Chapter 21: Pandora's Box
The events that took place before the burning of the Tree
Rosavolt
Months before Sina waged war on Rosavolt, Maru spoke with him.
"Rosavolt... how could you?" she asked. "You hoard food while the other three kingdoms starve."
"What would you have me do, Maru?" he replied. "My people look to me—they ask me questions I cannot answer. I brought them here with the aspiration that we would thrive. I promised them a better life, and now... now they stand at the edge of starvation."
He looked away, voice trembling.
"The Tree will not let them die," he continued. "An endless hunger, suffering we cannot even escape with death. And you ask me to be righteous? To share what little we have, and condemn my people to that hell?"
He fell to his knees. Tears flooded his face.
"I can't do that. We can't leave—Sina has made that impossible. So I will do what I must to keep my people safe. I will watch the other kingdoms fall and burn, if that means mine lives to see tomorrow. I carry this burden... as the king of my nation."
Maru sat silently for a long time before she finally spoke.
"I understand. As queen of my own nation, I know what a heavy burden this is. As they say—"
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown," Rosavolt finished for her.
When the Tree burned, Rosavolt watched from the kingdom walls—battered, bruised from war. All he could say as he fell to his knees was:
"I am a coward who has sent my kingdom to hell."
See, Rosavolt had sent his men to fight. But as the war neared its end, he ran—in a last-ditch effort—for Maru's kingdom, seeking aid, seeking shelter. They searched for him. But no one could find him.
The Tree burned.
No one can truly say what happened that day. Only those who were there can recount it. So instead, our story will focus on a man and a woman who loved each other very much.
On the Day of the Burning
The skies lit up red. Something happened.
Those who spilled blood were smited from the land—Or so it is said.
Maru stood on the ruins of a castle with Rosavolt beside her as they watched it burn.
"I am a coward who couldn't even protect his own people. You were right, Maru," he said weakly, pressing a wound on his stomach.
Then—it was as if the Tree itself vanished.
Something so colossal, just... gone.Erased from existence. Poof.
The skies went blue once more. Rosavolt passed out.
When he awoke, Maru was at his side. She smiled. He looked away—he couldn't face her.
"Why do you beat yourself up like this?" she asked. "You tried. In your selfishness, you became a villain—but only to protect what was yours. So again I ask: why do you punish yourself?"
"Is it because you lost?"
"No," he replied softly.
"Is it because you lost your riches?"
"No."
"Then is it—"
"It's because I'm still alive and they are not. It's because I gave everything up, and for what?"
He shook in pain as he stood.
"It's because I made my people slaughter others. Bathe in blood. While I cowardly stood behind my walls."
"You did what you thought—"
"No. It wasn't enough."
A month passed.
"I love how these flowers bloom," Maru said as they walked through a field. "How flowers bloom in general."
"They're beautiful for a handful of days before they wither and die."
"That's what makes them so beautiful."
She paused, eyes on the horizon.
"I think that's where we went wrong. We got drunk on the idea of living forever… we forgot what actually makes life beautiful."
"All those days in that valley, in that city, reminded me why I sought that place to begin with."
Rosavolt walked beside her, silent.
"As a kid, I was diagnosed with an illness. They told me I'd never live past fifteen. Yet twenty-six years later, I was still alive."
"Every day, I'd think: today is the last. Tomorrow, I'll wake up dead."
Rosavolt chuckled.
"Wake up dead?" he asked.
"Yes," she giggled. "Wake up dead."
"I remember—the air smelled so sweet every day I woke up. The colors of the world were so bright... so beautiful."
Her voice grew softer.
"Then one day, it got really bad. My body started giving out. I coughed blood."
"Look—" she pointed. "A butterfly."
One flew past them, radiant, sparkling red and blue in the light.
"Have you noticed? The ecosystem is changing. Everything is changing—the animals, the bugs, the flowers. It's... strange."
"You get distracted way too easily, Maru. Finish your damn stories for once," he said.
She laughed. "Maybe some other time. We've been gone too long as it is. Shall we return?"
"Fine," he said.
Maru and Rosavolt weren't the only ones.
Many emerged from the land after being scattered.
It was strange. The land was barren— All the structures built by the kingdoms were gone.
