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Gifts of the Gods: The Angel | Book 1 (DSMP/OriginsSMP AU)

Summary:

Long ago, the first gods decided to grant gifts to the people of the land. From super strength, teleportation to the gift of future sight, certain people were given gifts at birth. As time went on, gifts became more and more common, some hereditary, others seemed to appear out of thin air. As time went on, certain people began to be reincarnated as new gods, and were worshiped by the people of the land.
The brother of one such god, craved the immortality his sister possessed. And so began his journey for a tomb of sacred powers. But along the way, the man lost his humanity.
Now in present day, a group of rebels has broken free from their kingdom and started a war. Now the continent is divided, and a new prophecy has awoken. One, that could mean the downfall of the gods.

Chapter 1: Prolouge - A Bird without Flight

Chapter Text

The sun was high in the sky over the battlefield, the normally plentiful lawn of flowers awake with the wind and the humble drone of insects was eerily still. The only thing living in sight for miles were six circling crows. The corpses of fallen soldiers littered the once gorgeous fields that were on the outer borderlands of the D'abord-Père Kingdom, reaching up to the forest beyond, the free territory to the north, where few dared to venture for fear of the creatures from the ruins of the old kingdom that lurked in the shadows of the trees. Many stories told of eldritch beings snatching up troves of travellers that got lost in the woods looking for safety. Which was exactly why it was the perfect place for rebellions to spawn and grow.

“We’ll be home soon my darling…” The figure cloaked in black and lace stumbled across the battlefield, tips of her cloak drenched in the blood of fallen soldiers below her aching feet. “Just a little further, then we’ll be safe, at home… with your father… we’ll make it home soon…” The little bundle in her arms cooed in response. The child couldn’t be more than a month old, blonde hair and pale white wings protruding from the back of his tight swaddle.

“Theseus… my angel…” The woman smiled, holding her son close to her chest, so as not to let him see the heaps of bodies that lay across the plains, stretching towards the dark forest in the distance that she knew her husband was waiting inside, their lovely cottage nestled in a clearing just beyond the river. A perfect place for her little Theseus to grow up.

The mother glanced around, seeing faded grey ghosts of the people who lay mangled and bloody beneath her feet, grieving the loss of a battle, or the family they could never return to. She recognized the small form of a young soldier, no older than 15, mid length brown hair stuck to her pale face with tears. The mother’s eyes watered, feeling empathy for the lost soul, knowing that she could help them return to their homes if they needed.

There was no time for that, however.

She had to keep moving.

She knew he was going to find them if they weren’t concealed by the forest, she knew that once they were within the forest, they’d be free.

The small murder of crows circled overhead, before flying back into the woods. Her husband would know she was home within a matter of minutes, he’d be there to help bring Theseus to safety.

As the mother reached the end of the battlefield, another cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows, tall and shrouded in a dark green. The figure drew his sword, pointing it at the mother, before whispering in his smooth and cold voice.

“Found you.” The woman made a dash for the trees, stumbling over the bodies that lay underfoot. But the figure was quicker, seeming to appear in her path with every turn and dash her exhausted feet took.

“Leave my son alone!” She cried, glaring at the figure who had appeared once again in her path. The woman clung her son to her chest, a protective hand resting over the back of the boy’s head, blonde curls a mess beneath her delicate fingertips.

“Oh I will. I can't, however, say the same for you.” As the man spoke, his sword flashed in the sun, and after a second, the woman found herself coughing up blood, her stomach impaled by the blade of the black sword. “No more mother of death. No more prophecy.” The figure lowered his hood with a smile.

“You- can’t-” She coughed and sputtered, her grip on her son growing weak. With the last of her strength, she removed the dagger she had kept in her sleeve and swiped it across the face of her attacker, who stumbled back, throwing his hands over his face. “L’Manburg… will… rise…”

The silence that followed was only punctuated by the sound of her body hitting the floor, arms wrapped desperately around her son. After a moment the man heard rustling, the distant cawing of crows, and with a sweep of his cloak, he was gone.

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A figure with pale white hair stepped out of the forest where the rustling had come from. Her curls were separated by curving horns, spiralling from the sides of her head above her ear. After a moment she saw the body draped in black, startlingly different from the soldiers in blue and red that covered the landscape behind the body of the woman. The hat she was wearing was tilted so the vail covered the expression on her face, and the little white bundle of a baby boy pressed to her chest was the only thing that gave life to the scene that unfolded before her.

The white-haired woman knelt down and picked up the child, smiling softly. “Hello, little one…” The child fussed in her arms, squirming to glance back at the corpse of his deceased mother. They had the same round face and mole on their cheeks, if anything else was similar between the two it wasn’t very visible, as the boy had pale blonde hair and his mother’s hair was as dark as night. “I’m sorry you lost your mommy little one, but I can take care of you… you can be my son, and you have a brother who’s just a little older than you! I’ll keep you safe…”

The woman glanced at the blanket the boy was swaddled in, the only indication of his name was the golden embroidered T on the exposed corner of the pale swaddle.

“Tommy. I’ll call you Tommy…”

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“Theseus?” A voice called. “My Love? Where are you two?”

The man with wings like a crow dashed through the forest in front of his home. His family should have been back by now, his scouts saw them nearing the forest almost an hour ago, they should have been home.

As he leapt from rock to rock across the river that curved in front of the house he and his wife called home, his long blonde braid sprang in the air, hitting his mangled right wing. It still hadn’t healed from the battle that had taken place about a month ago, while he was fighting he knew his wife was safe in the Kinoko kingdom, giving birth to their son.

“Theseus!” The man called again, darting through the woods, now on the opposite side of the river, headed towards the battlefield that was so close by. The longer parts of his shawl kept getting snagged in bushes and low-hanging branches as he weaved in between them, and he could feel the plumage on his wings parting in places as twigs scraped towards the flesh hidden beneath the carpet of dark feathers. Phil was nearing the battlefield now, he was so close.

So where was his wife?

“Kristin!” He cried, dodging an evergreen that had fallen in his path.

And that’s when he broke through the line of trees and was able to see the battlefield once more.

At first, it looked the same as it had for the past several days, bodies of fallen soldiers scattered around like stars in the sky. A hopeless and broken night full of lost souls.

And if the bodies of his fallen friends and foes were stars, then she was the moon, draped in black and drenched in her own blood, no child to be seen.

An anguished sob echoed through the trees.

Kristen was gone.

And so was his son.