47 || Morana the Cursed
Something so cruel and violent could also be stunningly beautiful.
Washes of rose and coral, strips of the truest pink woven between them, bathed the sky as dawn approached Wyrith.
The tide lapped at the blend of sand and stone — the graveyard of ships that had fallen to the wall the curse created around the island.
It was bittersweet being back, again and again. As if the coastline were a siren's song luring her in, the allure too strong to resist.
This was where her second life had begun, where she had crawled up onto the shore with shaking limbs, weak from days without food, and into the arms of Silas who had welcomed her to the Lost Abyss. This was where Morana The Cursed was born and this was where she would end.
Her Fireborn's ashes had been safely deposited where they wouldn't come to any harm, though he still lingered everywhere. In her nails, smeared against her skin, in the creases of her clothes. He would always be with her, no matter what.
Morana fished out her necklace and turned the gemstone over in her palm.
For the longest time, she had found comfort in it.
Despite the gruesome circumstance, it had always been the last thing she had of her mother.
Queen Oleress had given it to her was she was young and it was the object that had taken her life.
Keeping it with her at all times meant the necromancer always had a piece of her with her, even with all the death it caused.
The ever-glowing purple was now tainted black, shadows swirling where the magic would have once been. Now, it was a permanent reminder of the monster she had become.
Squeezing it tightly in her fist, she threw it into the Molten Sea, a scream of pain fighting free from her chest. She was free of it, free of her languish and misfortunes. Yet, it still wasn't enough.
Her mother was gone. Her fire boy was gone.
Morana had failed in the worst way and she had no clue what to do now.
You've failed me. Silas's voice filled her mind, pushing into spaces where it wasn't welcome. A punishment is only fitting.
Morana took a step towards the Molten Sea, letting the water lap at her feet.
She was cursed and she always would be, just like her father had told her before he plunged a dagger into her chest. This was her most despicable failure of all, it was only right that she suffered the consequences, just like Silas would have suggested.
The ocean she was born from was the only fitting place.
Morana The Cursed waded into the Molten Sea, letting the waves consume her until all she could see was darkness.