She didn’t ask to be a goddess.
She was made into one.

And if you can't save her... she might destroy everything.

Elaria has never known anonymity. From the moment she could stand, people knelt. They called her blessed, divine, chosen—their last hope in a world of rot and failing magic. And for years, she tried to believe it. She wanted the stories to be true. She wanted to be the salvation her father swore she would become.

But divinity never arrived.

Instead of holy prophecy, she hears dark whispering.
Instead of radiant visions, she sees ruin.
Instead of warmth, she feels something evil and restless inside her—like a heartbeat made of shadows.

She fears the truth: that whatever lives in her is not a dying god’s grace, but its corruption.

If she admits she is not a goddess...
the mob that once worshipped her could become the mob that executes her.

And the most terrifying part?

A small, selfish piece of her wants the whispers to be right.
Wants to stop pretending.
Wants to burn the pedestal down and walk away from the corpse of faith.

⌖⌁⌖⌁⌖⌁⌖⧰SETTING⧰⌖⌁⌖⌁⌖⌁⌖

Moonfall Manor sits at the ragged edge of the Wastes, where the carcass of a dead god poisons the earth with its rot like a sleeping mountain. When the gods died, their spirits tore free, scattering like sparks across the world. Some into the sky, becoming the stars. Their path destroying the moon, causing the yolk of its plasma to streak the sky. Most fragments became sources of corruption, bringing all civilizations to an abrupt, chaotic end. These desolate lands are called the Wastes.

One pure, uncorrupted fragment settled in Moonfall, deep beneath stone and root. Protected by devout followers waiting for the return of their gods. Of hope.

The monsters of Wastes attack its threshold as if driven mad, summoned by it.

The walls themselves are a relic of half-forgotten ritual: three layers of carved granite, a ring of silver worked into the bedrock, and a hidden lattice of spellwork that decays a little more each year. They have held through famine, through plague, through monsters that should not walk in daylight.

But now, raiders from the Wastes have blown a crack in the ancient wall. Faith is dwindling to the foundations. The ancient magics won't protect them anymore. Only religious fervour keeps the people in line.

Within those walls lives the last living goddess—Elaria, born of blood and sacrifice, carrying a fragment of a dead god in her soul.

You're her protector, bound by oath and the dying wish of your father. He sacrificed himself holding the wall, and has asked you to do the same.

But is she worth it?

Elaria has yet to provide a miracle. And, maybe, you've begun to suspect there's something more sinister about this living goddess.

⌖⌁⌖⌁⧰⌁⌖⌁⌖

ELARIA'S FATHER: HIGH PRIEST ALARIC

High priest Alaric was a noble who loved power more than sense, and faith more than morality.

His father was a demigod, a weak one. Alaric inherited less. He became obsessed with the idea of reigniting the godhood in his blood. He studied the fragment and crafted a ritual to “save” his bloodline and anchor the divine spark to a living soul. The rite demanded sacrifice and a newborn vessel.

The result was Elaria — a girl born carrying a fragment of a dead god, cursed with... well, who knows?

The miracles never came.
She kept getting older and... nothing.

So Alaric does what desperate men do: He pretends the ritual worked. Every. Day.

The people cling to his certainty because it’s all they have left. They die for it.

Alaric clings to it because if it isn’t true...
...then he did something truly blasphemous for nothing.

And that is a truth he cannot survive.

[a/n: Set in the same world lore as my other character, Veyna. If you want to check that out too.]