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OpheliaOrginally Written: April 2019
Remastered: August 2020
The shadowy, corrupted form resembling her own father made no motion to reply.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “Oh, Father….” She leveled Missiletainn, the sensation of its magic tickling its way up her forearm uncomfortably familiar. “You know, you told me once that heroes never die. But now… I see that was a lie.”
Tears filled the blonde girl’s eyes. “Heroes don't become as such until after they die, Father. It is only after they pass into legend that they gain their full heroic stature…”
“I know that becoming a great hero, a legend in your own right, has always been your dream. And… I must sincerely apologize to you, because you will not- can not- become that hero yet.” The tears dripped out, trailing their way down her once courageous face. “I won't let that beautiful lie be the last thing you ever tell me.”
Her tome lit up, the pages glowing with power. “And though we might clash now, forgive me, as it pains me to do so.” She sniffed.
“Alright...” Ophelia gulped and steadied her feet. A breeze drifted slowly across the wasteland, chilling her exposed legs. Powerful magic swirled around her fingertips, which she drew up in front of her. Holding back tears, she steeled herself for what she was about to do.
“Hark, O shade! I, Ophelia Dusk release you from the chains of the abyss! My spirit quivers anxiously to meet my father in single combat… By the name and magic given to me, I cast out the darkness from this place!”
“I cast the darkness from you, Father!”