[STORY] Neamhain

The Story of Neamhain: The Reflection Resisting Fate

"Why do we exist?"

It was the first question, the first desire. Countless reflections flowed through space and time into the red sea... and the goddess here was drowning in an endless agony.

Her heart became as tainted as the waters, in this sea that she considered her cradle. A tear ran down her cheek, and despite being alone, she could not hide her embarrassment at the display of emotion. She was supposed to be past such things, now. The recent encounter with her forgotten self had filled her with hatred and hostility, which only served to drive her into a deeper confusion.

"This is not me. Then who...?"

She was overcome and writhed in agony, almost collapsing into the churning waters. She could not hold back the urge to vomit. She forced herself to reject thoughts, memories, feelings... They were only getting the way of the task she was divinely ordained to perform. These were, in turn, quietly swallowed by the waves all around her.

The goddess finally stood tall, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and appearing far more composed. She raised a quizzical eyebrow, unsure of what she had been doing just moments before. Yet the details mattered not, for she had work to do.

Neamhain smiled, extending her metallic wings as she rose from the red waters and into the pitch-black skies.

Yet memories and morals cannot be so easily swept aside.

So it was that the Sea of Reflection echoed her sentiments, asking that discarded reflection of humanity...

"Why do we exist?"

It spoke to a humble memory from a more innocent time, another Neamhain before she was ever elevated to godhood. This version also did not know why she existed, so when asked, she flowed toward the coastline, as if in a dream.

To seek the answer to that question.

"Maybe... the goddess has abandoned us..."

"On the shore of Neimheadh, a young boy thought of his sister. It was supposed to be both of them, together, standing here. It was supposed to be fearful but exciting. Instead, all he had was regret and a tough task meant for two.

Steadying himself with a deep breath, he looked around as discreetly as he could. No one seemed to be around, but one could never be too careful here. Deciding that it was now or never, the boy reached down to remove something hidden in the sand: a rope, leading out into the sea. He began hauling it in as quickly as he could, eventually revealing a small, submerged boat. Cold moonlight appeared to be the only witness to this act, which was fortunate... If anyone else saw what he was up to, it would surely mean his death."

That was because this child was a Nemedian, the lowest caste in Neimheadh. Though serving the same god that all the Fomors did, he was practically treated as slave labor, and this night could be his only chance at ever escaping that life. Thoughts of his sister first slowed, then hastened his movements. Hiding in other, human lands was her idea, and it was now his only chance.

"He had finally hauled in enough of the skiff to set off when he suddenly froze. Against the darkness, an even darker figure rose from the waves and approached him.

He