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The tale of love is as old as time, two becomes one in this rhyme. This tale is about romance and tragedy, on how one became none became a memory.
I call to thee, gods of the past, aid me in this heavy task, to tell a story long forgotten, of love and madness, one in mayhem. And as words come to me, let me tell this tale to thee, dear soul who reads this scripture, be this story a good lecture, that do not bite what you can't chew.
This happened in an old time when gods and mortals lived side by side. The gods had incredible powers, ones the mortals sought to aquire. They built temples for the gods, buildings grand, and gorgeous. Priests and priestess served the divine, every word of doctrine was just like vine, addicting and chaining.
There was a temple, dedicated to madness, giving home to a priestess whose devotion could not be compared with anything the world offered. Her name was Eeria, from the house Antilsa. A family that was blessed with power, addicting thing it is, to devour. Rumours had it that they were bad, not respecting the gods was why they went mad.
The price of the family was a daughter, sent to serve and spread the ghospel. The threat of madness awokened fear, and every night, the priestess would kneel, praying to a goddes to spare those who asked, never wanting more, or less.
But heavy secret lies within her, confessed with every prayer. Her devotion came not from fear but from love that she feels. She saw the goddes of maddes only one time, but it was enough for her soul to ignite in love, a feeling she never thought she had.
"My goddes," She prayed every day. "I am your most devoted, your fated priestess. I ask for you to come and let me see you again, another time. My love for you burns me greatly, I can only think of you daily and nighly." Her prayers went unanswered, sweet words fell on deaf ears, as mortal days and years passed in a blink.
In the fifth year of the priestess' service, after a great sacrifice, light came and covered the temple, blinding those present on the sermon. The light was bright, white, and cold, and when it went out, there stood a woman of goddly origin. Her skin was a light grey, hair black as night, eyes dark yellow. She had a blood red dress with golden accents, golden jewelry adorned fragile limbs. She was beautiful, and the priestess couldn't help but smile at the sight, all present lowering their heads, as looking into those yellow eyes would drive one mad.
"I have come to visit my most devoted, and grant all of you a blessing for this sacrifice today." She spoke, and her voice was sickeningly sweet, having that undertone only the maddened carried. "I have blessed people of each of your families, yet you pray to withdraw it." She sounded sad, but it was nothing more than mockery.
"My dearest goddes!" Said the priestess, lips open slightly, eyes shining with love for the Queen of all that is crazy and twisted. "Please do not fuel the anger in you, as commonfolk are scared of your gifts! This is not the era that can truly apreciate the beauty in madness." Agreeings murmured by the gathered ones, but the yellow eyes were only on her, just as the mortal girl wanted. She wanted those mesmerizing, maddening eyes to be on her and her alone, to devour all she was. This love was sickeningly sweet, addicting.
"I see. Then I shall lift my blessing from the ungrateful." She spoke, her words held nothing but disappointment.
When the sermon was over, the goddes stayed with her most devoted, who spoke of her time in the temple with excitement, and served the goddess food and wine from the sacrifice meant for her. And the divine listened to mortal words, found herself amused by the gestures, and found herself asking for more.
Immortals always get what they want, saying no to them, you shan't. The Madness wanted her priestess, and she got what she wanted. Their love was one not of joy, but of a goddes and her toy. Eeria was none the wise, and that would be her true demise. But for now, let her be, her story should be warning thee. That who loves an immortal, shall die, painfull and immoral.
Years have passed in pure bliss, the priestess had no one to miss, as her goddes was beside her, answering every prayer.
"My goddes," She often prayed, "My love for you is infinite, my devotion is the greatest. Your beauty is maddening me." And the queen of all that's crazed would smile.
"Priestess, your devotion is addicting, your personality awakens my quriosity." She says, caressing soft cheecks while they spend the night together in the temple. It always makes the priestess giggle, soft skin blooming red from the blood that runs in her veins. Their love is something extraordinary, something that will last forever...
Or so she thought.
Hear the tale, thee souls of future and past, of how a love was killed at last. Because nothing great comes from loving gods who seek amusement, finding joy in every suffering movement.
Because the god of lust was in the temple, craddling the goddes of maddes, so gentle...
The priestess witnessed, as her queen was kissed, and her heart shattered, when the gesture truly mattered.
Her queen was never hers.
Madness is truly, a great mistery. It's cruel, feeling that duel, for the mind and heart, to what one should feel.
The sadness and love that the priestess felt, bothered her. Daily and nightly, it drained her greatly. The goddes still acted, tender touches and lustful comments, but it fell on a cold heart and deaf ears.
Oh, how one fell, an empty shell, driven to madness by a selfish goddess.
It started hurting her, seeing the goddes doing so well. She started skipping meals, obsessing over prays, serving and serving.... Killing. She killed people, madness clouding her mind. Her queen's blessing.
Except her queen would never bless her, madness came to her after love was present, the obsession of her left her broken and crazed. She was less than herself, less than human, less than her queen, and it driven her deeper into the madness. Her goddes noticed, satisfied with the devotion and love she received. For her, mortals were nothing but playthings.
...
To tell this story in all its glory, my tongue is not enough, words in my throat getting caught. Because this is the part that pains my heart.
Because every madness will end in death. And the priestess' fate is no different at that.
One day, the goddes received no prayer. No sickening smell of burning animal, nor addicting smell of wine... Nothing at all.
So she decided to check in with the temple, home of her most loyal follower. What she found was closed doors, behind that bloodied floors. On the altar, a moveless body, pale and pretty in all its glory. Her priestess' last sacrifice, was her own madness-driven suicide.
Heed the tale, soul of future, do not fall for immortal structure. Because love leads to madness, madness leads to suffering, endless, and that leads to death.