Cursed Blood

A crowd of people squeezed through the crowded streets toward the even more overcrowded city square. In the very center of it, on a high platform, already stood the Bard, clad in a long green robe of rich embroidery. He was a man nearing forty, whose fame had long since circled the magical world of Arcanum several times. There was not a child, young man or old man in any of the five kingdoms who did not know at least one of his stories.

Wherever he appeared, people gathered in crowds, eager to hear the legends he carried with him like treasures. But today was a special day. It was today that the Renewal was being celebrated - a holiday that occurs once a decade, during which the Bards spun the tale of the Beginning of the World and the Dark Times. And no one could tell the story with such flair and passion as he did.

The square was bursting at the seams. Young men lifted their female companions on their shoulders so they could see the Bard at least for a moment. Parents lifted their children, who stretched their necks with baked faces, trying to see a real legend teller for the first time in their lives.

The Bard looked at the crowd and straightened up. In his hands he clutched an ornate, tall stick, with which he struck the wooden stage three times. A deep sound spread across the square, and the din quieted. Then he made a quick gesture with his hand, casting a spell that would carry his voice to the farthest corners of the square.

Silence fell.

- In the Beginning there was nothingness," he began in a strong and resonant voice. - Darkness and emptiness, which was not illuminated by even the lightest rays of any sun we knew. There was no life, no colors, everything was black and gray.

He paused for a moment, sweeping his gaze over the listening faces.

- Until they appeared. The deities of Creation.

The crowd held its breath.

- First, the God of Light placed three suns in the sky, whose radiance chased away the ever-present darkness. The Goddess of Night gave the firmament millions of stars and two moons. Thanks to them, the eternal cycle of days and nights prevailed. Then the other Deities combined their powers, giving rise to life. The barren land was covered with lush vegetation, water appeared in the beds of rivers and lakes. Finally, the world was habitable. The deities gave it a name: Arcanum.

- In its early days, Arcanum was a paradise, inhabited only by the Deities. For hundreds of years they enjoyed peace and quiet, but eventually they decided to share their land. In all their generosity, they opened a portal to the Universe and searched for a long time for beings worthy of this gift. Finally they found the right people - a few dozen families to give rise to the human population.

- Humans did not know magic at that time," Bard continued. - But they didn't need it. They lived in peace, surrounded by the protection of the Deities. There were no wars, disputes or hatred in Arcanum. Everyone was kind and helpful.

Silence fell again.

- Until.

The crowd trembled.

- People increased in number, they began to gather in settlements. Over time, divisions emerged, then rivalries, and finally - conflicts. The deities, seeing the growing hostility, proposed to divide the land into five kingdoms. Thus were created: Azareth, a land of lakes, rivers and forests, straddling the ocean; Draevanar, a land of mountains and valleys; Medyra, which was formed by a series of islands cut off from the mainland; and Serandor and Draleth, lands divided among the people to ensure balance and restore peace.

- The deities allowed the inhabitants to choose which kingdom they wanted to live in, and ordered the establishment of rulers who were to rule justly. They personally crowned the leaders chosen by the people, giving them divine blessings. Also for themselves, in the sky firmament the Deities built their kingdom from where they were to watch their beloved beings and their fate for all time.

- But not everyone was satisfied - the Bard's voice quieted, and there was almost absolute silence in the square. - There was a group among the people who wanted more. They envied the Deities their power, their immortality.

A woman in the crowd clenched her hand on the amulet worn around her neck, as if this could protect her from the words that were to come.

- The group showed increasing resentment and dissatisfaction. Eventually, they rebelled against the Deities.

Several people held their breath.

- They kidnapped one of the Deities of Creation and forced it to open the gates to the Universe for them. They thought they would find power behind them. That they would gain power equal to the divine.

The bard raised an ornate stick and struck the ground with it once.

- Instead of power.... They brought doom.

Some boy squealed quietly, clutching his father's hand.

- Through the open portal came creatures that should never have been in the Arcanum. Monsters ... And demons.

The words echoed off the walls of the buildings.

- The world, which was full of life, almost turned to ruin.

When the Bard broke off, silence hung over the square. The crowd, hitherto listening, seemed to hold its breath in anticipation of his next words. But he waited. He knew he had to give the people time to absorb the importance of the story before he told the rest of it.

For this was not just a story.

It was a warning.

The bard corrected his grip on his ornate stick and looked around at the crowd. Hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at him in anticipation, the listeners' hearts beat faster. They knew what was to come, but still each held their breath.

- This is how the Dark Ages began," he took up again, and his voice, amplified by magic, carried over the crowd like an echo of an ancient curse. - The world that the Deities had created as a refuge for humans had become their curse.

The bard raised his hand and made a subtle gesture with it. Golden sparks of illusion danced in the air, forming images of destruction.