Now, all that remained was nature.
The biggest mystery was the disappearance of the Tree.
That, too, was gone.
Such a colossal thing... just vanished.
The ones who survived were simply civilians—
Families, children from the old kingdoms.
It was as if every sign of the past had been erased.
All that remained were the people. The innocent people.
And Rosavolt himself.
It happened slowly, but the people began to rebuild.
Soon, a primitive village took shape. They lived without the blessings of the Tree.
Progress was slow... but steady.
The white ash from the Burning was the only visual proof the Tree had ever existed. It just floated around—silent, aimless.
Then one day, everything changed.
A child was born.
Rosavolt woke before dawn, pale light slipping through the broken rafters of their makeshift cottage. Maru laid on the low bed, her breathing shallow—each breath a fragile triumph. He knelt beside her, gently brushing a stray lock of dark hair from her forehead.
"You spoke of flowers that day," he whispered, voice thick with pain. "How they bloom just long enough to be perfect, only to wither and die. You said that's what makes them beautiful."
Maru's eyelids fluttered. A faint smile formed on her lips.
"Yes," she rasped. "Life is fragile… that's the gift."
He frowned, grief and confusion were all he felt in his heart. "If something's beautiful because it does not last… Why does this hurt so much? If beauty lies in its end, why mourn the dying? Why fight for tomorrow?"
Her hand trembled as she reached for his. "Because," she breathed, "without hope of tomorrow, there is no joy in today."
Rosavolt closed his eyes. Since the burning , he had believed nothing matters anymore then they grew close — now all that matters was protecting her,protecting everyone. Yet now, watching her die, he wondered if he could even accomplish tnat.
"This is unfair," he said, voice breaking. "I will not accept it. Your beauty was there long before you grew ill—before you knew death. To hell with fate; I don't want you to die." Tears streamed down his face.
Maru's lips formed a soft, tired grin. "Remember," she whispered, "the only reason I lived this long was because of the Tree's blessing. I was always dying—this City of Life only just bought me time. And I'm grateful for every day it gave me."
Outside, commotion rippled through the village. Word spread that a child—the first born since the Burning—had entered the world. Villagers gathered in wonder around the hut. The infant laid swaddled a bed of hay, tiny fists clenched, eyes bright.
Then it happened: as the white ash drifting through the doorway settled around the cradle, it began to glow. White particels danced in the air, swirling around the newborn like sparks from a fire. None had seen such magic since the Tree's disappearance.
In that moment, Rosavolt understood—through the innocence of this child, the old world's magic had returned. And with it, hope.
He had to find a way. He needed to harness the power. Somehow—somehow—he had to make this power his, so he could save Maru.
That night, a festival was held for the newborn. Food and drink flowed. A celebration.
Then, a man—drunk—burst to the front of the crowd. He held a handful of ash in his cupped hands. "You fools!" he shouted. "You don't understand. This—this is the blessing! It hasn't left us!"
He reached toward the floating ash that still circled the child, eyes wild.
"We can be immortal once more! We can thrive! We can— we will—be great again!"
Grabbing at the glowing particles, he cried, "This is our salvation!"
Long ago, the blessing had granted the people of the old kingdom immortality. When the Tree died, so did that gift. Now they aged and died like everyone else. Sickness, once forgotten, returned—Maru was proof.
"So I say," the man shouted, raising his hands high, "if the blessing is still with us—let water burst from my palms!"
He held the glowing white ash as though it were sacred. Then, to everyone's shock, light radiated from his hands—and water exploded from his fingers in a gleaming arc. What was once dismissed as drunken madness became miraculous truth.
People screamed in awe, praised the moment, and danced in celebration. But it did not last.
The ash in the man's hands turned black.
Then it began to consume him. His hands darkened, shriveled, caught flame.
"What the hell is this?!" he screamed, stumbling backward, trying to beat the flames out against his robes. Panic ran through the crowd as his body ignited, engulfed in searing fire.
He collapsed, writhing, howling. Moments later, he was gone—nothing but a pile of white ash.
Silence fell over the village. Shock rooted everyone in place.
They didn't understand.
But Rosavolt did.
The ash had rejected the man.
The blessing belonged only to the new generation. The old world was condemned to die. The gift refused to bend to them again.
