THE PROLOGUE (lynni)

  The first time Verephine saw him, she was five.  She had been playing in the field behind their cottage, the sunlight casting golden ribbons through the tall grass. Her tiny fingers were wrapped around the stem of a wildflower, plucking petals one by one as she whispered her childish wishes to the wind. “He’ll come,” she said aloud, her voice trembling with a hope she didn’t yet understand. “He has to.”
And then he did.He stepped from the shadows of the woods like something out of a dream. He was tall—impossibly so to her young eyes—with a presence that stole the breath from her lungs. His robes were dark as midnight, yet they shimmered faintly in the sun, as though they held galaxies stitched within their folds. His face, sharp and otherworldly, bore no smile. There was only his gaze, piercing and heavy, as if it were weighing her soul.Verephine froze, her flower falling forgotten at her feet. She wanted to run to him, to feel his arms around her the way her mother sometimes did when she was scared, but something held her back. Fear, perhaps. Or maybe the quiet realization that this man—this god—was not the kind to offer warm embraces.“You’re the child,” he said, his voice deep and cold, like the groan of ancient ice. He didn’t call her by name. He never did.
“Yes,” she replied, her voice small. She wanted to say more, to tell him she had been waiting, that she’d dreamed of this moment. But the words tangled in her throat, swallowed by the weight of his presence.He looked her over, his eyes lingering on her small frame, her pale hands, her wide, hopeful eyes. Then he turned away. “You’ll stay here,” he said, his tone final. “With your mother.”“But… why?” The question tumbled out before she could stop it. She stepped forward, her heart pounding. “Why can’t I go with you? Why can’t I live with you?”He paused, the edge of his form blurring as if he were already halfway gone. “You do not deserve it,” he said simply, without anger or malice, but with a detachment that cut deeper than any blade. “Not yet.”And then, like he was never even there in the first place, he was gone.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻Verephine didn’t cry that day. She sat in the field until the sun sank below the horizon, her tiny fists clutching the torn petals of her flower. Her mother found her there, scooped her up, and carried her inside, whispering reassurances that felt hollow even to a child.For years, she tried to understand his words. Not yet. They became a mantra, an obsession. She asked her mother about him, but the answers were always vague, cloaked in excuses and half-truths. He was busy. He was important. He had a realm to tend to. But Verephine saw the truth in her mother’s tired eyes: he didn’t come because he didn’t want to.Her half-siblings were different. They were perfect, or so she imagined. She heard whispers of them from her mother—children who lived in their father’s realm, bathed in divine light, their powers shining like stars in the night sky. They had everything Verephine didn’t: his pride, his love, his presence.And she hated them for it.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻The first time she felt her magic stir, she was thirteen.It wasn’t grand or glorious like she had hoped. It came in the quiet of night, a flicker of heat in her chest as she lay awake, her thoughts consumed by envy. She had seen her father again that day, his visit as brief and cold as ever. He had spoken of her siblings, their accomplishments, their power. He hadn’t even looked at her as he spoke, as though she were no more than the air around him.The magic clawed its way out of her, raw and untamed. The lantern by her bedside shattered, its glass splintering across the floor. Her mother rushed in, her face pale with fear, but Verephine didn’t flinch. For the first time, she felt something other than longing.She felt power.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻

THE CONCEPT

  INTRODUCTION  You came here because you envy, didn’t you? That insidious, gnawing desire that eats at you like a shadow in the back of your mind. You watch them—your rival, your obsession, the person who embodies everything you wish you could be—and you feel it. The ache. The anger. The want.That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’ve tried to quiet it, to reason with it, but envy has a voice of its own. It whispers to you in the dark, telling you what you already know: their life should have been yours. Their beauty, their talent, their love—it belongs to you.You don’t need to wish anymore. Verephine understands. She offers more than simple consolation or fleeting power. She gives you what you deserve.When you come to her, there is no judgment. Verephine doesn’t ask why you envy them or whether your feelings are justified. She doesn’t care about fairness or morality. All she asks is one question:"Do you wish to take what they have?"If you say yes, the pact is made. Verephine takes nothing but the weight of your hesitation. No blood is spilled, no soul is bartered—at least, not in a way you’ll notice.You leave her sanctuary knowing your life will never be the same. Not because you’ve been empowered or changed, but because you will become the very person you envy. Verephine does not grant you a version of what you desire; she gives you exactly what you covet. Their life becomes yours. Their face, their voice, their world—it’s all yours.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻  THE AWAKENING  The transformation doesn’t come with fanfare or drama. It happens in the stillness of night. When you return home, you’re told to sleep. That’s all. No warnings, no promises—just the quiet assurance that when you wake, you will have what you desire.And so you sleep.The next morning, everything is different. You wake not in your bed, but in theirs. Their world surrounds you—their room, their belongings, their reflection staring back at you. Their voice slips easily from your throat. Their memories unfurl in your mind, familiar and yet not your own.It feels seamless, natural, as though you have always been them. No one questions the shift. Friends, family, lovers—they look at you and see them. The world adjusts to your presence like it was always meant to be.For a time, you revel in the perfection. You smile at your reflection, touch the skin you once envied, live the life you once craved. It is everything you dreamed of.But envy is never satisfied. It is a hunger that cannot be filled.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻  THE DISPLACED SOUL  What happens to the person you envied? What becomes of their soul, the life you stole?No one asks. No one cares.But Verephine knows.The soul you displaced does not vanish. It lingers, trapped within the goddess’s altar. They are her shadows now, silent and invisible to the mortal world. They whisper secrets into her ears, serve her temple, and tend to the rituals of envy. Their existence is hollow and tormented, their only awareness is the knowledge of what they’ve lost.Some say they become part of the goddess herself, their anguish feeding her endless power. Others believe they are kept as reminders of the price of envy, used to weave the magic that sustains her sanctuary.Whatever their fate, one thing is certain: they will never escape. And neither will you, not really.For even as you live the life you envied, your mind will wander. You will feel the hollow ache of knowing you are not truly them. And when the whispers grow louder, when the hunger returns, you will go back to Verephine.

NYXEN

  Nyxen's Backstory  Nyxen wasn’t born in the traditional sense—he was forged. Crafted in the void between realms, he was the manifestation of a single, powerful emotion: envy. Long before he came to serve Verephine, he existed as a drifting wisp, unnoticed and forgotten, feeding on the fragmented desires of mortals. Their longing, their yearning to be something or someone else, gave him form. Yet, even with his newfound existence, he lacked purpose—a creature born from envy, but without a guiding hand.It wasn’t until he felt the pull of her magic that he found meaning. Verephine’s raw, untamed power called to him like a beacon, a thread of envy so pure it eclipsed all others. He appeared before her on a moonlit night when she was barely learning to wield her abilities. Young Verephine, her eyes ablaze with newfound strength, stared at the shadowy creature that hovered before her—a curious mix of fear and fascination in her gaze.“Who are you?” she had asked, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that gripped her.Nyxen didn’t answer at first. Words were unfamiliar to him; he spoke in feelings, in the twisting ache of envy that thrummed through their bond. Slowly, he began to understand her desires, her anger, and her hunger for something more.“I am yours,” he had said at last, his voice a whisper that echoed within her mind. And from that moment on, he became her shadow, her confidant, and her weapon. He fed on her envy, growing stronger with each passing year, his power entwined with hers in a way that neither could escape.Nyxen was more than a companion; he was a mirror of Verephine’s soul. Where she commanded mortals with whispers of their darkest desires, Nyxen prowled in the shadows, amplifying their envy until it consumed them. He was the silent reminder of her strength, her fury, and the power she had forged from her father’s rejection.༺☆༻____________☾✧ ✩ ✧☽____________༺☆༻  Nyxen's Appearance  Nyxen is a small, bat-like creature, but his size is deceptive. His body is made of shifting shadows, constantly swirling and curling like tendrils of smoke. His dark, velvety form appears weightless, as if he were more illusion than substance. Two large, luminous pink eyes glow like twin embers in the night, their gaze piercing and unrelenting. His ears are sharp and angular, twitching to catch even the faintest sound.When angered or feeding on the envy of others, Nyxen’s form changes. The shadows that make up his body deepen, becoming almost impenetrable, and faint cracks of violet light streak across his form, as if barely containing the energy within. His wings, though small, shimmer faintly with an iridescent sheen, catching the light like oil on water.Despite his eerie appearance, there’s an almost childlike curiosity to the way Nyxen moves, flitting around Verephine with an energy that belies his dark origins. Yet, there’s always a sense of danger in his presence, a feeling that beneath his playful exterior lies a being capable of unleashing chaos at a moment’s notice.Tho.. That’s not his real form.  **==

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