- The first to fall were the cities. Temples erected to the glory of the Deities collapsed under the weight of demons who plundered them with blasphemous amusement. Magnificent palaces, former symbols of human power, were turned to dust. Rivers poisoned with the essence of chaos flowed black, and the sky was obscured by poisonous clouds for decades.

He paused for a moment, sweeping his gaze over the faces of those gathered.

- Yet death was not the worst of it.

Several people in the crowd swallowed saliva.

- Demons were playing with people. They crept into their thoughts, whispering words that stabbed into the soul like poisoned blades. They took the forms of loved ones to drive those who still remembered them mad. And the monsters... - the bard suspended his voice and let the golden sparks in the air form the silhouettes of beasts with burning eyes and maws full of fangs - ...hunted not for hunger, but for pure pleasure.

Some listeners twitched involuntarily.

- People cried out to the Deities. They offered sacrifices, begged for rescue. But the heavens were shaken only by silence. The Deities proudly refused to intervene. They were angered. The people had brought this fate upon themselves, and the Deities decided to let them suffer the consequences.

In the crowd, someone silently cursed.

- Decades passed in pain and darkness. Generations were born and died, knowing only fear. Then, among the Deities, disputes began. One of the Goddesses could no longer watch the suffering of her beloved people.

Golden sparks in the air formed the figure of a woman with spread wings and eyes full of radiance. And although it was only the Bard's own idea of what the Goddess might have looked like, the crowd sighed in awe.

- The Goddess of Mercy.

The Bard spoke more quietly now, but his voice carried just as clearly.

- She defied the will of her brothers and sisters. She knew that if she did nothing, people would die. And she... she loved them too much to let that happen.

The illusion flashed with blinding light.

- She filled the Arcanum with all her power. Its essence spread over the ground like a wave of divine light, burning away traces of demonic presence. The demons, who had felt themselves masters here, suddenly became powerless. Their power was broken. The monsters, who had previously known no fear, wailed in panic.

Golden sparks showed a swirling mist that engulfed the shapes of darkness.

- The goddess created a prison. In the heart of the Arcanum, she created a place where time and space ceased to exist. The dense, infinite mists enclosed demonic beings, imprisoning them for eternity.

The bard took a breath and lowered his gaze.

- But the prison could not remain without a guard.

In the crowd, someone quietly wheezed.

- The Goddess knew that if her power disappeared, the Black Mists that imprisoned monsters and demons could dissipate. And if that happened, the Dark Ages would return. So she made her decision.

The golden sparks danced once more, forming the image of a female silhouette entering the abyss of the Black Mists.

- She entered the Mists. She locked herself in them along with the monsters that had plagued this world for so long. She became a prisoner of her own prison, a guard who will never know freedom.

The illusion disappeared. Dead silence filled the square. The crowd held its breath without even daring to breathe too loudly.

The bard lowered his head, as if weighing his next words, letting the silence tighten between those gathered like a string. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost full of regret.

- The deities looked down from on high, seeing the sacrifice of their sister. They saw how she locked herself in the Mists, how she endured eternity alone in the darkness. And though they were all-powerful, though their powers created and destroyed worlds, they could do nothing to free her.

Golden sparks danced in the air, showing the silhouettes of the Deities gazing at the ground, and around them the Black Mist impenetrable and eternal.

- Time passed. Dozens, then hundreds of years passed. The people to whom the Goddess gave her freedom rebuilt homes, cities, kingdoms. They forgot the terror of the Dark Times and began to believe that demons and monsters would never return.

The bard paused for a moment to look into the faces of the listeners. There was tension painted in their eyes, uncertainty. They knew that the story was not over yet.

- But the Mists... The Black Mists that formed the boundaries of the prison and kept the demons inside began to weaken.

Golden sparks flared, forming into rippling vapors that fanned out more and more.

- At first, people staying close to the Mists saw only shadows gliding among them, heard faint whispers carried on the wind. But in time...

The illusion showed a demonic paw making its way slowly, trembling, through the Mists.

- ...The first monsters and demons began to emerge.

In the crowd, someone cursed under his breath, someone else put his arm more firmly around his child.

- The deities trembled, seeing that the foggy walls of the prison that were supposed to imprison monsters for eternity no longer held the terrors trapped inside. They knew that this could not be a coincidence. Something had happened to the guardian of the Black Mists. Something terrible.

The bard lowered his voice, but in the ensuing silence he was still perfectly heard by everyone.

- Thanks to the fact that the mists had weakened, the Deities were able to look inside the prison their sister had created and guarded for the first time in so many decades.

The illusion of the Black Mists parted, revealing the silhouette of the Goddess - tall, majestic, still glowing with remnants of her former divine power. But something was wrong with her. The image rearranged by the Bard looked like a caricature.

- They found her.

The crowd held its breath.