Rosavolt waited until night returned. The village still buzzed with whispers of the man who had turned to ash. People feared the blessing now—but Rosavolt didn't. He couldn't afford to. He needed to understand it. He needed to use it.
He returned to the place where the man had burned, crouching by the scorched earth. Blackened grass. The scent of smoke still in the air . Something caught his eye—ash mixed with something oily, like melted wax or marrow. It clung to the soil, alive with faint embers.
He knew the ash had turned on the man because he was from the old kingdom. So how was he going to gain the blessing without suffering the curse himself?
Rosavolt stared into the dark, his thoughts spiraling. The drunk man had been near the child when he made his wish. He'd grabbed the white ash that spiraled around the newborn—that was what had allowed him to make the wish.
The ash was everywhere, but it would not reciprocate its blessing to the people of the old kingdom.
Then a crazy idea flew into his head. One so insane it was laughable. One so preposterous there was no way it could possibly work. One so dumb, it was suicidal.
The next day, he walked into the animal pens. His hands shook as he scooped up a small goat, barely past its first winter. Its heart beat fast against his palm. He wrapped it in his cloak and carried it through the narrow paths to where the ashes still lingered.
He stood in the hut where the cradle of the newborn had once laid, and grabbed the ash.
He simply held the ash in one hand, the living creature in the other.
"W-w-water," he said. "Bring water. Please."
If he had a sacrifice—maybe the curse would be negated. Maybe it would pass into the animal instead of him.
It was a stupid assumption.
But he was ready to put it all on the line. For his people.
No—not for his people.
For Maru.
He was ready to do whatever it took.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then, light.
The ash flared white. Warm. Alive.
And from his palms, water burst forward, flowing like it had in the old days.
A miracle.
It worked. It worked.
He shut his eyes, ready to burst into flames—
But the goat screamed.
Its body jerked violently in his grip. Its eyes rolled. Then its fur began to blacken, its limbs contorting in pain. Heat radiated off its flesh as it let out one final cry—then crumbled.
Nothing left but bone-white ash in his arms.
Rosavolt stood frozen.
"Yes" he whispered. "Yes , yes, yes."
He dropped to his knees, staring at the ash-covered ground.
He had done it. He had cheated the system.
And laughed—his heart racing.
He now had hope.
A few dead animals later, he realized that the size of the sacrifice needed to equal the size of the request.
This didn't come at zero cost, though. He lost his arm in a close call.
Knowing this, he now needed to understand what it would take to grant immortality to this village once more. He needed to figure out what he would need to sacrifice to return the blessing again.
The village was small—no more than fifty people.
He swallowed. "Life for life," he said.
That's what it would take.
But before he could save the village he needed to save maru at all costs.
That night, he stood in front of the cradle, hands shaking. He gathered all the animals from the stables and harnessed them together.
"Cure my wife," he said.
A white light spread.
Seven of the fifteen animals burned.
But it was done.
The next day, it was as if Maru had never been sick a day in her life.
She was walking by herself.
She was alive.
She looked at him in shock when she saw his arm.
"What happened?" she said tears filling her eyes.
"Nothing." he replied we will be ok now i promise.
He had done it.
But he swore— He would take this secret to his grave.
In ten years, the city grew more sophisticated.
More children had been born.
The population had doubled—no, tripled.
And in those years, Rosavolt continued to learn, to grow.
This thriving, still-developing land would, in the years to come, be known as Veloria.
He had finally done it.
He knew what it would take to grant the people of Veloria immortality again. He knew exactly what he needed.
But he stalled.
He hesitated.
He didn't know if he had the strength to follow through with it.
How could he?
It was too much. Too much to ask.
So he sat on it.
And the years passed.
Veloria thrived.
Maru and Rosavolt got married officially this time.
But most importantly…They had a child.
The baby was due any moment now. In preparation, Rosavolt had two necklaces made—gold chains engraved with delicate black rose flowers. One was for his wife. The other, for his newborn child.
On the day she was born, the room fell silent.
The child was deformed.
No arms. No legs.
A rare defect.
Maru and Rosavolt, though heartbroken, accepted and loved her regardless.
But deep down, Rosavolt blamed himself.
Was this karma for the life he had lived?
