Marcus paced restlessly in front of the door, his anxiety palpable. The guards stationed on either side observed his agitated movements, their eyes silently tracking his every step. A final cry of anguish echoed through the room before a heavy silence settled upon it. Moments later, Mace emerged from the chamber, a smile playing on his lips.

"Congratulations, M'lord," Mace announced, his voice tinged with a touch of reverence. "You have been blessed with a beautiful baby girl."

Without a word, Marcus brushed past Mace and entered the room. Alessandra lay on the bed, cradling a bundle of blankets in her arms. As Marcus approached, a soft smile graced his lips, his eyes brimming with adoration for his newborn daughter. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss on Alessandra's forehead before bestowing one upon the baby. Mace reentered the room, followed closely by the two guards who discreetly took their positions by the door, now within the confines of the chamber. Meanwhile, the other members of the medical staff diligently worked to tidy up the surroundings.

"M'lord, there are pressing matters that require your attention," Mace interjected, his tone carrying a sense of urgency.

Marcus looked up from his seat on the bed, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and impatience. "What matters are so pressing that they cannot wait a few moments for me to bask in the joy of my daughter's arrival?"

Mace shifted his weight, rocking back and forth on his heels. "It concerns your daughter, M'lord."

Alessandra glanced up, her eyes filled with concern. "What about her?"

Mace sighed, running his fingers through his unruly brown hair. "The seers unveiled a prophecy last night—a prophecy that speaks of the god of Chaos and the one destined to vanquish him."

Marcus rose from his seat, his voice laced with a mixture of disbelief and protectiveness. "And what does this have to do with my daughter?"

Mace gestured toward the baby, his gaze fixed on the tiny form. "Your daughter, she is the chosen one who will bring the god of Chaos to his knees."

Alessandra clutched the baby closer, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and defiance. "That cannot be! She is but an hour old. We have witnessed the destruction caused by attempts to infuse vessels with the power required to defeat the god of Chaos. And now you propose subjecting my daughter to such a perilous fate?"

Mace ran a hand through his hair, his expression earnest. "Your majesty, the prophecy speaks of the daughter of the stars, and your daughter bears a star-shaped birthmark on the back of her neck. Moreover, you, Alessandra, are the queen of the stars, and Marcus is the God of War. The power within your daughter is palpable, even at this tender age. I believe she will survive the ritual and become the saviour our worlds desperately need."

Marcus took Alessandra's hand, his voice filled with unwavering conviction. "Have faith, my love. The council of elders has never led us astray. Mace, as their leader, believes in our daughter's potential to end this war. We must, at the very least, give her a chance."

As Alessandra gazed down at her daughter, preparing to speak, the castle shook violently, a thunderous crash resonating through the air. Marcus rushed to the window, his muttered curses underscoring his frustration, before turning to the guards positioned within the room.

"Guard this room with your lives," he ordered resolutely, before hastening out of the chamber.

Mace approached the window, closing his eyes briefly. "He dares to attack this place when the God of War resides within," he muttered to himself, shaking his head. With that, he exited the room to aid in fortifying the magical wardings.

Alessandra looked down at her daughter, her voice filled with a mix of hope and uncertainty. "Will you truly be the one to bring an end to this war, my little Alethia?" she whispered to the slumbering babe in her arms. With a sigh, she relinquished the child to one of the clerics for further examination, her weariness from labour finally catching up to her. She closed her eyes, seeking solace in a much-needed rest.

"You place an immense amount of faith in such a small being," a voice remarked.

Alessandra's eyes flew open, and her surroundings transformed. The clerics and guards lay crumpled on the floor, and before her stood the God of Chaos, cradling her newborn daughter in his arms. Her fear momentarily pushed aside, she pushed herself up to a sitting position on the bed, her eyes filled with defiance.

"What gives you the audacity to set foot in my kingdom?" she demanded, her voice steady.

The God of Chaos glanced down at the sleeping child in his arms. "I thought congratulations were in order, Your Majesty," he replied, an unsettling calmness in his tone.

Alessandra steadied her breathing, her voice tinged with accusation. "Congratulations? And yet, you have seen fit to launch an attack on my palace?" Still focused on the baby, the God of Chaos hesitated as she stirred in his arms. Though his intention had been to end this child's life, a mysterious force held him back.

