Among the ruins of ancient times, nestled deep within the hidden caves of the northern mountains, an artifact whispered of only in legend was discovered: the Hand of Midas. This remarkable relic was not merely a glove or charm, but a golden shackle encasing the right hand, intricately inscribed with Proto Speech. It symbolically bound the concept of material transformation and bestowed extraordinary powers upon its wielder.
"He who holds this hand, holds the right to judge the living and the dead."
Her uncle—Lord Caereth, the younger brother of her deceased father—uncovered the artifact through the assistance of adventurers and hired sorcerers. Through ancient magic and blood rituals, the artifact was affixed to Sheena's right hand.
As the shackle fused with her skin, the once-uncontrollable curse of Aurum Vitae began to be directed. No longer did every touch of Sheena incur random curses; now, she had the power to choose.
Her choices became law.
And law became a tool of power.
With this newfound strength, the kingdom of Elysvarre was no longer a small realm threatened by the curse of a child.
Instead, the curse was transformed into a weapon.
Initially, the gold that Sheena created was used to stabilize the economy. Taxes were easily paid, a magnificent war fleet was constructed, and trade with other nations opened new routes for silk and silver.
Elysvarre became the center of wealth in the western world of Earth, drawing the attention of many rulers and merchants from across the land.
However, gold brought with it a disease far worse than any curse: the insidious grip of greed.
Lord Caereth, now serving as both guardian and foster father to Sheena, began to wield that power for political ends, twisting and distorting justice for personal gain. He ordered Sheena to attend the royal court, where anyone who opposed taxes, defied the crown, or even seemed suspicious—faced punishment without a lengthy trial.
"Give them a choice, Sheena," he said.
"Submit... or become gold."
Sheena, who once cried for accidentally cursing her own mother, now had no tears left. She simply nodded.
Yet beneath her calm exterior, a silent storm brewed within. Reminded of all that had been lost, she in an instant felt the weight of repressed sorrow. Her heart cried out for justice, but that voice was drowned out by the whispers of Lord Caereth's greed.
A gentle touch.
One second.
And bodies transformed into beautiful yet horrifying golden statues.
The rebels, the poor who refused forced labor, and the nobles who attempted treachery—each became ornamental features in the palace garden.
In the front yard of Elysvarre palace stood the Garden of Redemption, a chilling symbol of greed and power that took lives.
Hundreds of golden statues, each bearing frozen expressions of fear and regret, served as both art and warning.
The rebels, the poor who refused forced labor, and the nobles who attempted treachery— all became ornaments in the palace garden, reflecting the injustice propagated by corrupt power.
At the front of the Elysvarre palace stood the Garden of Redemption.
Hundreds of golden statues displayed expressions of fear and regret.
Sheena walked among them every morning. Her once petite feet were now adorned with golden crystal shoes, and her black and white dress flowed with each step like a shadow of the goddess of death, exuding an aura of sorrow mixed with unyielding arrogance.
"Every step I take is a reminder of the choices made by others," she thought, her inner voice echoing in the silence of the garden. "Those who sought to turn me into a monster now reveal themselves as mere decorations."
No mercy.
No compassion.
She was the executioner walking in the name of royal law.
It all began many years ago.
When Sheena's curse first arose, her parents—King Eldren and Queen Lysaria—knelt before the royal council, pleading that their child not be exiled.
"She is just a child! This curse is not her choice!"
Yet fear triumphed over love.
The advisors and nobles agreed: Sheena was a threat. She must be exiled or killed.
"They do not understand," Sheena hissed to herself, "how I am a victim of a greater game and unseen forces." King Eldren stood, his hand gripping his daughter's shoulder, offering one last show of support in this helpless situation.
"If you wish to cast her away, then cast us away as well."
In their desperation, Eldren and Lysaria pleaded for the curse on Sheena to instead fall upon them.
"If the world cannot accept my child, let us become part of her curse. Better to be gold by her side than to live in a world that exiles her."
Sheena screamed in refusal.
However, her small body could not resist the will of her blood.
As her parents embraced her...
the two figures froze in a perfect golden sheen.
The last King and Queen of Elysvarre became two eternal statues.
Now they stood in the main hall of the palace, displayed as a reminder to all the people:
"Even familial love cannot overcome the law of gold that seizes freedom and soul."