Five years passed.
Rosavolt had become a master of the sacrifice rituals.
He created artificial arms and legs for his daughter at the cost of a few animals.
They looked immaculate—almost indistinguishable from real limbs.
Artificial hands and feet for his baby girl.
A year later, the worst news of his life reached him.
His daughter had the same illness that had once plagued Maru.
The news shattered him.
He could not—would not—accept it.
Maru was still alive only because he kept healing her.
But who would heal his precious daughter after he was gone?
He trusted no one with the secret.
And now, age was starting to weigh heavy on both Maru and Rosavolt.
How much time did they really have left in this world?
Then... that night.
The news had pushed him past the edge.
He knew what he had to do.
The ultimate sacrifice.
The one thing he discovered all those years ago.
The thing he had not been willing to do back then.
But now... he had no choice.
That night, he went to the hospital bay—the area where the newborns were kept.
His heart raced.
Tears filled his eyes.
He took two of the newborns and walked to the stables, where two carts sat waiting.
He placed them inside.
And in that moment, he cried.
His voice raw with pain.
He grabbed their small hands, trembling, and made the ultimate decision.
"Grant my people the blessing once lost," he whispered, pain thick in his voice.
A bright light exploded, destroying the barn and ripping through the clouds.
A ray of white light shot into the sky, smashing through the clouds.
The skies cleared.
And just like that night so long ago—
The sacrifice was accepted.
For a moment, the sky cracked open.
And even though it was brief, Rosavolt saw it—
The sky broke into pieces.
Shards fell like stardust, then repaired themselves just as quickly.
He fell to his knees.
He wept.
What he had done would go on to be known as the greatest stain this world had seen since the Burning.
That night, rays of white ash rained down upon the people, embracing them.
The ash floated into the homes of Veloria, lighting the night sky.
That night, the blessing once more returned to the people of Veloria.
And on that day—immortality was theirs again.
But this time…The price paid was too much.
Maru walked in.
She saw the charred carts— And fell to her knees.
"What have you done…" she whispered.
She had seen the whole thing.
Her voice cracked.
"What have you done, Rosavolt?"
Rosavolt cried.
Panicked, he tried to explain it all— How it started.
Why he did what he did.
That night, she listened.
She cried with him.
She loved him.
And hated herself for not seeing the weight he had carried alone.
The ashes engulfed her, too.
But not him.
The blessing rejected him.
After all, he had spilled blood.
Just like Sina had, all those years ago.
If it hadn't before—The world now definitely turned its back on him.
They stood over a fire that night.
She held his hand.
"We need to leave," she said.
"If the world ever finds out what you did, they'll hang you."
She understood.
But before they disappeared into the night,
She declared:
"If we are to be reborn—
If we are to be forgiven—
Then our old selves must die."
Rosavolt died that night.
Maru died that night.
And Magnus was born.
Lilith was born.
But the world didn't accept them.
As if in protest, the world left its mark—
Two horns formed on the head of lilith the price for helping the devil one might say
Lilith didn't care.
She held her daughter and ran.
They vanished into the woods, far from Veloria,
deep into a forest where Magnus built a barrow.
For months, he watched over them in silence.
But the memory of that night never left him.
He looked up at the skies, and in that moment—
he understood.
This world… It was a cage.
A prison.
And he could not rest, not with that truth burning inside him.
So one night, Magnus left.
He set out on his final mission.
He didn't have the immortality he had given his family.
But with what little time he had left,
he would dedicate every breath to them.
He would not rest.
Not until he set them free—for real this time.
In a dark room, unknown to us,
he wrote the message:
"I blame you, Sina.
You have broken this world.
The sin your heart carried has burned us all.
Now we sit in a prison built by your design.
And they are here.
That which escaped… is here now.
On the day the skies fall, your sins will bear the fruit you sowed.
Damn you, Sina.
Yet I have no right to speak.
The demons we've loosed, the stains we've left—
they are here because we refused to accept the world as it was.
So we chose to change it.
I no longer know what's right or wrong.
But I do know what I must do… for what I hold dear.
If I am meant to be cast into hell for what I've done—
Then I'll meet you there.
We have opened pandora's box and there is no going back any more
Let the world look back and blame us.
For we have broken it forever."