Before the world came to know her as a symbol of tragedy and destruction, Sheena was merely a girl of ancient bloodline, a descendant of Elysvarre, who was said to possess the extraordinary ability to either purify or curse matter with her touch—an extraordinary gift that set her apart from others. However, this ancient blood was both a blessing and a curse. At a young age—long before great kingdoms rose and fell around the Stones—Sheena was bestowed with the Cursed Aurum Vitae, an unwanted legacy that would forever alter her life.
Often, under the moonlight, she would stand by the riverbank, listening to the teasing whispers of the wind, as if it already knew the dark fate that awaited her. "Why was I born with this curse?" she sighed inwardly, her face reflecting longing and loneliness; her heart trembled with the desire to live a normal life like other girls, rather than being the source of sorrow for those around her.
Initially, the curse seemed like a blessing. Everything she touched turned to gold.
Every rose petal in her garden became a precious gem.
Every household item she touched transformed into invaluable wealth.
Nobles, merchants, and even religious leaders came to kneel before her, enchanted by the magical aura surrounding her and her ability to turn everything into gold. They called her The Golden Princess, a title that reflected not only her high status but also the opulence of her surroundings, yet at the same time, they remained blissfully unaware of the heavy burden she carried beneath her shimmering façade.
However, they were blind to the cost of such luxury. Among them was an old king with a white beard trembling, who said, "My princess, if gold is what you offer, then keep your glory." His words were like a gentle night breeze, yet they hinted at a profound pain hidden within.
The curse grew.
Not only did everything she touched transform intentionally, but even the air she breathed, the ground she walked on, and even the water that met her skin turned into cold, lifeless precious metals. The rivers in her village became treacherous streams of molten gold, where fish floated lifelessly, and the fields transformed into expanses of sterile golden crystals—beautiful yet devoid of life. The trees ceased to breathe, as if silently expressing their silent gratitude to Sheena for her curse.
As the cries of the farmers echoed painfully in her ears, Sheena felt a piercing pain gnawing at her soul, as if something were ruthlessly tearing her heart apart. "I never asked for this," she shouted into the wind, which only responded with a chilling silence. Gazing at the barren fields that were once fertile, she whispered softly, "You are my silent witness, and I am just a hug lost in meaningless luxury, trapped in an endless curse, devoid of solace."
The farmers lamented:
"We ask for a harvest, not a crown of death."
The people began to resent that so-called blessing. Sheena's family fell victim first. As she embraced her mother to comfort her in the face of bad news, her mother's body crystallized into golden splendor, her once-warm eyes freezing like a statue. "Mother, don't leave me!" Sheena sobbed, her voice breaking into pieces under that frozen gaze. Her father, who tried to kiss her forehead, evaporated into golden dust.
The most horrific suffering came when Sheena became an enemy to her own body.
Every piece of bread she tried to hold turned to gold.
Every drop of water she grasped became a metallic poison that flowed into the rivers, poisoning the people who tried to drink from them.
The tears that fell from her cheeks left behind metallic stains on the floor, creating a sorrowful trail of the suffering she endured. "Who can save me from this curse?" she whispered, as if even the wind was reluctant to carry her voice and provide the answer she hoped for, further deepening her sense of isolation.
For seven days and seven nights, Sheena endured hunger and thirst. Her small hands trembled, her skin taking on a ghastly green hue from starvation. She attempted to eat without touching: dropping food into her mouth from afar, but the wind, tainted by her curse, transformed the food into metallic shards before they could touch her tongue.
In her solitude, she imagined the soft voice of her brother, a balm for her soul who always provided strength, as if accompanying her in the silence: "Sister, we will be together again, if only you fight a little harder and do not succumb to this curse."
"Have I become a machine of destruction? Or is the world playing tricks on me?"
Ultimately, the elders of the kingdom decided. For the sake of the people and the world, Sheena must be exiled.
On the peak of a remote mountain stood the Viridium Tower, an ancient green stone structure believed to have been built by powerful wizards from an era long before language was created, when doubt and wonder still enveloped the world. Its walls were intricately layered with their own magic, capable of resisting even the dreadful curse of Aurum Vitae, making it both a sanctuary yet a source of fear for the exiled Sheena.
There, Sheena was imprisoned.
There were no servants. No friends. Only silent walls and an indifferent sky.
For years she had not spoken. Her tongue had nearly forgotten the language of humans. She learned to converse with shadows, with the whispers of wind that slipped through the stone crevices.
Her hair grew long enough to touch the floor, and her once-bright blue eyes had turned into two frozen lakes.
One night, in the haunting silence, a shadow approached. "Sheena," a gentle voice called, as if crossing the boundaries of time and space. "Don't you miss the sound of your friend?"
She turned, recognizing the familiar tone. "You? Come back, Rina," she said, her voice trembling like dry leaves brushed by the wind. "What are you doing here?"
Yet time was a force even curses bowed to.
When the 77th full moon of her exile rose majestically in the sky, something transformative occurred. The curse that once raged like a torrential flood now flowed as a gentle stream. Sheena's touch, while still dangerous, no longer altered the entire world around her, signaling a shift in her fate.
The branch she held had become just a piece of metal. The raindrops that fell on her palm were no longer deadly; instead, they left behind golden specks that sank into the earth.
"When you step outside, try to be gentle with the world you left behind," Rina said, her eyes filled with hope. "You will find light in your darkness."
Birds returned, perching on the window of the tower; as if symbolizing the return of hope, hinting that life and freedom awaited beyond after so long imprisoned in sorrow.
Grass began to grow in the cracks of the stones, a vibrant symbol of resilience and renewal amid the desolation.
And for the first time since her family's downfall, Sheena could step out of the tower door without cursing the ground beneath her feet.
Sheena stood at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the horizon.
Yet Sheena remained alive, burdened by the chains of her past, striving valiantly to find new meaning in a life that had undergone a profound transformation. The kingdom that once condemned her had long since fallen into oblivion. Generations had passed, and no one remembered the "Golden Princess" except as a mere fairy tale passed down through the ages.
Yet Sheena lived.
"Is there anything left from all of this?" she whispered, her soft voice floating across the wind as if hoping for a reply from the blue sky.
On the edge of the cliff, a shadowy figure emerged; the silhouette of an aged guardian, his beard shimmering like the fresh morning dew. "What remains is hope, Princess," he replied, his eyes sparkling with ancient wisdom, gazing at Sheena with a depth that seemed to understand all she had endured throughout her trials. "Guard your path and remember, each step you take creates a new history filled with meaning and purpose."
She walked carefully, each footprint a reminder that the curse had never truly vanished.
But this time, it was she who controlled the curse—not the other way around.
"If the world offers a curse, then I will turn it into strength. Not gold for greed... but gold to protect."
As if sensing her determination, the wind blew stronger, lifting her hair like a crown. "Prepare yourself, Sheena," the guardian whispered again, "this world will come to know your name once more."
Her steps became a new legend:
Sheena, The Walking Gold.