Nathaniel Hale. He is a normal 17 years old who dropped out of high school and is working in a shop, selling items on display.
Despite having an ordinary job, he doesn't come from an ordinary family.
Cult Livian. A cult that worships Goddess Livia. It must have existed not more than a century or more. But, Natheniel's parents were the priests of the cult. A high ranking person.
That cult praises the Godess Livia. Its members are not more than 200 people yet, their faith is strong.
Goodess Livia is the Godess Livia is the Godess of everything! Every creation! Every being is her children!
Of course, no one knew who exactly was she, nor does she have a story behind her origin nor a tale to tell. She just existed. There was no statue of her, no literature work. She's just there.
And obviously, they were just a cult. So, as soon as Nathaniel turned 15, he left the cult. Of course, his parents opposed to his rebels but as soon as he declared that he doesn't want pray to the Godess, he was instantly kicked out on the road by his parents.
So, for the past two years he had to survive on his own. But there was a shopkeeper who knew his parents and took him in. He believed that his parents were insane and supported the boy.
Nathaniel didn't feel guilt when he left the cult but rather he felt happy. He had never been happier in his whole life.
Yet, he was forced to adopt one thing. His cult had a strange tradition. They had to write these weird sigils every day. They were thier language. They had to write them everyday no matter what happened. Even a letter would suffice.
He couldn't let go of his habit and it irritated him. He had been taught one thing in the cult to never stop writing or else the child of the Godess would take you with him.
"Aren't we all Goddess's children?" A young Natheniel asked.
But he got the same answer everytime. "It's the Goddess's will."
The only thing he knew about that child of the Goddess was that he created the concept of 'Death' and 'Sorrow' which was opposite of the Goddess. Yet he was not an evil entity.
They never told him that he really was. It was perhaps because the cult was all made up and didn't have a story to back then up.
It was almost 12pm. Almost.
Nathaniel hadn't wrote a single word the whole day.
"I forgot to write, uncle." Nathaniel spoke to the shopkeeper.
"Write what? Those stories that you pose online?" The shopkeeper asked as he arranged the tissue papers on the top shelf.
"No. Not that. The Sigils."
He stopped. He turned to look at the child who was the same height as him. "You didn't stop?"
"I wanted to.... But..." Natheniel couldn't find an excuse. He couldn't tell him that it was his hands that were itching to write.
"Kid." The shopkeeper said as he placed his hand on his shoulder. "I believe that when you escape from that place, you wanted to forget everything."
Nathaniel remained quiet. "It's not like i can forget about my parents in on day. You could say that about Aunt."
The shopkeeper went quiet as he stared off. His wife died on the eve of Christmas leaving behind a small daughter and a son. His family could never forget her. How could they even? Who would forget their own family?
"You are right, kid. My fault there." He said as he let of his shoulder.
"But bear with if for now. I can't have you wasting the registers." He said.
"I am going to write so small that no one will notice."
"Sorry, can't do. Wait until we go home." He said.
Nathaniel looked at the time on the clock 12:59:15
It was near he could feel it. Natheniel lifted his right hand and drew something on his left arm.
5....
4....
3....
2....
1....
....
Thud
The shopkeeper looked beside him. His eyes widened and he yelled. "NATH!"
The body layed down on the flood as his eyes lost its light and the blood on his nose flowed down.
Time of death- 12:00 pm
Cause of death?
.
.
.
¿V!;*
Unknown