- But she was no longer the same being who had once, in her graciousness, saved humanity from the horrors of the Dark Ages.

Golden sparks formed a terrifying vision: a figure, once magnificent, with hair like liquid light, now twisted, trembling, with wings that no longer shone, but were shrouded in shadow. The eyes, formerly full of tenderness, now glowed with emptiness and anger.

- For decades, demons and monsters, enraged by their imprisonment, could not destroy the prison. So they destroyed what they could reach and what was with them in the Black Mists: the guardhouse.

In the crowd, someone sobbed.

- It didn't happen right away. The goddess had too much power for them to annihilate her. So they did something worse. Slowly, with cruelty and whispers that poisoned her thoughts, they began to crush her will. With tortures that even the Deities could not imagine they destroyed the merciful Goddess piece by piece. With suffering so long that it tore her soul they changed her completely. For years the Goddess resisted their cruel and mind-poisoning influences.

The illusion showed how the mists pulsed, how inside them something trembled, fighting with each other.

- Until finally... it stopped fighting.

The bard closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if he himself needed to gather strength to speak the next words.

- The Goddess of Mercy, beloved sister of the Deities, savior of mankind... was transformed by the demons into a monster more terrible than anyone could have imagined.

Golden sparks erupted in darkness.

- And it was she... it was she who weakened the Black Mists, of which she was supposed to be the guardian. And it was she who the Deities of Creation found.

The silence that fell in the square was so profound that for a moment it seemed as if the world held its breath.

The bard raised his head, and his gaze traveled above the crowd, as if gazing into the distant past, the echoes of which still vibrated in the air.

- The former Goddess did not recognize her sisters and brothers. As soon as she saw them, she did not fall into their arms, did not weep for joy after centuries of separation. She didn't. She looked at them, and in her eyes there was no trace of the love she once had for them. Only emptiness and anger were there.

The illusion came to life again, showing the silhouette of the Goddess, whose radiance was completely swallowed up by the darkness. Her face twisted with anger and marked with numerous scars.

- When her mouth opened, no words of love flowed from it... but an order.

Monsters and demons emerged from the mists that surrounded them, hundreds, thousands of them, as if they had been waiting all these centuries for this one moment.

- She was no longer the one they remembered. She was now their Queen. All these years she had absorbed their essence, drawn on their power, until she became stronger than any of the Deities. She was no longer the guardian of the prison. She became its ruler.

Golden sparks flashed, revealing the image of two sides ready for battle: the Deities, shining in the radiance of their power, and the Queen of the Black Mists, whose abyssal gaze seemed to absorb all light.

- A war broke out.

In the crowd, someone held his breath.

- If the Deities lost it, Arcanum would forevermore become a realm of demons. A world where there would no longer be a day when humans would become mere prey for the infernal beasts. Knowing this, they fought until they were out of breath.

The illusion showed the illuminated silhouettes of the Deities striking their enemies with their power, and the darkness engulfing the light in response.

- But the forces were evenly matched.

The bard lowered his voice, and the magic dancing around his staff trembled.

- The Queen of the Black Mists had on her side not only the demonic powers she herself had acquired by living in confinement for so many years, but also her subjects: monsters and demons who also wielded magic. Her army was almost infinite, her power - striking.

Golden sparks created the image of a raging battle.

- The deities fought with all their might, but they were focused on the battle... and therefore did not notice what was happening outside the battlefield. Meanwhile, more and more shadows emerged from the Mists, sneaking between the combatants.

- Monsters and demons that should have remained trapped began to slip away.

The crowd moved restlessly.

- More and more, like a wave, like a plague. Humanity was once again under threat.

The bard fell silent for a moment, letting his words ring out in the silence.

- Fear once again gripped the lands of Arcanum. Many whispered that another Dark Times was coming. That this time... there would be no one to save them.

The bard raised his staff and tapped it against the platform. Magic sparked in the air, and an illusion flashed over the crowd - an image of a battle so great that the very earth trembled under its weight.

- The time for the final battle had arrived. The deities knew that if they did not win it, Arcanum would be lost. They fought to their limits, throwing all their power at the Queen of Monsters, but she... was stronger.

Sparks formed into the form of a woman who was closer to looking like a demon than a Goddess, with eyes blazing with darkness, whose magic ripped the air to shreds.

- Their sister, once full of love and tenderness, now became an unstoppable force.

The bard lowered his voice, and his words carried across the square like an echo of impending disaster.

- Overall, she was the more powerful one.

Sparks showed the Deities falling to their knees, their light dimmed by shadows.

- When the Queen of the Black Mists raised her hand, ready to strike the final blow, ready to annihilate her brothers and sisters, the world froze.

The crowd held its breath.

- And then...

Sparks swirled.

- ...something inside her twitched.

The illusion showed her demonic face - twisted with anger, but there was something else in her eyes.

