In her misery, Ithila wandered the forests of Hyath for many years, spreading darkness in her wake. In the beginning the moon did not shine for weeks until Iva`na forced her older daughter, Alu, to guide it over the skies while simultaneously watching over the water flows of the world. Ithila could find no one to turn to. The rest of the family did not dare disobey Iva`na, the Light Maker. The exiled goddess returned underneath the earth, wishing she would waste away and be forgotten. To her dismay, the Four Bane found her near a subterranean lake. Together they captured her and brought her to their home, the deepest abyss beneath the planet's surface, a massive cavern. The four siblings had carved themselves thrones out of the very rock. Upon returning, with Pain's immense power, he conjured up lava that hardened into the most sturdy obsidian chains.
There they kept Ithila, the Tainted One, prisoner.
"I'm starving," Famine laughed and her bony figure shook. Her hips, shoulder blades, elbows, fingers, and toes all stuck out from her skin as if she were the living dead. "Can we not eat her pretty flesh?"
"Nay, we must let our dear little sister tell us what our parents have been up to and why she has returned here," Plague replied to her sister. She let out a noxious cough. Despite her fragile-looking frame she was quite powerful. A green aura emitted from her skin.
"Tell us, little sister of the moon," added Pain as he placed Ithila in chains. She was too weak to fight against her brother, who was filled with jewelry in piercings he had created himself. Wrath watched from a distance, his arms crossed over his muscular body, saying nothing. Ithila's red eyes matched those of his now, but they were brighter with her tears.
To them she explained her other brothers and sisters and their purposes. She told of the races they had all created and of her own torment.
"Father created His own race?" Famine mused. The Four Bane exchanged devious glances.
"I want to do nothing but destroy them for Mother putting us here," Wrath finally spoke. When his mouth opened sharp canines were exposed. "And you, Ithila. You know now what it is to be rejected!" He spat on the rocky ground like any mortal.
"Please, I never did you ill. Let me go and leave me to be alone forever more!"
Wrath released a bark of a laugh. "Indeed you did not. You are ours now, however. I marked you when you came here not long before. Look how you've changed."
Pain grimaced. "I wish to use the demons - "
"- We so painstakingly birthed," interrupted Plague in a hiss.
"In good time," replied Wrath as he watched Ithila weep.
Meanwhile, in the mortal realm, the elven nobles were distraught to find the Taint spreading faster. Even some of the Golden elves were transforming. Those who tried to cure captured cult members were seduced and joined the new race. The new elves, finding the Mith`Quessir as threatening to their cause as the Ar`Quessir, separated themselves from the others, making their new home in a large cavern by a dark forest, but some elves were convinced they fled from the light.
Soon the pure Silver elves were dwindling in number. As years went by, with no cure or solution in sight, there was one remaining Silver elf. The noble of a House in which many of her subjects had turned willingly. Recalcitrant they had become, disappearing, worshipping the torment of some dark goddess and scheming ways of convincing their leader that was the only way.
This particular noble, Tauri Sehianna, deserted by her tainted husband and children, sat in the Nosse Omenta to a mass of Golden faces. Amazing as it was she had not been Tainted, she fought against the other Houses who wished for war against the new elves.
"There must be another way! Surely the magistrates, pardon me, have better judgment than killing our own brethren," she gestured to the remaining two elves in ornate robes, as the other two of Silver descent had been tainted. Their seats remained empty. They nodded their heads in recognition of her comment.
"Cousin, we hear you, but the time has come. Soon all our people will be extinct. The time for action is now if we are to survive this. How many decades have we lost our families? How many more do we have to suffer through to find all of the Golden race to be alongside the Tainted?" the male magistrate spoke to the council - half its original size.
"I have seen horrible visions!" she blurted as she clenched her jeweled fists. "I am trained as a prophet, hear me now! If you begin this civil war, only death will find you!"
Her prediction was ignored. The last Silver elf was killed in her anxious sleep by her own offspring. The Golden elves prepared for war.
Ithila raged in her chains. She no longer felt fear, only suffering and hatred. Pain had given her enough torture to understand the uselessness of fear. She felt the rage against her captors and her mother, the great goddess of Light. How could anyone benevolent cast out Her own daughter? She brooded darkly, snarling at her siblings when they came near. Despite her transformation, she was still beautiful, and her anger only amused the Four. Inside, she felt the connection to her race change. Often she heard their prayers, but they were different. They called to her as the Tormented One, Nwalmaer in the old tongue, or in a peculiar language created by her most loyal followers, Vic'arra, Queen of the Abyss. Her people were astonished to receive messages from her, clerics and prophets seeing the images of suffering. They understood her and shared her taint, realizing she no longer held sway over the moon. A deep love for her creations coursed through her every time she heard them in ritual or prayer. Yet her rage would not subside. She desired the power to destroy the gods, those who left her to rot and those who kept her prisoner. Even Anaron, her favorite out of all the gods, had abandoned her to her fate. In Ithila's mind she saw the World Tree burning, each limb cracking, blackening, eventually tumbling, crumbling down to the ruined earth. She would have burned it, if only she could reach her influence far enough.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
All in old tongue unless noted:
DE - Dark elven tongue
Tauri = Noble Woman (title)
Nosse Omenta = House Council (literally House Meeting), a congress of four magistrates and each house leader
Nwalmaer = Tormented One
Vic'arra = Queen of the Abyss (DE)
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