Years passed. Sheena stopped counting time.
Her days became a series of rituals:
Trials. Punishments. Taxations. Exhibitions of wealth.
As time went on, Sheena felt a profound emptiness within herself. Every step she took in this cold hall felt heavy, as if the earth were rejecting her existence. The figure she once was, filled with joy, had now become a shadow drifting aimlessly.
She spoke only when announcing verdicts.
She did not laugh.
She did not cry.
She did not dream.
"Emotions are a weakness," her uncle used to say.
"The people do not need a goddess with a heart. They need a symbol that is unwavering."
And Sheena believed him.
In her mind, she was no longer human; she felt trapped within the cold, emotionless soul of Aurum Vitae.
She was Aurum Vitae.
She was Aurum Vitae, a chilling embodiment of both the hand of justice and the hand of oppression.
A symbol of strength.
A puppet devoid of feelings.
Even the smiles of the people she once knew—servants, guards, even childhood friends—had all transformed into expressions of deceit or fear.
No one dared to call her Sheena anymore.
They referred to her as Lady Aurum.
Yet, deep within her heart, the remnants of the old Sheena were not entirely dead.
However, that nostalgia was ensnared in a web of darkness, like shadowy remnants clinging to a lost soul amidst a storm of despair. The fragments of joy that once shone brightly now wilted and were nearly forgotten, overshadowed by the relentless injustice that marred her existence.
Every night, she sat in the lonely garden.
Beneath the golden statues of her father and mother, she whispered:
"Father... Mother... have I done the right thing?"
The statues never answered.
But the night wind often carried the faint sound of a child's voice:
"I want to play, not judge."
Sheena imagined that joyful laughter, crafting a piece of a world that had vanished. In a sky filled with stars, she longed for the warmth of light that once filled her heart, but all of that now felt distant, hidden behind a curtain of tyranny.
Yet, that voice soon faded, swallowed by duty and power.
Until the night she encountered a young man in the market, with a baby in his arms...
That night — a night never reported in the royal records — Sheena escaped from her guards, trying to forget the suffocating rituals of power. In the panic gnawing at her mind, she felt her heartbeat quickening, as if afraid of the shadows following her steps.
She stumbled in the market.
She was starving.
She had almost forgotten the sensation of hunger itself, having not felt any human need for so long. And amidst the crushing loneliness that embraced her, she wondered: was there anyone else—anyone still alive—who could hear her suppressed cries for help?
It was there that she met the young man.
The young man who offered her bread.
The young man who didn't turn to gold upon touch.
The young man who cradled a small baby named Rinoa.
As their hands touched and the curse failed to take effect, for the first time in years, Sheena felt alive.
As the warmth of that touch spread across her skin, Sheena felt something that had long been lost: hope.
She did not know the young man's name.
She did not know he was Fitran Fate, a pivotal figure in the unfolding narrative of history who would ultimately change the course of destiny and the will of the world.
Her head spun, as if everything around her became a blur, while only the figure of the young man shone clearly in her mind.
That night was the first time she fell asleep without nightmares.
It was the first time she heard the sound of a baby laughing without fear, a sound that reminded her of the past before the curse enveloped her life.
And it was the first time—in a very long time—Sheena asked herself, hoping to rediscover her true self: "Am I really a doll? Or am I still a human who can love and feel alive?"
Her heart whispered in the dark, demanding answers that she did not possess. She feared transforming her soul into a lifeless shadow.
In the days following that encounter, Sheena returned to the palace. No one knew what had transpired in the market.
Her duties continued.
Gold continued to flow.
The Elysvarre Kingdom grew ever wealthier.
But within her, the seed of change had been carefully planted, a silent promise of rebellion against the fate imposed upon her.
Every time she raised her hand to punish, she remembered the young man's hand.
A hand that was not stone, not afraid, and did not exploit its power.
A hand that made her feel... human.
And even though she could not rebel openly—despite her uncle binding her in the chains of law and throne—Sheena knew that one day, the moment would come.
The moment when she would no longer be a doll bound to the laws and powers that constrained her.
When gold is no longer a tool of punishment but rather the key to freedom, Aurum Vitae will cease to be a curse that binds. Instead, it will blossom into a pathway home for souls yearning to liberate themselves from the shackles of greed.
It will be a way back home.