In Nica's Shadow

NOTE: This story is discontinued and completed. It was written at a time I was very sick and thought. It would not turn out well. I have shifted the energy of writing to a new story that is a more intense form of BDSM and romance but doesn't delve as deeply in pending death and doom. In the realm where mortals tread, I observe their frantic scurrying, stumbling from grace, and bowing before false deities. They sacrifice kin and companions, seeking fleeting solace. The art of traversing known realms and conquering fear eludes them. I have allowed them to wander aimlessly for far too long. The foul scent of hope pollutes the world as they yield to fear, devoid of valor and pride. I dispatched my begotten sons, time and again, to seduce and ravage the sins of the masses, heralding an era of death and desire. Plagues and wars unfurled as my sons painted the world in chaos. A sly grin emerges upon my lips, for I delight in the spectacle. It reminds me of a nursery rhyme from a bygone era, whispered at a child's bedside. The darkness weaves strange reminiscences of the bittersweet. A child afflicted by plague's boils and the mother's dread realization of transmitting her malady. Through the ages, naught has changed since their first steps upon the earth. Agony and despair linger in the air, the essence and longing of existence. Amidst the apparent serenity, a subtle note of turmoil wafts—a melody of corrupted souls. For even in their docility, these creations can wield ruthlessness. Alas, they revere strength, unaware that the mightiest often shatter, crying like infants as their bones snap between my fingers. ----------------------------------------------------------------------- Should you seek a tale of systematic oppression, generational torment, vile assault, and the macabre, I extend an invitation to the narrative of innocence's demise—the beauty found within life's darkest corners. The battle yet wages, and perchance, as my final thoughts manifest, redemption shall unfold its melodic strains. Or perchance, I shall pen their ultimate sentence—an exquisite requiem, unbridling my vengeance in the shadows cast by Nica.

DerekJPerna · Fantasia

Classificações insuficientes

53 Chs

CH8 - Guardian Discovered

Nica peers into the darkness at the hidden figure who seems to be visible within the red mist. Looking through the tiny home, she wishes she had left the house wearing something more substantial. Nica shivers and asks, "Do you have a wash basin?"

Nica watches quietly as her only answer comes from the woman opening her palm. A spark emerges as it dances quickly across her hand, floating in a fiery blue orb. The orb outlines her face, with an upside-down cross carved into her flesh. Her eyes blink slowly as the light dims, moving through a soft red shimmering space between them.

She watches as the orb passes her in a black cloak and simple dress. Nica can't help but stare at the scared woman in the darkness, "Who are you?"

"A guide. You can strip off those rags, use the wash basin behind you to clean, and then put on the gown. The water is warm."

Nica turns and looks to the wash basin behind her and feels foolish. It is not what she expected. She is still determining what she had hoped to find. Maybe a Warrior who would immediately set off to hurt her father to save the people of the village single-handedly somehow.

Taking a deep breath, she slowly removes the remaining muddy tatters of her sheer dress. Never knowing why she wore it as it barely covered anything and had exposed her to the world. As she pulls the dress over her head, she wonders what the purpose of it is. Why was it designed to be that way?

Picking up a cloth beside the basin, Nica dips her hands in warm water that bubbles once she touches the water. Immediately pulling her hands back in momentary fear. But some white bubble sits on the surface that she picks up, gently cupping the cloth in her hand. It takes a few moments for her to wash herself, but she soon loses herself in its sense and warmth, doing her best to clean her back. A feat accomplished by the agile movements of young.

Slowly as she washes herself, Nica finds the worries being lifted from her mind. The soft fragrance of flowers emanates from the water as she cleans herself. The blue orb follows her movements, so as she washes, she is dried. The moment she has finished cleaning herself, she looks at the dress and picks it up from the notch.

Slipping the dress over her head, she pauses as the billowing dress falls down her shoulders. She feels slight confusion about how it falls across her body; lifted by her breasts, it moves across her body and sits barely expands across her hips.

The lovely fabric falls across her body as she pauses, waiting for it to change magically in a few moments. A sense of terror flashes when nothing happens as Nica wonders what she did wrong.

Turning, she looks worried at the woman covered in the shadows, "It doesn't fit. Did I do something wrong?"

"Doesn't it?" The voice asks softly as the blue orb floats across Nica's body, examining the dress as it covers her shoulders and knees.

"It doesn't. See?" Nica asks, grabbing the dress and pinching it around her waist as the fabric is pulled tightly to her body.

"That doesn't look very comfortable or practical."

"Well, no, but it is how they are supposed to fit."

"Is it warm?"

"Yes."

"If you need to go outside, you will take the hooded cloak, understood?"

"Yes, but..."

"But, what?"

"How will someone see me for who I am?"

A soft sigh is headed across the room, "You are one of two women, in fact, one of two people with a dark complexion in this village. Wouldn't that allude to your likeness far more than the clothing you wear?"

"Yes, but the scriptures state..."

"The scriptures state what you are to wear. What do the Gods care about such things?"

"I don't know about the Gods. But I know that we are meant to serve a higher purpose. To be to the needs of others."

"Why do you have to serve anyone? Why can't you be yourself? What is not good enough for the Gods?"

Nica feels foolish to have the question asked aloud. She realizes her mother had raised her to find peace serving a man. That it was her natural duty to the Gods to do so, and anything less would be to go against the Gods and nature. She is saddened in a way she can't express to realize this dream, this singular purpose she was born and raised for.

"Yes, it is my purpose to serve those appointed over me as the Gods intend."

"You have two choices before you. One is you can take the dress, return to the village, and find your way home as a slave to society. The second choice is to stay here and, in doing so, will have a chance to be reborn a witch. Trained to find a singular purpose to find your power within yourself. To use that power to break free of your shackles."

"How can I serve a purpose? I have no power."

"By obeying the whims of my Master as I do."

"So then I will serve a man?"

"You will serve a teacher who is training you."

"Then how is that different?"

"You will serve someone in the end to better your own goals. To strengthen your needs to be stronger in the world. Yes, it is a life of service initially, but wouldn't you rather protect yourself than be a pet for another?"

Nica nods in humiliation, "Yes, as the Gods destine it."

"Forget the Gods, and come to follow me. I will train you to become more than you were ever born to be."

"And who are you, Mistress?"

"I am Gabriella, slave of Caesar."

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