Scion of the Fates Picture

Scion of the Fates

This was done for an art competition ran by
The woman stood alone in an emptied temple, ravaged by the darkness that surrounded its once humble and sanctified hollows. The temple had been gutted by both brigands and raiders, legionaries conscripted by some foreign warlord in some distant land. The treasures had been stolen. The relics had been smashed and violated in defiance by the religious dogmas of the invaders. These halls were once home to the enlightened, the redeemed, the damned, and forgiving. Over a thousand generation's hopes, dreams, penitence, and faith once filled this hall.
But now it was silent, like the world beyond the temple's door. A world silenced by the ravages of an invading army, once that was prophesized by the temple's far seers and prophets.
But standing among the ruin, covered in the gore and filth of battle, stood a young woman, a lone survivor of the horrors that had once gripped the region. She, unlike the others who had already died, would not choose a docile and butchered death. No, she would not go like sheep to slaughter, to the ravages of foreign soldiers and then execution. She would survive, she would grow strong, and she shall deliver a reckoning that would shake the very foundations of her world; a reckoning so powerful, so potent, so filled with the anger of entire race that her enemies would tremble at the very accent of her name.
After all this temple had once belonged to the three Fates of Harmony, Discord, and Temperance. The three Fates who guided all men and all women down the endless spiral of time into the void of nothingness. This had once been their home, their place of benevolence, and wisdom; now transformed into a burned and blasted hollow of its former glory.
The Fates had chosen their champion. She would wield Harmony, wreck Discord, and travel Temperance into the very heart of her enemies. She was the Scion of the Fates, and she would work to their bidding achieving both the revenge of her deities and of her mortal unquiet anger.
She gathered her blades, silently whispered a quiet prayer, and confidently walked from the darkened mists and entered into the outside world.
After all, who can defeat one who wields the very powers and blessings of fate?

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