Alessandra scoffed. "If you don't mind, I believe she is hungry." She reached out, determined to reclaim her daughter.

The God of Chaos looked up, his eyes meeting hers. "I do mind. Your husband is blinded by corruption. He knows naught of who I truly am."

"You are a being of lies and hatred," Alessandra retorted, her voice filled with conviction. "You seek to annihilate us all. We will not allow it."

As Alessandra took the baby and cradled her precious daughter in her arms, she was startled by the thunderous roar of her husband, his voice resonating with rage. The God of Chaos had vanished, leaving the queen and her child alone, but not for long. 

Marcus materialized beside them, his eyes filled with concern as he inspected them both. At that moment, Mace entered the chamber, his presence adding to the gravity of the situation.

Turning to Mace with unwavering determination, Marcus commanded, "Summon the council swiftly. I shall call upon the Gods. Tonight, the ritual must be performed. And as soon as my daughter can stand on her own two feet, her training shall commence. She alone possesses the power to cast the God of Chaos into the depths of despair, liberating our world from its shrouded darkness."

****

"Alethia! Where in the Nine Hells has that child vanished to?" Marcus stormed through the halls, his presence causing attendants and magistrates to scatter like frightened mice.

Perched on a tree outside, Alethia sat with her long red curls tied back, her eyes fixed on the sky as she deftly tossed a dagger into the air. 

Cordelia, her ever-loyal friend, appeared beneath her. "Your father is seething with anger, unable to locate you. You've become quite adept at shielding your energy from him."

Looking down with a mischievous smile, Alethia leaped down from the tree to stand beside Cordelia. "I despise this. Why must I endure this wretched party?" 

Cordelia smirked and playfully nudged Alethia towards the palace. "Because, my dear, it is held in your honour. You have come of age and are now eligible to select a suitor."

Rolling her eyes, Alethia retorted, "As if any eligible suitor would willingly marry an elven princess who can snap their spine without breaking a sweat. No one will desire me, especially when they know I am destined to vanquish the God of Chaos."

Cordelia pushed Alethia forward, urging her towards the palace. "You are an elven princess, daughter of the God of War. Who wouldn't want to marry you?"

Alethia removed the ribbon from her hair, allowing her friend to guide her through the halls towards her room. "This is preposterous. I detest these gatherings and loathe dressing up."

"You are a princess, Alethia. One day, you will ascend the throne. You must grow accustomed to such affairs," Cordelia lectured, her laughter ringing softly.

 "If I manage to survive long enough, you mean."

"Stop speaking in such a manner. You are destined to destroy him, not the other way around."

Cordelia shook her head, leading Alethia toward her room. "The prophecy has foretold your victory. Cease worrying and savour this night, for it is all about you."

Hours later, Alethia made her way to the thrones adorned in the grand ballroom. All eyes were fixed upon her, her hair braided elegantly and her dress, chosen by her mother, a regal purple that accentuated her figure. Her emerald eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she curtsied before her parents, who sat upon the thrones.

Marcus extended his hand towards Alessandra, who gracefully accepted it. "Today, we have gathered to witness our daughter, Alethia, blossoming into womanhood," he announced. Turning his attention to Alethia, he continued, "My dear child, you have grown into a formidable and beautiful woman. One day, you shall make us all proud by obliterating the God of Chaos, putting an end to his tyrannical reign and restoring peace to our realms."

As Alessandra approached with the tiara, ready to place it upon Alethia's head, murmurs spread throughout the crowd, soon silenced as guests made way for an unexpected visitor walking down the centre of the room.

"Oh, is this the so-called great destroyer?" the intruder sneered.

Alethia turned, her father swiftly rising and positioning himself between her and the intruder. "Father, what is happening?"

"You are not welcome here, Kakaron!"

Peeking over her father's shoulder, Alethia met the eyes of the approaching man, her breath catching in her throat. This was the one she was destined to vanquish? Before she could speak, someone's fingers curled around her wrist, dragging her towards the door behind the thrones.

 "Alethia, we must depart at once. He must not come near you. You are not yet prepared."

Jerking her wrist free, Alethia attempted to catch another glimpse. "Zepher, release me! I simply wish to observe."

"Are you mad? He will slay you. You are not yet strong enough," Zepher argued, pausing to glance back at Alethia.

