Duchess of Illness, Mother of the Heartbroken

Written by Bagel

I still remember that day. The day the titan fell from a child’s hands, when a god slipped through the cracks of time, and the day we had risen to the highest peak of life on the island. Adorned after the murder of the divine, our bodies shifting and molding into beings of power. Havoc, Hunger, Might, Death, and I, Blight. The fragments of the apocalypse, and the ones who would bring the end of times if we did not adapt. We must prove our power, or crumble in the wake of the other’s wrath. We were simple-minded mortals, forced to evolve rapidly to the divine veins of our bodies.

I understood this, and soon I had created a land of safety and venom. A crusade of poison flooded through the mountains of the south, infecting all in its wake. It was cruel, but required in my eyes. Village after village, I would wander, telling the chiefs and mayors that I had a cure to this unknown illness. If they were to follow my guidance as god, they would be free of illness for the rest of their lives. Those who denied had days to live, but some seemed content with my warnings of death. That strange bird I still think of often, his smile as my plague consumed his heart. I pray that the Above treats his soul with mercy. His living life lacked such a thing.

Soon, thousands followed my words, connecting to my swarm of sorrowful beings. As we marched, I saw their smiles grow more and more within my care. They were calm, even happy, being with their villages, meeting new people, speaking with their new lord. I’ve never seen mortals smile as grandly as these, not since my own home.

Months passed, then soon years. There were rough patches in our travels. Many died, but many more bowed to my words. We never let a man die alone. When we knew one would die, we would stop for the day and spend the hours beside them. They would speak with family and friends, then I would grant them a painless death. I held many hands, feeling their life leave their warm bodies, the freezing touch growing limp in my palm as the plague consumed them once more. Yet still they smiled. We would grieve. We would pray. We would continue to march.

The mountains reached our eyes, the silver peaks of the maw welcoming us with the morning sun. I heard many cries of joy, thousands cheering in celebration. For the rest of that month, we celebrated, building small huts in the meantime as we honored the new age of gods. I offered for my siblings to join, but they were too busy keeping their cults in order. I never saw mine as a cult. We were not a following, but a family. They have lost as much as I, some losing more than any I could imagine, yet they trusted my words. I was not just a god in their eyes, but a mother. A guide to the unfortunate world we live in.

The next month, we built. Fueled by the prospects of our new land, they built faster than any construction team I have ever seen. Farms were built within the week, new homes erected by the day, and even the roads were finished by the month. All that was left was the temple, the sign of dominion. As our city expanded and our people grew, the temple slowly formed along the mountain. New caverns were carved as we searched for stone, quarries blending into the land as lakes and canyons, labyrinths of stone transforming into beautiful and lush caves. Even the world was being shaped by our glory. 

As they built all those years, I evolved the jungles around. What was once a rotting world due to my plague transformed into beautiful marshes and jungles of blues, greens, and reds. Flowers and roses decorated the canopies and brush, with crystal streams and plants decorating the ground. With the help of my brother’s knowledge, I managed to infest the once passive plants. Venom filled their bodies, and their cries rang through the veiny jungle. My form of this plant magic was nowhere near the strength I desired, but the jungles now evolved to keep the average man out of my lands. My people would be safe.