Jay Wilshire: The Tragedy of Niflhel

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I was born to be nothing more than a replacement. My sister saved my life, and I lived with her peacefully for three years before the peace was shattered by what would come to be called the tragedy of Niflhel.

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Prologue: A Mother Without Love

“Máni I beg you. Give me the power to protect this island as you do Jörd.” A pale white man appeared on the surface of the water before the woman that had sunk herself into the water’s dark icy depths in the middle of winter.

“Raise your head child.” The woman raised her head to look upon the pale white man. His eyes and hair were a pale silver like the light of the moon. “I will grant you the moon's power of protection if you accept my sister’s terms for the moon cannot shine without the sun.” A woman stepped out from behind the man. She had skin that had been kissed by the sun with bright golden hair that fell down in spirals down to her waist. She had golden eyes that shone as bright as the sun at midday.

“Many have come before you requesting the power of protection from the moon or the power of destructive fire from the sun, but none have ever been able to make it further than the water's edge before they were consumed.” The woman that was requesting the help of the gods lowered her head once more.

“Please. If giving my life is the price I have to pay, it’s a small insignificant price compared to the lives of everyone else living here on this island.” She looked up upon the gods once more with frozen tears on her cheeks.

The woman with golden hair and skin kissed by the sun leaned down and placed a kiss on the woman’s forehead. The man reached out and traced a crescent shape on the woman’s forehead with his index finger. A five-pointed star and crescent moon appeared on the woman’s forehead. She watched as the man and woman started to fade away, but not before imparting a warning.

“It is your very life that gives birth to the flame. If you cannot control the flames wild nature it will burn you. From ash you came for unto ash you shall return.” The voice of the fading woman was nothing more than a haunting whisper on the wind.

The woman that had sunken herself into the icy water stood up and walked to the water’s edge and stepped onto the shore. She quickly changed out of her thin wet garment and into her dry clothes. That woman was the first Wilshire, and her powers granted by the Gods were a curse passed from mother to daughter over many generations that spanned across time for just over a thousand years until the cycle was broken.

My mother was a Wilshire in name and name alone. She was not born with the curse, and for a while, the reason behind the anomaly that was my mother went undiscovered. Her memories that I possess are normally fuzzy and broken at the best of times, but there are a few memories that are very clear and clue me in on who the woman is that carries me in her womb.

“Why did you call me here this time?” My mother sat across from a woman that was similar to her in appearance but much older.

“The child you are currently carrying.” My mother sat up a bit straighter and focused all of her attention on the woman that was sitting across from her. “I’ll be the one to raise her.” The older woman was getting straight to the point with my mother.

My mother stood from where she was sitting and approached the older woman that was still sitting. She slapped the older woman across the face. The older woman didn’t stand to strike my mother in retaliation. She just heaved out a heavy sigh as if she were shouldering a great weight on her shoulders. Then my mother started to laugh causing the older woman to look up at my mother.

“You will do no such thing. Your demand to raise the child I’m carrying is all the proof I need. I can finally fulfill my end of the deal.” The older woman’s eyes widened. She stood much faster than what seemed to be possible.

“What have you done?” My mother turned away from the older woman.

“It’s not what I’ve done mother. It’s what I am going to do, and I’m not going to let you stop me.” The older woman reached out and grabbed my mother’s shoulder.

My mother pulled a knife as she turned to face the older woman once more. My mother stabbed the older woman who stood there shocked. The older woman looked down at the knife with wide eyes. She reached out with a shaky hand towards my mother’s stomach, and my mother took a step back to stay out of the older woman’s reach. The older woman took an unsteady step forward. The older woman fell forward, and her hand brushed over my mother’s stomach for the briefest of seconds.

The older woman landed on the floor with a thud, and blood started to pool around her body. Her breaths grew shallower with each inhale. The light was starting to fade from her eyes as my mother just stood there watching.

“I p-pray you n-never suff-” The older woman never got to finish her sentence. My mother turned and walked away from the older woman’s lifeless body.

As she stepped out of the room she had been in with the older woman, my mother passed by a child that was staring up at her with fear and resentment. A few months later my sister Malice was born during a rare thunderstorm. She entered the world with a crash of thunder and screaming at the top of her lungs.

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