**Precaution Note:**
Before reading the following content, please note the following:
1. **Content Sensitivity:** This narrative includes explicit descriptions of sexual themes and may not be suitable for all audiences.
2. **Emotional Impact:** Expect intense scenarios and complex emotional dynamics throughout the story.
3. **Mature Themes:** Themes of attachment and seduction are explored within a simulated gaming context.
4. **Psychological Considerations:** Remember that the characters and events are fictional and may not reflect reality accurately.
5. **Self-Care:** Prioritize your well-being while reading. Take breaks if needed and seek support if discomfort arises.
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Thank you for your understanding and take care while engaging with the content.
Sincerely,
Tl Bree
Prologue. The Illyanka Myth
***
In the year 1179 B.C., in Hittite lands.
‘Kill the beast with red eyes!’
Roar! Crash!
The pitch-black sky flashed white a few times, and a lightning bolt in the shape of a spear pierced the ground.
Zap!
Sparse vegetation on the dry land split apart, and sand poured like a waterfall into the black earth.
The priests sprinkled holy water on themselves, desperate to escape the wrath of the gods.
‘For peace in Hittite lands!’
‘For peace in Hittite lands!’
The eyes of the shouting humans gleamed in the lightning flashes cast by Teshub, the Hittite god of thunder and storms.
The legs of the beast tore and crumpled in the sharp light. Its innards spilled out from its torso.
Finally, sensing its imminent death, the beast looked up at the sky. The once bright night sky turned crimson in an instant.
It cried out, “Teshub, who took my daughter, I curse the land of the Hatti! I will engrave the misfortune of the tribe deep into this land! Only the daughter with red eyes can cleanse this land!”
Crash! Rumble!
As the sky shattered, humans plugged their ears against the deafening noise and cried out in agony.
The beast, with pitiful faces imprinted in its eyes, wore an expression devoid of tears or laughter.
The pitiable tribe with red eyes, cursed by the wrath of the gods. The father of the tribe mocked by humans.
Countless rumors pointing towards him eventually gave birth to unjust death.
With his last strength, the beast bestowed upon his dying daughter the power to lift the curse.
The faint life soon extinguished completely. The daughter with red eyes died. Her dry heart would be buried in the Anatolian wilderness, and her departed soul would be sealed to endure the mockery of the gods.
The beast mourned his daughter’s death. Tears fell from his red eyes like Marassantiya River rushing to overflow its banks. The river water turned red like blood.
‘Kill the beast with red eyes!’
‘Kill the beast with red eyes!’
Zap!
As if in response to the prayers of the priests, lightning pierced through the beast’s head.
Finally, the beast fell. In his arms lay his daughter with red eyes, lifeless and unaware even in death.
A celebration ensued. The beast that dared to challenge the gods met its demise!
But as the lightning subsided, this time the verdant mountains erupted in anger. The wounded mountains engulfed in flames from the flashing lightning.
It’s a mountain fire! The faces of the priests, who had enjoyed victory, turned pale with horror. A scream echoed from where the sky met the mountains.
‘Father!’
All of Hittite’s mountains blazed red like the eyes of the beast. Sharruma, the god of the Hittite mountains and the son of the god Teshub and the goddess Arinnu, knelt with both knees and cried out with his whole being.
‘I will abandon Hittite! I will follow the beast’s daughter! Please, let me die with her!’
I would suffer the punishment of embracing the beast’s daughter and love. And I would plunge a dagger into the heart of the man who killed her. I would relinquish life as the price of betraying this land.
The lightning flickered faintly as it heard the son’s cry. Soon, it surged like a whirlwind, engulfing the mountain peaks in pitch-black flames.
Birds nesting in the trees fell weakly like leaves, and mountain beasts carrying their young twisted beyond recognition.
Sharruma, the child of Hittite, turned into tiny grains of sand in Anatolia, the peninsula of Western Asia. Only his soul would wander this land alone for thousands of years.
Eventually, morning dawned. The Hittites rejoiced in the returning spring and prayed to their king.
Teshub, Teshub! The proud god of Hittite who sacrificed even his own child for victory, Teshub.
However, as brief as the spring of Hittite, the time of glory did not last long.
The Hittites, immersed in peace and victory, suddenly began to lose their vitality and decline. Dark red clouds hung over the once radiant and tranquil sky. Only the crimson river reflected the lion’s gate in a dull glow.
Teshub looked at the ruins of Hattusa and belatedly recalled the massacre of that time.
Sharruma…
Were those with red eyes really monsters?