- For a split second, she hesitated. She remembered who she used to be. She was not a ruler of demons, the personification of darkness.

The bard leaned forward slightly.

- She was a sister.

Golden sparks glimmered as if they were fighting each other, reflecting the chaos that engulfed her mind.

The listeners could almost see it - her hand raised to strike a blow, the magic dancing on her fingers, the tremor that ran through her body.

- She could not destroy them.

The bard raised his head, and a shadow of sadness shone in his eyes. The man moved his hand over the ornate stick, and golden sparks danced in the air again, forming an image of a still scene - the Queen of monsters and the Deities facing each other, suspended between battle and something that might have been hope.

- The Deities knew this was their only chance. They had to attack before the Queen's hesitation would pass. They threw themselves at her with all their might... but when they looked into her eyes, they saw their sister there.

His voice quieted, but the tension in the crowd increased.

- And they were unable to destroy her.

The magic showed the Deities stopping in mid-step, their hands still glowing with power, ready to strike a blow that never fell.

- They couldn't do it. Not after they had mourned her loss for so many centuries. Not after she herself sacrificed herself to save Arcanum and humanity.

The bard raised his stick and tapped it against the platform, and the illusion changed, showing an image of a deal to save the world.

- Instead, they offered her a deal. They could not release her, nor could they allow her to return to them as a Deity. What had been done to her could not be undone. They also knew that even that last spark of consciousness would one day fade from her eyes. However, they didn't get to annihilate their sister. Instead, they gave her something else - a kingdom.

The sparks flickered, arranging themselves into a map of Arcanum.

- They enlarged the boundaries of the Black Mists, expanding the prison she herself had created and creating a demon kingdom in its place. From now on it was to be her home. They made a deal as a result of which the woman was to make sure that no monsters and demons could leave her domain, the boundaries of which were further defined by the Black Mists.

There were stirred whispers in the crowd.

- Thus ended the war.

The Black Mists became a country ruled by the Queen of Monsters.

The bard raised his gaze, and his gaze rested on his listeners, as if he wanted them to remember his next words.

- But even in exchange for land, the former Goddess did not want to perform this service for free.

Sparks swirled, forming a dark throne hidden in a thick fog.

- The Demon Queen demanded a price.

The silence that fell was almost palpable.

The bard raised his hand, and the magical illusion above the square dimmed, as if the world itself held its breath before the next chapter of the story.

- The deities decided to guarantee the Queen her demands," he continued, and a note of unease echoed in his voice. - But they were not to be the ones to pay the price.

The crowd froze.

- It was the people who brought the demons to the Arcanum. They were the ones to blame for its downfall. And since they were at fault.... they were the ones who had to suffer the consequences.

The illusion showed the outlines of the Queen shrouded in shadow, seated on a throne of black stone, and the reclining silhouettes of five kings in front of her.

A deafening silence fell for a long moment.

- What price did she demand? - rang out from the crowd the youthful, frightened yet curious voice of a listener.

The bard squinted his eyes and lowered his voice so that the people in the crowd had to strain their hearing.

- This is what no one knows.... Except the royal families.

Silence stretched over the square, carrying the weight of a secret that was never revealed to mere mortals.

- However, the sacrifice of the Goddess was not in vain," the Bard added after a while. - The Deities, seeing how much mankind suffered and how much their sister gave up in the name of love for people decided to forgive us for our mistakes.

The illusion changed, showing the five kingdoms in the sunshine, cities erected, fields full of crops, people smiling at each other again.

- And although the Queen of Monsters still watches over the Black Mists, and her price is still being paid, Arcanum has been born again.

The bard smiled slightly and looked at those gathered.

- The deities have not only forgiven humanity," he said forcefully. - They also decided to give it a gift.

The bard raised his hand, and golden sparks danced over the square, creating an image of divine power flowing down like a blessing from heaven. His voice carried loudly, carrying the last words of the story:

- Once every ten years, on the day we celebrate today as the Feast of Rebirth, the Deities send us their power.

Silent sighs rang through the crowd as golden light began to swirl over their heads, imitating divine blessings.

- Their magic spread throughout the world, healing the sick, cleansing the earth and energizing nature.

Sparks fell, forming an image of blooming meadows, reviving forests and people whose wounds were healed by the divine touch.

- In addition, the Deities sent crumbs of their power to the Arcanum bestowing them on mankind, who thus gained magical abilities. These are gifts that remind us that although humanity has gone astray, it has not been abandoned.

The bard looked at those gathered, his eyes shining with the reflection of his own story.

The bard smiled softly, and his gaze pierced the gathered people:

- So let us celebrate today with gratitude, remembering both the mistakes of the past and the hope that the Deities still bring us.

The crowd exploded in cheers, and the story, though finished, still resonated in the hearts of those gathered for a long time.