You know me well, although I''d prefer something better than Earth. I''d prefer something like a hell of lava and pestilence or a place with a sea of thick, black oil like Morathor''s. I find it extremely pleasant."


    Without warning, Otris stiffened, opening his white eyes wide. He spoke in a trance, and everyone held their breath.


    "There are two women. Their hair is on fire, and hatred consumes them. But one is in more danger than the other. One of them... is in real danger. Her smell... is nauseating."


    He coughed, coming back to his senses, but his face looked more gaunt. He took a deep breath and spoke.


    "The smell of her fury... is nauseating."


    "Calm down, brother. We can do something for her... We can do something for all of them..." Likanet seemed hopeful, but to the devil, it seemed like nonsense.


    "Well... Well... It seems like madness to me. I''ve already said what I think. Even if I wanted to play a game with humans, no one could beat me because I am the prince of chaos. I am much more than just any ordinary human."


    Likanet faced him again. "Daien, do you doubt our brother Otris? Do you doubt a son of Divion?"


    The devil rolled his eyes. "You forget, brother, that I am also a son of Divion. And that didn''t stop me from falling into the abyss..." Likanet showed his teeth while growling.


    "Enough. Enough, both of you," Otris ordered. "Likanet, don''t take part in his game."


    Likanet took a deep breath and calmed down, then spoke gravely while his black eyes almost sparkled.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    "You haven''t won here, corruptor."


    Daien smiled charmingly. He couldn''t wait to see the faces of the archangels when he finished executing his plan when the last of his pieces were in place.


    "Oh, brother. Don''t underestimate me."


    Otris watched the exchange between his brothers with fear and shook his head disapprovingly.


    "It can''t be, Daien..."


    The smile spread even more across the devil''s face as Simara''s face formed in his mind thanks to his divine perception, with her dark brown eyes with a disturbed gaze, her white skin, and her long, fiery red hair.


    "Why not? Why can''t it be?"


    "What are they talking about? What is he going to do?" Likanet was confused.


    "He''s already done it. Daien has seen her life and visited her on Earth. I''m sure he''s already corrupted her path."


    "No! What have you done?! She doesn''t deserve to die in your hands..."


    Likanet leaped forward and placed the blade of his sword against the devil''s neck. The devil didn''t move a single millimeter, he just smiled as the demons behind him growled.


    "I haven''t done anything, but you''re right, nobody deserves to die in my hands, as you well know, but if they can die in your hands" ¡ªDaien whispered next to his brother''s face as his smile widened with joy¡ª "Why don''t you say that? Oh, great archangel of war. Why don''t you say that archangels don''t do what I do because they''re not allowed to? I am, that''s why they fear and envy me."


    "You''re wrong, corruptor. Our existence pursues goodness and justice."


    "I don''t believe you. After all, I was also an archangel like you, and I became the Lord of Morathor."


    "You became the lord of Morathor, land of putrefaction because you believed you could be more important and powerful than your Father, Divion. That''s why you were degraded and incinerated to the abyss. So, since you couldn''t be the most powerful in Heaven, you want to be the most powerful on Earth. We, the beings who inhabit the higher dimensions, know that power is goodness. Now, tell me, what have you done in the woman''s life?"


    The devil sighed. "Absolutely nothing. Humans don''t need me to do anything to destroy each other. I was just there to see the calamity, the blood explosion, and all that."


    "However, everything points to your game..." "Luckily, I decided to come. This is fun!" the corruptor thought.


    "They keep talking about a ''supposed game''. Anyway, they''re wrong. My aim is set on Morathor, not to mention that humans don''t need me to do anything, they pursue evil without me having to influence them. Besides" ¡ªDaien continued speaking as he pushed the blade of the sword away from his neck¡ª "you say that girl praises Divion, but didn''t it occur to you to ask yourself why she praises Him?"


    Otris took a step forward and spoke. "Where are you going with this?"


    "That girl, Simara Novak, had everything. She lived in the filthy city of Valle Nevado with its tyrannical king, it''s true, but knowing who she was and that, despite that, she managed to save her life, I''d say she was very lucky. She wasn''t rich, but that seemed to be more of a blessing than a punishment. She had a mother who loved her, and sisters who, although they fought, also loved her. She had a family and a cozy home. She also had dreams and the possibility of fulfilling them. Food, water, simplicity, and unusual well-being in the dangerous environment she lived in. She possessed just the right amount of abundance to be able to grow, despite everything that happened, she was now happy and had love. Since she was born, Divion has been giving her a lot, that''s why she praises Him and believes in Him. But... what if she didn''t have all those blessings? Would she still praise Him?"


    Likanet and the devil kept staring into each other''s eyes until Likanet spoke with hatred.


    "Now you''re interested in true faith? That woman has been through many things, she''s seen her clan die. "And now, her mother," Daien thought, but he just shrugged.


    "After all, I''m a son of Divion just like you. I just want to see how far her faith goes and if she keeps it. It''s simple to see, it''s happened before: it''s all just talk... nothing more. I assure you, she''s just an ordinary human, they''re horrible beings."


    Likanet pierced him with his gaze. He hated him.


    "You always have to stick your nose in where nobody calls you, always sowing discord" ¡ªLikanet clenched his jaw¡ª. "Life is more fun with a little flavor. That''s what I do."


    "I''ll be watching you... You can take everything away from her, you can ruin her, tempt her. But I am the right hand of Divion, His eldest son, and I have the power to forbid you from killing her. You are forbidden by Divion to take her life. As for the rest, you''re free. If you can take her humanity away, this battle will be yours. Perfect."


    The devil turned around, and his army followed him directly to Morathor, crossing millions of realities of all colors and shapes. As his black wings guided him toward his dominion, he thought about what he would do next and reveled in what awaited him.


    "You can forbid me from killing her, except if she asks me to," he repeated to himself as he disappeared into the darkness.