Rolling her eyes, Alethia pushed past him and strode down the hall towards her room, leaving her father and the guards to deal with the unexpected visitor.

****

Fifty years had passed since the fateful night of Alethia's coming-of-age ceremony. In that time, her father had intensified her training, driven by the relentless war between the Gods and the God of Chaos. Yet, something had shifted within Alethia. While she dedicated herself to her father's teachings during the day, she found herself drawn to secret rendezvous with Kakaron under the cover of night. It began as a simple curiosity, a desire to understand the being she was destined to eliminate.

On the night of the ceremony, Alethia had sensed his energy and stealthily tracked it to a nearby cave. Surprisingly, Kakaron never sought to harm her. Instead, he grumbled and tried to persuade her to leave. In his presence, she noticed an unexpected lack of malice. Despite the passing of five decades and her relentless training, Alethia knew deep down that she could never fulfil the prophecy. For she had fallen in love with the very being she was supposed to vanquish.

Now, seated beside the tranquil pond in their secret garden, she pondered the worsening war that had brought suffering upon countless innocents due to the other gods' hatred for her beloved. Standing up and running her fingers through her hair, Alethia wondered if Kakaron would ever arrive. He was rarely late, even amidst the chaos of war. Just as she was about to depart and return to the palace, she felt his energy and his arms encircle her waist. 

"And where do you think you're going, my little star?" he whispered into her ear.

Leaning back against him, she closed her eyes, finding solace in his presence. "I need to return," she admitted softly. "I'm supposed to be attending one of my father's meetings."

"Another gathering to discuss how you will bring about my demise?" Kakaron remarked with a touch of bitterness.

Pulling away from his embrace and turning to face him, Alethia let out a weary sigh. "About that," she began, her voice filled with both uncertainty and determination.

****

Marcus had received a letter from the malevolent Kakaron himself, relishing in the prospect of turning his own daughter against him. The wicked scheme entailed ensnaring Alethia within his clutches, only to execute her before Marcus's very eyes. Determined to protect his beloved daughter, Marcus had locked Alethia away in her chamber.

Under the cover of night, Alethia's grandfather materialized at the foot of her bed, his presence both unexpected and unsettling. "Alethia, my child, we must have a profound discussion," he declared.

Wiping away the tears that continued to cascade down her cheeks, Alethia sat up defiantly. "I refuse to listen to anything you have to say. All of you have betrayed me!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and sorrow.

Perching himself upon the edge of her bed, her grandfather spoke with a sagacity that belied his age. "The prophecy, inscribed within ancient texts, foretells that it shall take ten or eleven lifetimes for you to vanquish the God of Chaos. To safeguard this destiny, the elders have crafted a mystical veil, segregating the realms. You, my dear, will be separated as well, existing as your true self here, but assuming a human form in the other realm. It is through living out these alternate lives that you shall fulfil the prophecy, for here, in this realm, death cannot claim you. One day, you shall awaken to your true purpose and obliterate Kakaron, succeeding your father as the Goddess of War."

A surge of fury coursed through Alethia's veins as she sat upright in her bed. "I care not for this prophecy! I do not wish to destroy Kakaron, and I have no desire to become the Goddess of War. All I yearn for is to be with the man I love. Is that too much for all of you to comprehend? I simply wish to find happiness!"

Tenderly reaching out, her grandfather gently squeezed her knee. "Fear not, my dear, for happiness shall indeed be yours with Zepher. He shall ascend to the throne as king, and you, my precious Alethia, shall reign as his queen. Once you realize the true depths of your feelings for Zepher, this fleeting young love shall fade into oblivion. Kakaron deceived you, he told your father his vile intentions to turn you against him."

A knock resounded at the door, interrupting their conversation. Before Alethia could respond, Mace, a loyal ally, entered the room. "Harold, it is time. We must enact the spell while the veil remains thin. Alethia, my child, please lie down. This process will not cause harm, and you will not retain any recollection."

Before she could voice her objections, her grandfather and Mace firmly guided her back onto the bed. Mace placed his fingertips upon her brow, striving to combat the overwhelming fatigue that washed over her. "Do not resist, Alethia. You will not retain a single memory."

As darkness encroached upon her consciousness, Alethia succumbed to the enchantment, her mind blanketed in a shroud of oblivion.