0.5.1

The winter months were always the worst for you. Ever since your family was split apart by war, you'd been forced to live with your drunkard mother in the slums. You were barely 7 when this happened, but you remember it vividly.

Around age 9 you started sneaking money from your mom. A few coins now and then, saving up. You wanted to buy a Communion, a chance to talk to any of the deities, to plead for a blessing or *something.*

At age 10, you were taken to the church by your mom. She was clearly hoping that you'd gain some kind of useful blessing. A type that often manifests as a marking on the body, allowing its user to wield magic and grow past human limits… if they won the metaphorical lottery.

By law, all children at age 10 are supposed to get examined for free at any Church of the Many. If they don't get one, a second examination can be bought at any time, but… it's rare for someone to not gain one.

The church was scary. Men and women wreathed in veils and long robes that hid all of their skin, and the statue depicting the pantheon's crown central to the structure had an overwhelming presence despite being just rock.

Your mom wasn't the kind woman you'd known her as before the war. Changed by her alcoholism and… other changes you hadn't spotted at the time but could in hindsight. She didn't comfort you when you were scared, she didn't try to calm you down. She wasn't hugging you or being a mom.

Her only goal here was to see if you had any monetary value; to see if you could be sold as a slave or used as child labor.

And… well, she got what she wished for. When the ritual was performed, a crimson light shone on your back, and a marking formed centered on your spine, spreading across your entire back. You were told it's a 'Stigmata Regalia', black feathered wings below a crimson crescent moon. It was supposedly a sign of royalty, a sign of someone who would become great in the future, its exact abilities unknown to the church and yourself at the time.

But, for you, it was a curse. A dreadful curse that saw you sold off to the church for petty change, a mere 100 coins. Enough to fuel your wretched mother's addiction for barely a week, and left her dying in a ditch somewhere you reckon. You never did try to visit her grave, or where she used to live; she didn't deserve such a kindness.

With the church, your life improved greatly, even though you despised them. You did a good job of hiding it though, just as you did the coins you got from your past home when you went with the church to gather your belongings: a worthless wooden necklace that was priceless to you.

The necklace, a small wooden trinket hanging off of some twine. It depicts a somewhat abstract raven; something your father had carved when you were 4. Something that you kept by your side at all times.

You were then taken to the main church; a cathedral in the upper walled section of the city. A spotless, and much scarier place for you. People who dared not converse with the dirty slum-dwelling rabble like you all around, yet you were being taken by the church. The nobles, the rich, and even the poor respected the church.

At the cathedral you were given new clothes, and taught a lot of things. Things that you picked up with ease; writing, reading, mathematics. You were told you're learning everything a noble would, despite being a commoner. The blessing you were granted allowed you such a privilege. You gained pocket money as well, though you couldn't go out to spend it. But you didn't want to spend it outside the church anyway.

On a dreary night just before your 13th birthday, you gathered all the coins in your room, placing them on a makeshift altar to the Many, and uttered a few words you'd learned from reading books. A sequence of words you've since forgotten, as they no longer served a purpose for you.

The altar lit up with a silver light, and the coins vanished one by one over the course of an agonizingly slow 15 seconds. The surroundings faded away, and you'd found yourself on an endless perfectly calm sea, standing atop the water like it was solid ground, yet your movements still caused ripples in the water.

“I will… commune with this child.” A voice said; one of the Many you thought, but you'd quickly come to learn that wasn't the case.

“Please, help me!” You pleaded. “I want to escape this fate! I want to become powerful, I want to reign over those that cause me suffering!” You spoke with emotion and willpower behind your words. Trying to draw power from the 'Stigmata Regalia' at the same time, no matter what the cost or result, just to seem worth it for this deity.

“Shush, child. I will give you what you desire, so do not fear.” A form materializes in front of you; four wounded raven-like wings, with a pair each from their back and hips. A form alien to you for a few moments, but quickly taking the shape of a woman. Her body is wreathed in layers of silks and ropes, hiding most of her form. But the fiery red eyes and the raven-black hair were visible, and most memorable to you. They matched your own, to an extent. And… the Regalia as well.

You gazed at her, and weren't sure what to say. Many thoughts went through your head at the time, the most memorable among which was that she can't be a goddess, she's injured.

Almost as if reading your thoughts she giggled softly. “I am not a goddess, no. I am, however, a deity. The Many refused to speak with you, but your request did not only call to the Many, but all of us. I decided to accept first before anyone else, you have… a power I wish you to use on me. Your blessing is unique, so you are unique. You must figure out how to activate that which you were granted by fate.”

Well, you can somehow tell she isn't lying; an innate feeling that you can't help but distrust at first. “How can I trust you?” You ask, somewhat shakily. It's not fear that's causing this though, it's something different. A desire for power, a desire to grasp what you can.

“You already felt it when I spoke. A sense for lies and deceit. Tell me, child, what do you see when you look at me?” She asks you.

Again that innate sense, but you can't be certain. “A-a woman wrapped in silks and rope, four wounded raven-like wings, black hair and fiery red eyes.” You try to describe her appearance.

She almost laughs. “Oho, how interesting… so a child can break my facade? You're stronger than I thought, to be able to see through me like that.” She closes her eyes for a moment. “I should appear as a simple wounded raven, not as a human. Trust your senses, you'll be able to know more than those around you wish you to.”

You can't help but believe her; she hasn't lied even once. That sense you have either is lying completely to you, or she's right, and you simply are… different. “W-what do you… want me to do to you?” You asked her.

You think she smiles under the silks preventing you from seeing her; it's clear that physical barriers still block your sight. “Devour me. Cannibalize my mind, body, and soul and free me from these wretched bindings.” She tries to move, but the ropes tighten around her body and lock her in place.